Discovered My Daughter’s Diary Where She Wrote About Hating Me
**Found My Daughters Diary Where She Wrote About Hating Me**
*No, just look at her! Back at last! And what on earth is that in your nose, if you dont mind me asking?*
Emily stood in the hallway, arms crossed. Her voice, usually warm, now rang with outrage. Katie, her sixteen-year-old daughter, slowly tugged off her trainers, avoiding eye contact. A tiny stud with a fake diamond glinted mockingly from the wing of her nose.
*Its a nose piercing, Mum. Everyone has them.*
*Everyone? Whos everyone? That new friend of yoursOlivia, with the ten earrings? Thats your everyone? I told you not to hang around with her!*
*Olivias fine! You dont even know her!* Katie finally looked up, angry tears prickling in her eyes. *And I didnt ask permission. Its my body.*
*Your body?!* Emily took a step forward. *As long as you live under my roof, on my money, that body is my business! Do you have any idea what happens if it gets infected? Ever heard of tetanus? Where did you even get this donesome dingy basement with a dirty needle?*
*At a proper piercing studio! Its sterile! Why do you always jump to the worst?!*
*I jump to the worst? I waited up past midnight, you ignored your phone! I was ringing hospitals, morgues! And all this time, you were getting beautified! Take that rubbish out now!*
*No!* Katie straightened up, almost matching her mothers height. *Its my life, and Ill decide how I look! You just hate everything I likemy music, my friends, my clothes!*
*Because its all leading nowhere!* Emilys voice cracked into a shout. *You should be studying, aiming for uni, not ruining yourself and gallivanting God knows where!*
Katie shoved past her toward her bedroom.
*I hate you!* she spat over her shoulder before slamming the door so hard the china in the display cabinet rattled.
Emily stood frozen in the silent hallway. The word *hate* echoed in her ears. She leaned against the wall, legs wobbling, heart pounding in her throat. Why? Why was it like this? She did everything for her. Worked two jobs so Katie could have the bestdesigner clothes, tutors, summer trips to Spain. Shed given up her own life after her husband left, pouring everything into her daughter. And this was her thanks. *Hate.*
She stumbled to the kitchen, mechanically filling the kettle. Her hands shook. Memories flashedKatie as a little girl with giant hair bows, trustingly holding out her hands; Katie in her first school uniform, proudly clutching a bouquet of carnations; Katie hugging her and whispering, *Mummy, youre the best.* Where had that girl gone? When had her sweet, loving child turned into this spiky, furious hedgehog?
The bedroom door stayed shut. No sounds came from inside. Emily knew talking now was pointless. Any peace offering would be met with hostility. She had to wait. She always had to wait out the storm.
The next day was Saturday. Emily woke early as usual. Made breakfast. Katie didnt emerge. Emily knocked.
*Katie, come eat. Itll get cold.*
Silence.
*Katie, can you hear me?*
*Not hungry,* came the muffled reply.
Emily sighed. Ate alone. Washed up. The flats silence felt thick, cloying, like treacle. Saturdays were their daycleaning together, shopping, watching films. Now the place felt alien and cold.
She decided to clean. It always helped order her thoughts. Dusted the lounge, mopped the kitchen. Only Katies room left. Normally, her daughter tidied it herself. But today Today Emily needed an excuse to go in, to break the icy standoff.
She knocked again.
*Katie, Im mopping. Open up.*
The door grudgingly creaked ajar. Katie stood by the window, back turned, headphones on. Emily entered with a bucket and cloth. The room was its usual teenage chaosclothes strewn, books piled, sketchpads open. She started mopping quietly. Katie didnt turn.
Then Emily spotted something under the bed. A pink notebook with a tiny padlock. A diary. She remembered buying it for Katies last birthday. Her daughter had laughed. *Mum, who even writes diaries anymore? Thats so lame.* Apparently, someone did.
Her heart skipped. *No. Thats wrong. An invasion.* But yesterdays *hate* burned inside her. She had to understand.
She finished quickly.
*Done,* she murmured.
Katie gave a curt nod. Emily left, shutting the door softly. The diary haunted her all day. What was in it? Boys? Friends? School drama? Or her?
That evening, Katie muttered she was going out with Olivia. Emily waited ten minutes, then crept back into her room. Hands trembling, she felt like a thief. The flimsy lock yielded to a paperclip. She sat on the bed and opened it.
Neat, childish handwriting. School stuff, a maths test, some band Emily had never heard of. Page after page, shame growing. She was violating her own child.
Then she found last weeks entry.
*”Aunt Lisa came over today. Again with the Oh, Em, youre a saint raising her alone! And Katies so clever, such a good girl, your pride and joy! I just sat there smiling like an idiot. Inside, I was boiling. Mums pride. Mums project. Do I even get to be my own person? Or just fulfil her expectationsgood grades, the right uni, the perfect little doll she can show off?”*
Emilys fingers went numb. Shed never thought that. She was just proud. Was that wrong?
Next page, a month back.
*”Mum screamed at me for being late. Then cried about being alone, how Im all she has. Classic guilt trip. Now I cant even be angryjust guilty. Like I owe her for being born. Like I should sacrifice my life for her peace of mind.”*
A lump rose in her throat. Was that how Katie saw her care? As manipulation? But she *was* scaredthe world was dangerous.
Every line was a punch. Offhand remarks shed forgotten were recorded, dissected. Her advice came across as criticism. Her love, as control.
*”She doesnt get me. Asked what music I like. I played her a track. She made a faceThats not music, its noise. Walked off. I just wanted her to try to understand. But she only wants me to be good. To not rock the boat.”*
Then, the worst. Last nights entry, jagged, furious handwriting.
*”I hate her. Hate her! She wont let me breathe. Controls everythingfriends, clothes, thoughts. This piercing it was a big deal for me. And she justTake that junk out. Didnt even ask why. Because it doesnt fit her perfect world. Im suffocating. I want to run away. Anywhere. Just to escape her judging face. I hate her love. Hate her care. HATE HER!”*
Emily shut the diary. Her whole body shook. These vile wordsher *Katie* wrote them?
Her world crumbled. Every sacrifice, every ounce of loveall reduced to *hate.* She wasnt a mother. She was a captor.
She slid the diary back. Staggered to the sofa. Sat clutching her head. Tears fell unnoticed.
Katie came home later. Saw her. *Mum? Whats wrong?*
Emily looked up. Saw the nose stud, the skull-print hoodie, the crossed armsand a stranger. *Nothing. Just a headache.*
*Take a paracetamol,* Katie said tonelessly, vanishing into her room.
Emily didnt sleep. Reread every diary line in her mind. Realised, horribly, Katie was right. She *had* criticised her friends, mocked her music, weaponised tears. Shed thought it was love. It was suffocation.
Next morning, she called her best friend, Sarah.
*Sal, I I dont know how to go on.* She spilled everything. The fight, the diary, the *hate.*
Sarah sighed. *Em, love you *have* been smothering her. Remember moaning about Olivia? Whats so bad about her? So she dresses edgyshes sixteen, not forty! We dyed our hair green at that age, sneaked out to see The Clash. Our mums had the same meltdowns.*
*But this is different*
*Its *exactly* the same. We forget. We want our kids to skip our mistakes. But they *need* to make their own. She doesnt hate *you.* She hates the leash. She loves youI know it. But she needs you to see *her.* A person. Not your perfect daughter.*
*What do I do? Tell her I read it?*
*God, no! Thats unforgivable. But now you know what hurts her. Change. Slowly. Give her space. Show interestnot as Mum The Boss, but as a friend.*
*I cant.*
*You can. You love her. That loves just too heavy. Lighten it.*
All day, Emily stewed. *Lighten it.* How? Let go? But what if she messed up?
That evening, Katie emerged, ready to go out. Emily forced a smile.
*Katie, wait.*
Her daughter braced for a lecture.
*Out with Olivia?*
*Yeah.*
*Whats the plan? Cinema?*
*Just café. Maybe hers after. Listen to music.*
Emily nodded. Deep breath.
*About your piercing* Katie tensed. *Its different. But if you like it Guess its trendy. Just keep it clean, alright? Use antiseptic.*
Katie blinked. Expected shouting. Got this.
*Okay.*
*And dont be too late. I worry.*
No *Youre all I have.* Just *I worry.*
Katie nodded silently and left.
It was agony. Every instinct screamed *Stop her!* But Emily remembered the diary.
The next weeks were the hardest of her life. She bit back lectures. Asked, didnt demand. Once, she walked in as Katie listened to music. Normally, shed grimace and leave. This time, she paused.
*Loud?* Katie removed one earbud.
*No. What are you listening to?*
Katie eyed her suspiciously but handed over the earbud. Harsh, chaotic sounds blastedsome punk band. Emily made herself listen.
*Interesting. Whats it about?*
Katie, stunned, explained the lyricsanti-establishment stuff. Emily nodded (understanding little) but watched her daughters eyes warm, the defensiveness fade. For once, they talked about *her* passions.
Small steps. Once, Emily spotted sketches on Katies desk. Before, shed have snapped *Focus on your A-levels!* Now, she stopped. They were costume designswild, creative.
*Youre so talented. These are gorgeous.*
*Thanks,* Katie mumbled, flushing.
It wasnt instant harmony. There were fights. But the air cleared. Emily learned to see a *person,* not her project. Katie, feeling the grip loosen, softened.
One evening, they sat quietly drinking tea. Not the old, oppressive silencejust calm.
*Mum? Remember asking about uni?*
Emilys heart stuttered. Was this *Im dropping out?*
*Theres this fashion design college. For costume design. I I want to try.*
A year ago, Emily wouldve erupted. *Design? Proper degrees only!* But now she saw Katies hopeful faceand remembered *Mums project.*
*That sounds brilliant. Whats needed? Portfolio?*
*Yeah, sketches. And English lit.*
*Your lit marks are stellar. Lets pick your best work, present it properly.*
Katie gaped.
*You youre okay with this?*
Emily exhaled.
*Darling, I was wrong. I wanted best by *my* rules. But your happiness matters most. If this is itgo for it.*
Katies eyes shone. Hesitantly, she hugged her. First time in years.
*Thanks, Mum.*
Emily held her, breathing in her shampoo. That pink diaryit had shattered her, but saved them. Forced her to wake up. To love *Katie,* not some perfect daughter.
And thatfinallywas enough.