Being me, of course, I ended up deconstructing my relationship with my mother.

She was an only child, the apple of her father's eye, but her mother was cold, manipulative and a snob. She was taught early that everything she did reflected on her mother, so she must be perfect. She also learned that it was the place of a wife to rule the household. She had her mothers' ideals and her father's quick temper.

But, she could never rule my father, who is a soft-spoken but determined man. Nevertheless, my brother and I had to be perfect. Back then, smacking was still very much allowed, and it was my mothers' first and only resort when displeased. She was displeased as often as one migth expect from a spoilt child with a hot temper who'd run head-first into the real world

And I was a little shit. I was smarter than her from the get-go. I had a ready and sharp tongue and was highly-resistant to authority. I gave no respect where I didn't think it had been earned and had no use for arbitrary rules. We were at war from Day One, and the worst of it was we understood each other too damn well! As might be predicted, I was out of there as soon as I possibly could. It was only after I had established myself that we could have a civilised relationship.

After that there was no need to talk about it. I knew what had happened and why, and it was something she'd never understand becuase she was convinced that our upbringing had been disciplined, not abusive.

My brother responded by being Practically Perfect in Every Way, and brown-nosing his way up the ladder both at school and work. The family is now socially inconvenient to him, so we no longer exist for him.

Me? I watch over my grown-up kids and their kids like an ageing and slightly cranky hawk! They can do what the Hell they like, I'll always be there for them, bunch of reprobates that they are!