I hate my daughter

I already wrote mine onceconfession on another site, they almost cursed me there. A couple of years have passed, but nothing has changed. My soul has not become lighter and I want to speak out and repent again. Although no, I don’t want to repent.

I hate my child. I,mother , I don’t love my child at all. While she was a baby, I took care of her and it seemed to me that I sincerely loved her. After all, how could it be otherwise - I’m a mother.

But gradually doubts crept in, corroding my soul. And the older I gotdaughter , the less love and more hatred there was. By inertia, I still cared about her, worried. I did it like everyone else.

One day, when my daughter was 3 years old, she and I were almost hit by a car. And I suddenly thought: how calmly and happily I would have lived if I had not managed to move the stroller away from the approaching truck...

I remember when you walked into her bedroom as a little girl, she should have woken up by now, and you listened: what if she’s not breathing? After all, there is sudden infant death syndrome. You listen not with fear, test-antibiotic.com, but with hope.

My daughter is no different from her peers: she’s pretty, studies well, communicates with friends, helps around the house, isn’t rude, and calls back if she’s late somewhere. Friends and relatives praise her, teachers and tutors simply adore her.

The daughter’s love for me, for her mother, is the worst thing: after all, I hate her. And I don’t call her daughter - only by name. I don’t just dislike her touch, I don’t like the way she dresses, how and what she says, how she moves, how she laughs. Everything about her irritates me. I want her to die and disappear from my life.

I don’t tell her this, but indirectly my attitude towards her is clear andthe child feels it perfectly. Pretending does not work and will not work, and I do not strive for this.

I'm serving the responsibility of raising a child like a prison sentence. I feed her, wash her things, take care of her health. And I dream of pushing her into an independent life, away from me. But I understand that my time is also running out, that I will remain an old woman, lonely and useless to anyone.

I don't love her and don't want to love her. All I want is for her not to exist. I live in hell and I don’t have the strength to get out of it. It's not my fault that I don't love my child. Or is it still her fault?