The Psychological Effect of a Controlling Mother (and How I Dealt With It)

My Experience With a Controlling Mother

I’m writing this article from a personal perspective in hopes of helping someone else who might have suffered a similar experience with a controlling mother or parent. If you aren’t sure how to change your situation or even if it can be changed, this article is for you. Know you are NOT alone.

I was raised by a controlling mother who was extremely overbearing. This experience has affected me throughout my life, especially my relationships. But I have since realized that my life is my own. I can’t let the past affect my future.

My childhood and adolescent experiences are examples of how controlling behavior can manifest. I hope by sharing these experiences, other people might realize a pattern in their own life, be able to make changes and take back control of their lives.

The Beginning of a Broken Childhood

I was born in Fort Lauderdale back in 1978. At the time, my parents had been married for nine years, and were on the verge of divorce. My mother had an abortion prior to my birth, and after I was born by cesarean section, my parents officially ended their marriage.

My grandparents (my father’s parents) gave me my first bottle in the hospital after I was born. I lived with them from the very beginning. During the first two weeks of my life, my biological mother came to my grandparents house to spend time with me, but then suddenly disappeared leaving only a letter. The letter was addressed to my grandparents and stated she was leaving me with them forever.

Despite living with my grandparents, my father made an effort to be involved with a few visitations during my first year of life. But he, too, disappeared shortly after I turned one.

My grandparents treated me as their daughter from the beginning and legally adopted me at the age of four.

I remember going to the attorney’s office and being asked about living arrangements. I don’t recall my response, my grandparents (from here on referenced as my parents) told me I said I wanted them to raise me. The most I remember is the seat warmer in the secretary’s chair at her desk and trying to figure out how to turn it on.

I was declared legally abandoned by the courts, and my parents officially adopted me. The birth certificate even has their names on it, not those of my biological parents.

My parents made no effort to hide any of this from me. I knew from a very young age that I was adopted. Granted, I was adopted by immediate family, but adopted nonetheless.

This really made no difference to me. It was not something I thought about regularly. Unlike many adopted children, I never wondered about my biological mother. My parents were the people raising me, not the people who gave birth to me. It was just a fact.

But my mom always thought I was curious and would ask me regularly about it. She even went so far as to ask me why I didn’t want to know about her, and couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t want to know who my biological mother was. To this day, I can’t really explain why I don’t want to know other than it would really make no difference in my life today. Other than wanting to know her medical history, nothing would change by knowing who she is.

Growing Up with a Controlling Mother

But growing up was difficult. I attended private, catholic school all the way through high school. I didn’t have any friends in elementary school, and I was routinely picked on by bullies.

In my heart, I didn’t really care that everyone teased me and called me ugly or fat. But in the back of my mind, it affected me. Despite my outward expression of self-confidence, I was only confident when I was by myself. However that changed as I got older, as it does for most people I suspect.

Ironically, during my years as a young child, my mother wasn’t horribly controlling. However, I was never allowed to have a sleep over (either at my house or theirs). I only had one birthday party that I can remember, and only one person showed up, which is why I remember it.

But as I got older, my mother’s controlling behavior escalated.

During high school, I had a couple of friends who were in the band, which was the only time I was really allowed to “socialize.” One of them was a witch, and his best friend became my best friend.

She was amazing. She laughed at all my jokes; she even helped me stand up against the bullies. My mom told me to simply ignore them because they were just jealous. Although she was probably right, there was no other comforting offered. Just a lot of physical hugs and kisses (on the mouth), which I had come to despise.

In my junior year, a new student started at our school. Although it sounds cliché, he was probably THE best-looking guy in the school, and he became MY boyfriend. Strangely, no one really picked on me after that.