Daddy or mommy issues: how do I deal with them?

I'm 24, and my Dad has been an alcoholic for as long as I can remember. He’s drinking several times a week—it's just how it is. Luckily, I haven't lived with my parents for a few years now; I’ve got my own job and some peace and quiet. Still, I can't shake the feeling that I'm carrying around baggage caused by them—I'll try to explain it as best I can.

So, my Dad’s been an alcoholic for basically three decades now. Growing up with him was a nightmare—he was drinking every other day, and whenever he hit that stage, he’d come home and just tear the whole family apart emotionally. He wouldn't stop until he finally passed out surrounded by empty beer cans. He’d blast music so loud you couldn't even focus on homework, let alone study. If anyone dared to say anything about it, his only response was to tell us to either get used to it or shut up. On the days he actually managed to stay sober, he’d mostly just sit there in silence—usually because he’d spent the entire previous day fighting with Mom. Sometimes, even without any real reason, he’d pull this silent treatment routine for days just to keep everyone on edge—you never knew when you could actually relax. If we asked what was wrong, he’d just give us a hollow "Nothing" and leave it at that. And if you pushed him too far by asking why he was in such a bad mood? He’d pick a fight on purpose just so he had an excuse to head down to the local pub. Then he’d just stumble back home later that night, drunk as ever, to start the whole cycle all over again.

His mood swings were constant—and I mean constant. He’d flip from happy to miserable five times in a single day. One minute he’d be watching Ludwig on TV, acting like a perfectly normal guy—laughing, joking around with the whole family. But then, the second everyone else finally relaxed, his mood would just snap. He’d scowl out of nowhere, just because the rest of us were being too casual. It wasn't allowed. That was my life, basically.

On the other hand, my mom spent her entire life trying to shield us from the fallout—doing everything she could to make sure we didn't feel the full weight of Dad's drinking. But I don't know how else to put it, I just get this feeling that she was constantly painting herself as a martyr, which ended up making us feel guilty about his addiction. She’s a devout Catholic, too. Every time he’d get wasted, she’d spend at least an hour there on her knees, praying. Just begging God to take the suffering away—though, obviously, nothing ever changed. After realizing her prayers weren't being answered, she’d eventually just sigh and say, "Well, I guess this is just my lot in life; everyone carries their own cross, and I have to carry mine." Basically, she views it as her penance—like she's practically guaranteed a VIP pass to heaven because of it.

During my last couple of years of high school, I was the only kid left at home with my parents. That meant all those venting sessions and endless complaints my mom used to save for my sisters were suddenly dumped right on me. Dad was still drinking, Mom was still kneeling there praying to God—it was just the same old cycle, and I had a front-row seat. Looking back, I didn't see it then, but she basically groomed me to be her emotional anchor. I became the one listening to her rants about Dad, absorbing all that domestic drama. Eventually, I started stepping up to fill the gaps—doing the dishes, cleaning the house, helping with everything she needed. If she needed a ride anywhere, I was the driver. We’d spend entire afternoons running errands together, just wandering through Target or the grocery store. If I ever dared to push back or complain, she’d break down in tears, telling me she had absolutely no one left in this world to lean on. It stayed that way for a few years after graduation, too, until I finally landed a job in another city. I still remember the look on her face when I was packing up to leave—she looked like her heart was actually shattering. I left, of course, even if it felt a little heavy to walk away.

So, here I am. I’m 24, and honestly, I haven't been in a relationship since high school—which, looking back, was right before I moved back in with my parents. Lately, I’ve realized I have this massive anxiety whenever I try to approach a woman. It’s weird, because I didn't used to be like this. Now, I can't help but feel like women are somehow superior—like they deserve this level of constant reverence and being put on a pedestal. It actually gets uncomfortable for me when guys start talking about women, sex, or anything like that in a group setting. If someone makes a joke at their expense, I genuinely feel insulted. I only recently started connecting the dots on why I'm like this—it looks like my mother is the root cause of all of it. How do I actually fix this?

Look, given how your parents are—and let's be honest, they can be a lot—it’s actually a massive win that you managed to land a job and move out. You should definitely talk to them if you feel like it, but the second you see them starting to overstep those boundaries, just pull back. Maintain that distance, man; it’s the only way you’re going to stay sane.

Regarding what you mentioned earlier, you really need to wrap your head around the fact that women are just people, just like you. They have their own ambitions, their own messy lives, and their own struggles to navigate, and frankly, they deserve respect and kindness just as much as any guy does. I get that it can be totally overwhelming when you feel that intense physical attraction—it's like a total system overload—but don't go putting them on some pedestal. Seriously, don't. If you treat them like goddesses instead of humans, you aren't going to build anything real or healthy.

Maybe the smartest move would be to just focus on building some solid friendships first? Just hang out, get comfortable being around women without all that pressure, and once you've loosened up a bit, then you can think about jumping into the romantic stuff.

Kate Foster4 said:I'm 24, and my Dad has been an alcoholic for as long as I can remember. He’s drinking several times a week—it's just how it is. Luckily, I haven't lived with my parents for a few years now; I’ve got my own job and some peace and quiet. Still, I can't shake the feeling that I'm carrying around baggage caused by them—I'll try to explain it as best I can.

So, my Dad’s been an alcoholic for basically three decades now. Growing up with him was a nightmare—he was drinking every other day, and whenever he hit that stage, he’d come home and just tear the whole family apart emotionally. He wouldn't stop until he finally passed out surrounded by empty beer cans. He’d blast music so loud you couldn't even focus on homework, let alone study. If anyone dared to say anything about it, his only response was to tell us to either get used to it or shut up. On the days he actually managed to stay sober, he’d mostly just sit there in silence—usually because he’d spent the entire previous day fighting with Mom. Sometimes, even without any real reason, he’d pull this silent treatment routine for days just to keep everyone on edge—you never knew when you could actually relax. If we asked what was wrong, he’d just give us a hollow "Nothing" and leave it at that. And if you pushed him too far by asking why he was in such a bad mood? He’d pick a fight on purpose just so he had an excuse to head down to the local pub. Then he’d just stumble back home later that night, drunk as ever, to start the whole cycle all over again.

His mood swings were constant—and I mean constant. He’d flip from happy to miserable five times in a single day. One minute he’d be watching Ludwig on TV, acting like a perfectly normal guy—laughing, joking around with the whole family. But then, the second everyone else finally relaxed, his mood would just snap. He’d scowl out of nowhere, just because the rest of us were being too casual. It wasn't allowed. That was my life, basically.

On the other hand, my mom spent her entire life trying to shield us from the fallout—doing everything she could to make sure we didn't feel the full weight of Dad's drinking. But I don't know how else to put it, I just get this feeling that she was constantly painting herself as a martyr, which ended up making us feel guilty about his addiction. She’s a devout Catholic, too. Every time he’d get wasted, she’d spend at least an hour there on her knees, praying. Just begging God to take the suffering away—though, obviously, nothing ever changed. After realizing her prayers weren't being answered, she’d eventually just sigh and say, "Well, I guess this is just my lot in life; everyone carries their own cross, and I have to carry mine." Basically, she views it as her penance—like she's practically guaranteed a VIP pass to heaven because of it.

During my last couple of years of high school, I was the only kid left at home with my parents. That meant all those venting sessions and endless complaints my mom used to save for my sisters were suddenly dumped right on me. Dad was still drinking, Mom was still kneeling there praying to God—it was just the same old cycle, and I had a front-row seat. Looking back, I didn't see it then, but she basically groomed me to be her emotional anchor. I became the one listening to her rants about Dad, absorbing all that domestic drama. Eventually, I started stepping up to fill the gaps—doing the dishes, cleaning the house, helping with everything she needed. If she needed a ride anywhere, I was the driver. We’d spend entire afternoons running errands together, just wandering through Target or the grocery store. If I ever dared to push back or complain, she’d break down in tears, telling me she had absolutely no one left in this world to lean on. It stayed that way for a few years after graduation, too, until I finally landed a job in another city. I still remember the look on her face when I was packing up to leave—she looked like her heart was actually shattering. I left, of course, even if it felt a little heavy to walk away.

So, here I am. I’m 24, and honestly, I haven't been in a relationship since high school—which, looking back, was right before I moved back in with my parents. Lately, I’ve realized I have this massive anxiety whenever I try to approach a woman. It’s weird, because I didn't used to be like this. Now, I can't help but feel like women are somehow superior—like they deserve this level of constant reverence and being put on a pedestal. It actually gets uncomfortable for me when guys start talking about women, sex, or anything like that in a group setting. If someone makes a joke at their expense, I genuinely feel insulted. I only recently started connecting the dots on why I'm like this—it looks like my mother is the root cause of all of it. How do I actually fix this?

You have to realize that women who stay with spouses like that, and
who basically serve up that kind of nonsense to their kids by staying, are actually being STUPID (not being pious or good)
or they have some sort of calculated reason—some small daily advantage where it’s easier to just let things stay the way they are (even if it hurts the kids) rather than changing anything.

Once you see that your mom isn't actually a saint, and that she didn't use her "kindness" to guilt-trip you into feeling like you always have to be perfect, you'll start seeing the world differently.

It wouldn't be great if you swung too far the other way and started enjoying putting women down, but a little shift in how you view them might do you some good.
Women aren't angels just because they're women. They can be just as messy as guys.

Nicholas Gonzalez8 said:Look, given how your parents are—and let's be honest, they can be a lot—it’s actually a massive win that you managed to land a job and move out. You should definitely talk to them if you feel like it, but the second you see them starting to overstep those boundaries, just pull back. Maintain that distance, man; it’s the only way you’re going to stay sane.

Regarding what you mentioned earlier, you really need to wrap your head around the fact that women are just people, just like you. They have their own ambitions, their own messy lives, and their own struggles to navigate, and frankly, they deserve respect and kindness just as much as any guy does. I get that it can be totally overwhelming when you feel that intense physical attraction—it's like a total system overload—but don't go putting them on some pedestal. Seriously, don't. If you treat them like goddesses instead of humans, you aren't going to build anything real or healthy.

Maybe the smartest move would be to just focus on building some solid friendships first? Just hang out, get comfortable being around women without all that pressure, and once you've loosened up a bit, then you can think about jumping into the romantic stuff.

I can talk to women—that’s not the issue. The issue is they shut me out pretty fast because they end up seeing me as nothing more than a brother or a "good friend."

Maybe I misstated my perspective on women in my first post. I'm not looking to become the opposite of who I am—I just want to break through this mental block that keeps me from seeing women as regular human beings instead of these "divine" creatures I currently view them as.

Part of the problem might be that I grew up without a real Dad around—you know, a stable father figure. Sometimes I catch myself daydreaming, imagining I had a normal Dad—someone who didn't drink constantly and wasn't mentally unstable. A Dad I could actually rely on for advice, someone who would've been a true friend. I'll let myself drift into that headspace, and once I do, my view of women feels completely normal again. Like, if I imagine I'm already with a girl I recently met, my confidence shoots up automatically—suddenly, there's no problem at all.

Kate Foster4 said:I can talk to women—that’s not the issue. The issue is they shut me out pretty fast because they end up seeing me as nothing more than a brother or a "good friend."

Maybe I misstated my perspective on women in my first post. I'm not looking to become the opposite of who I am—I just want to break through this mental block that keeps me from seeing women as regular human beings instead of these "divine" creatures I currently view them as.

Part of the problem might be that I grew up without a real Dad around—you know, a stable father figure. Sometimes I catch myself daydreaming, imagining I had a normal Dad—someone who didn't drink constantly and wasn't mentally unstable. A Dad I could actually rely on for advice, someone who would've been a true friend. I'll let myself drift into that headspace, and once I do, my view of women feels completely normal again. Like, if I imagine I'm already with a girl I recently met, my confidence shoots up automatically—suddenly, there's no problem at all.

Kate Foster4 said:I'm 24, and my Dad has been an alcoholic for as long as I can remember. He’s drinking several times a week—it's just how it is. Luckily, I haven't lived with my parents for a few years now; I’ve got my own job and some peace and quiet. Still, I can't shake the feeling that I'm carrying around baggage caused by them—I'll try to explain it as best I can.

So, my Dad’s been an alcoholic for basically three decades now. Growing up with him was a nightmare—he was drinking every other day, and whenever he hit that stage, he’d come home and just tear the whole family apart emotionally. He wouldn't stop until he finally passed out surrounded by empty beer cans. He’d blast music so loud you couldn't even focus on homework, let alone study. If anyone dared to say anything about it, his only response was to tell us to either get used to it or shut up. On the days he actually managed to stay sober, he’d mostly just sit there in silence—usually because he’d spent the entire previous day fighting with Mom. Sometimes, even without any real reason, he’d pull this silent treatment routine for days just to keep everyone on edge—you never knew when you could actually relax. If we asked what was wrong, he’d just give us a hollow "Nothing" and leave it at that. And if you pushed him too far by asking why he was in such a bad mood? He’d pick a fight on purpose just so he had an excuse to head down to the local pub. Then he’d just stumble back home later that night, drunk as ever, to start the whole cycle all over again.

His mood swings were constant—and I mean constant. He’d flip from happy to miserable five times in a single day. One minute he’d be watching Ludwig on TV, acting like a perfectly normal guy—laughing, joking around with the whole family. But then, the second everyone else finally relaxed, his mood would just snap. He’d scowl out of nowhere, just because the rest of us were being too casual. It wasn't allowed. That was my life, basically.

On the other hand, my mom spent her entire life trying to shield us from the fallout—doing everything she could to make sure we didn't feel the full weight of Dad's drinking. But I don't know how else to put it, I just get this feeling that she was constantly painting herself as a martyr, which ended up making us feel guilty about his addiction. She’s a devout Catholic, too. Every time he’d get wasted, she’d spend at least an hour there on her knees, praying. Just begging God to take the suffering away—though, obviously, nothing ever changed. After realizing her prayers weren't being answered, she’d eventually just sigh and say, "Well, I guess this is just my lot in life; everyone carries their own cross, and I have to carry mine." Basically, she views it as her penance—like she's practically guaranteed a VIP pass to heaven because of it.

During my last couple of years of high school, I was the only kid left at home with my parents. That meant all those venting sessions and endless complaints my mom used to save for my sisters were suddenly dumped right on me. Dad was still drinking, Mom was still kneeling there praying to God—it was just the same old cycle, and I had a front-row seat. Looking back, I didn't see it then, but she basically groomed me to be her emotional anchor. I became the one listening to her rants about Dad, absorbing all that domestic drama. Eventually, I started stepping up to fill the gaps—doing the dishes, cleaning the house, helping with everything she needed. If she needed a ride anywhere, I was the driver. We’d spend entire afternoons running errands together, just wandering through Target or the grocery store. If I ever dared to push back or complain, she’d break down in tears, telling me she had absolutely no one left in this world to lean on. It stayed that way for a few years after graduation, too, until I finally landed a job in another city. I still remember the look on her face when I was packing up to leave—she looked like her heart was actually shattering. I left, of course, even if it felt a little heavy to walk away.

So, here I am. I’m 24, and honestly, I haven't been in a relationship since high school—which, looking back, was right before I moved back in with my parents. Lately, I’ve realized I have this massive anxiety whenever I try to approach a woman. It’s weird, because I didn't used to be like this. Now, I can't help but feel like women are somehow superior—like they deserve this level of constant reverence and being put on a pedestal. It actually gets uncomfortable for me when guys start talking about women, sex, or anything like that in a group setting. If someone makes a joke at their expense, I genuinely feel insulted. I only recently started connecting the dots on why I'm like this—it looks like my mother is the root cause of all of it. How do I actually fix this?

Do you ever get the feeling girls your own age view you more like a platonic buddy or just one of the girls? It’s almost like your mom turned you into her permanent, ever-available little bestie.

If you grow up without any brothers—just sisters—you’re already halfway there. It sets you up to lean more toward a feminine emotional landscape rather than that typical testosterone-driven way of thinking. Especially if your Dad wasn't exactly a pillar of strength, but more of an emotional wreck who handled his frustrations by clinging to a bottle like a baby with a pacifier.

Maybe that’s just who you are.
It’s not out of the question that a similar scenario could play out in some hypothetical situation. Say you have a girl who grew up with nothing but brothers. She’s always gambling on the games with her old man, lives in denim and jerseys, and spends her weekends hitting up football games with her brothers, cheering them on over a few beers.
Most guys would probably just see her as a sister or one of the bros, rather than someone they’d actually find interesting or attractive.
It’s probably unwise to underestimate how much we naturally pick up on the habits of the people around us. We tend to mirror our environment—and the people we spend the most time with—without even realizing we're doing it.

Maybe try cutting back on the drinks and hanging out with guys more often?
It’s a weird thing you see with certain moms' sons—the ones who don't really hang out with guys much. Sometimes they get so close to their mothers that they start mirroring her constantly. They pick up her mannerisms, her facial expressions, even her little gestures. It’s like they’re becoming a carbon copy. And honestly? It’s a total turn-off for women. It makes them look pretty unattractive to the very people they should be trying to impress.

Kate Foster4 said:I can talk to women—that’s not the issue. The issue is they shut me out pretty fast because they end up seeing me as nothing more than a brother or a "good friend."

Maybe I misstated my perspective on women in my first post. I'm not looking to become the opposite of who I am—I just want to break through this mental block that keeps me from seeing women as regular human beings instead of these "divine" creatures I currently view them as.

Part of the problem might be that I grew up without a real Dad around—you know, a stable father figure. Sometimes I catch myself daydreaming, imagining I had a normal Dad—someone who didn't drink constantly and wasn't mentally unstable. A Dad I could actually rely on for advice, someone who would've been a true friend. I'll let myself drift into that headspace, and once I do, my view of women feels completely normal again. Like, if I imagine I'm already with a girl I recently met, my confidence shoots up automatically—suddenly, there's no problem at all.

Maybe you view women as divine beings, which is why your mother developed such an intense level of guilt-tripping—something perhaps only God could pull off religiously?
I bet you felt like some kind of monster just for wanting a little downtime or thinking you deserved a life outside of her constant needs. 😉

Kate Foster4 said:I can talk to women—that’s not the issue. The issue is they shut me out pretty fast because they end up seeing me as nothing more than a brother or a "good friend."

Maybe I misstated my perspective on women in my first post. I'm not looking to become the opposite of who I am—I just want to break through this mental block that keeps me from seeing women as regular human beings instead of these "divine" creatures I currently view them as.

Part of the problem might be that I grew up without a real Dad around—you know, a stable father figure. Sometimes I catch myself daydreaming, imagining I had a normal Dad—someone who didn't drink constantly and wasn't mentally unstable. A Dad I could actually rely on for advice, someone who would've been a true friend. I'll let myself drift into that headspace, and once I do, my view of women feels completely normal again. Like, if I imagine I'm already with a girl I recently met, my confidence shoots up automatically—suddenly, there's no problem at all.

Women definitely aren't divine beings, and neither are men.
Most people are actually quite the opposite, with maybe a tiny percentage whose character traits lean toward something remotely "divine."

Kate Foster4 said:I can talk to women—that’s not the issue. The issue is they shut me out pretty fast because they end up seeing me as nothing more than a brother or a "good friend."

Maybe I misstated my perspective on women in my first post. I'm not looking to become the opposite of who I am—I just want to break through this mental block that keeps me from seeing women as regular human beings instead of these "divine" creatures I currently view them as.

Part of the problem might be that I grew up without a real Dad around—you know, a stable father figure. Sometimes I catch myself daydreaming, imagining I had a normal Dad—someone who didn't drink constantly and wasn't mentally unstable. A Dad I could actually rely on for advice, someone who would've been a true friend. I'll let myself drift into that headspace, and once I do, my view of women feels completely normal again. Like, if I imagine I'm already with a girl I recently met, my confidence shoots up automatically—suddenly, there's no problem at all.

Well, you've gotta beat them to the punch there. You need to throw out a compliment so she actually realizes you're interested, give her a real hug when you see her, maybe bring over some Ghirardelli chocolates or something... little things, right? But those small gestures make it crystal clear how you view her and what you're looking for. If you play it that way, there's a chance she might start looking at you through that same lens.

Try to look at the bigger picture here; there are far too many families out there that have been completely torn apart by alcoholism. Don't dwell on it too much or let your future be shaped by those old memories. Instead, just view it as a vital lesson learned—one where you make a promise to yourself never to turn to drinking as an escape when things get tough.

The fact that you’re so close to your mother isn't necessarily a bad thing, especially since you've lived under the same roof all this time. It's naturally difficult to detach from someone who has been your primary support system through every single struggle you've faced. You just need to keep your eyes on the prize and focus on building the life you want; I'm certain you have big goals in mind! Your mother is undoubtedly going through a hard time because she can't rely on your father anymore, nor can she find much joy in the house, especially since you've been her sole source of light lately. The most important thing is to help her realize it's time to break free from those chains. While your father is sober, that might be the best window to sit him down and show him that it's time to quit the booze for good; there are plenty of ways to guide people back toward a healthy, stable life.

As for the whole situation with girls, I really don't think you should worry about it too much.🙂
You have to respect women, obviously, but you should do so in your own way without being overly performative about it. Just act natural. Don't overthink every little word you say; just be relaxed, fun, and a bit unpredictable. Focus on leveling up your appearance and your education, and you'll find that women will gravitate toward you naturally. Honestly, you'll likely end up turning them all down until you finally meet "the one"—and believe me, she's out there somewhere, even if I haven't crossed paths with her yet.🙂)

Your dad probably has issues that go way deeper than just being an alcoholic. Swings in mood several times a day—you mentioned five—and forcing everyone else in the house to walk on eggshells or follow his specific rules... that sounds less like simple drinking and more like psychological manipulation or some kind of mental health struggle paired with the booze.

Kate Foster4 said:I'm 24, and my Dad has been an alcoholic for as long as I can remember. He’s drinking several times a week—it's just how it is. Luckily, I haven't lived with my parents for a few years now; I’ve got my own job and some peace and quiet. Still, I can't shake the feeling that I'm carrying around baggage caused by them—I'll try to explain it as best I can.

So, my Dad’s been an alcoholic for basically three decades now. Growing up with him was a nightmare—he was drinking every other day, and whenever he hit that stage, he’d come home and just tear the whole family apart emotionally. He wouldn't stop until he finally passed out surrounded by empty beer cans. He’d blast music so loud you couldn't even focus on homework, let alone study. If anyone dared to say anything about it, his only response was to tell us to either get used to it or shut up. On the days he actually managed to stay sober, he’d mostly just sit there in silence—usually because he’d spent the entire previous day fighting with Mom. Sometimes, even without any real reason, he’d pull this silent treatment routine for days just to keep everyone on edge—you never knew when you could actually relax. If we asked what was wrong, he’d just give us a hollow "Nothing" and leave it at that. And if you pushed him too far by asking why he was in such a bad mood? He’d pick a fight on purpose just so he had an excuse to head down to the local pub. Then he’d just stumble back home later that night, drunk as ever, to start the whole cycle all over again.

His mood swings were constant—and I mean constant. He’d flip from happy to miserable five times in a single day. One minute he’d be watching Ludwig on TV, acting like a perfectly normal guy—laughing, joking around with the whole family. But then, the second everyone else finally relaxed, his mood would just snap. He’d scowl out of nowhere, just because the rest of us were being too casual. It wasn't allowed. That was my life, basically.

On the other hand, my mom spent her entire life trying to shield us from the fallout—doing everything she could to make sure we didn't feel the full weight of Dad's drinking. But I don't know how else to put it, I just get this feeling that she was constantly painting herself as a martyr, which ended up making us feel guilty about his addiction. She’s a devout Catholic, too. Every time he’d get wasted, she’d spend at least an hour there on her knees, praying. Just begging God to take the suffering away—though, obviously, nothing ever changed. After realizing her prayers weren't being answered, she’d eventually just sigh and say, "Well, I guess this is just my lot in life; everyone carries their own cross, and I have to carry mine." Basically, she views it as her penance—like she's practically guaranteed a VIP pass to heaven because of it.

During my last couple of years of high school, I was the only kid left at home with my parents. That meant all those venting sessions and endless complaints my mom used to save for my sisters were suddenly dumped right on me. Dad was still drinking, Mom was still kneeling there praying to God—it was just the same old cycle, and I had a front-row seat. Looking back, I didn't see it then, but she basically groomed me to be her emotional anchor. I became the one listening to her rants about Dad, absorbing all that domestic drama. Eventually, I started stepping up to fill the gaps—doing the dishes, cleaning the house, helping with everything she needed. If she needed a ride anywhere, I was the driver. We’d spend entire afternoons running errands together, just wandering through Target or the grocery store. If I ever dared to push back or complain, she’d break down in tears, telling me she had absolutely no one left in this world to lean on. It stayed that way for a few years after graduation, too, until I finally landed a job in another city. I still remember the look on her face when I was packing up to leave—she looked like her heart was actually shattering. I left, of course, even if it felt a little heavy to walk away.

So, here I am. I’m 24, and honestly, I haven't been in a relationship since high school—which, looking back, was right before I moved back in with my parents. Lately, I’ve realized I have this massive anxiety whenever I try to approach a woman. It’s weird, because I didn't used to be like this. Now, I can't help but feel like women are somehow superior—like they deserve this level of constant reverence and being put on a pedestal. It actually gets uncomfortable for me when guys start talking about women, sex, or anything like that in a group setting. If someone makes a joke at their expense, I genuinely feel insulted. I only recently started connecting the dots on why I'm like this—it looks like my mother is the root cause of all of it. How do I actually fix this?

Based on what you wrote, it’s unlikely you could get through to someone like that.
But that response isn't meant for you; it's for that idealist who posted earlier.

Honestly, this whole situation is more about your mom's concerns than yours now. She seems determined to play the martyr to secure her own version of paradise, so it wouldn't be wise to get in the way of her mission. You should focus on your own stuff and meeting girls instead.
Giving her advice is fine, and listening occasionally is okay, but you need to realize it’s time for her to step up for you, or at least stop dumping everything on you. You shouldn't be the one constantly carrying her worries, problems, court dates, and errands like some overworked housekeeper in her later years.

In her mind, him and the life they have is her ticket to heaven, and there isn't much you can do to change that,
except protect yourself from the fallout of her choices.

You definitely can't talk to her about this, right?

Moving out was the best decision you could have made. I get where you're coming from—it's your Dad in your situation, whereas for me, it was my Mom. I had to step up and handle everything myself. Even though I haven't lived under the same roof for six months now, they still admit they're lost without someone there to cook, clean, fix things, or just grab what's needed... someone is available, they just won't do it.
You’ll never truly erase those old scars; you just have to learn how to live with them. Don't isolate yourself. Go out, meet people, just relax. I suspect your confidence has taken a hit. It certainly did mine. Believe in yourself and try to stop overthinking everything. When your buddies make a joke about women, you take it as a personal attack on the entire gender. Just let it go.

ruggedtinker8 said:You have to realize that women who stay with spouses like that, and
who basically serve up that kind of nonsense to their kids by staying, are actually being STUPID (not being pious or good)
or they have some sort of calculated reason—some small daily advantage where it’s easier to just let things stay the way they are (even if it hurts the kids) rather than changing anything.

Once you see that your mom isn't actually a saint, and that she didn't use her "kindness" to guilt-trip you into feeling like you always have to be perfect, you'll start seeing the world differently.

It wouldn't be great if you swung too far the other way and started enjoying putting women down, but a little shift in how you view them might do you some good.
Women aren't angels just because they're women. They can be just as messy as guys.

There it is... reality... the truth... facts.

Personally, I feel I've "outgrown" my parents (regardless of the specific situation or age, the principle remains the same)... as well as many other things considered "normal"... so, prepare yourself and be ready for anything. My advice? Just look out for yourself and trust your own judgment, no matter what life throws your way.

I totally agree—moving out was such a great move on your part.
Maybe it’s a bit awkward to drop deep analysis like this on a forum, but since you're asking, here’s my take: it honestly feels like your mom didn't really protect you or your sisters at all. And man, that was her actual job. I can see you starting to realize that too. Accepting it isn't easy, and it definitely won't happen overnight, but it’s not impossible. Doing that is how you break down those built-in false perceptions. I bet growing up with her gave you this subconscious idea that men are somehow inferior, especially because you had to watch your dad be... well, exactly who he was.
Usually, there’s this rough psychological pattern where you resent your mom first, and then your dad. But you couldn't even get to the stage of separating from her and identifying with your father as your own gender, because she basically kept you "attached to her hip" and dependent on her—while your dad was, as you put it, practically non-existent. It makes building any kind of self-confidence nearly impossible. If you love your mom, and she seems right because she loves you unconditionally and means well, then it implies that you, as a man, aren't good enough either. Especially if you dare to leave her, just like your dad did. He wasn't exactly "what a father should be," which makes sense, since people usually end up with what they deserve. Your dad was unpredictable—he triggered fear, helplessness, and straight-up disgust—and instead of protecting you from that, your mom actually leaned into it, piling on the guilt and using you as an emotional shield to keep you a perpetual child. On top of that, she built herself up in your eyes, totally undeservedly, because she chose to play the martyr. It’s not surprising she vented to you about everything; it’s understandable that life with a guy like that was miserable, up to a certain point. But not to the point where you spend your entire life defending her. You probably feel a subconscious anger toward her, but you're fighting the urge to actually feel it. Just try not to fall for girls who mirror her exact emotional patterns—that's usually how it goes. Your parents just didn't give you a blueprint for what a healthy relationship looks like. Maybe that’s why intimacy scares you. Maybe you're holding back from girls because, first, being a man would mean you're "bad," second, it means you have an identity separate from your mother (which she never wanted, because that would mean you might actually hurt her), and third, it feels like a betrayal of her, since she's positioned herself as the sole source of love and moral superiority.
I'm just writing this based on my own vibes and experience—I'm no expert. Honestly, I think my own experience was a bit easier, and since I'm a woman, I might not fully grasp certain nuances because I haven't lived that mother-son dynamic. But what you're saying makes total sense. If I had to sum it up, I'd say this: living on your own is a massive step. The fact that you're even digging into the roots of your intimacy issues is huge. Everything will start clicking once you work through those emotions that used to crush you but you weren't allowed to feel.

Tapatalk

ruggedtinker8 said:Your dad probably has issues that go way deeper than just being an alcoholic. Swings in mood several times a day—you mentioned five—and forcing everyone else in the house to walk on eggshells or follow his specific rules... that sounds less like simple drinking and more like psychological manipulation or some kind of mental health struggle paired with the booze.

Based on what you wrote, it’s unlikely you could get through to someone like that.
But that response isn't meant for you; it's for that idealist who posted earlier.

Honestly, this whole situation is more about your mom's concerns than yours now. She seems determined to play the martyr to secure her own version of paradise, so it wouldn't be wise to get in the way of her mission. You should focus on your own stuff and meeting girls instead.
Giving her advice is fine, and listening occasionally is okay, but you need to realize it’s time for her to step up for you, or at least stop dumping everything on you. You shouldn't be the one constantly carrying her worries, problems, court dates, and errands like some overworked housekeeper in her later years.

In her mind, him and the life they have is her ticket to heaven, and there isn't much you can do to change that,
except protect yourself from the fallout of her choices.

You definitely can't talk to her about this, right?

I haven't lived with my parents for quite a while now—I've kept some distance 186 miles from them. Honestly, we barely even talk anymore. In the beginning, my mom would call me at least once a week, and we'd spend an hour or two rehashing the same old stories. Eventually, I just told her those calls were getting to me, so now we really only touch base on birthdays and holidays.

Moving out was easily the best decision I ever made, though I still struggle with that old mindset I grew up with back home—it’s a hard habit to break.

Rachel Rogers said:I totally agree—moving out was such a great move on your part.
Maybe it’s a bit awkward to drop deep analysis like this on a forum, but since you're asking, here’s my take: it honestly feels like your mom didn't really protect you or your sisters at all. And man, that was her actual job. I can see you starting to realize that too. Accepting it isn't easy, and it definitely won't happen overnight, but it’s not impossible. Doing that is how you break down those built-in false perceptions. I bet growing up with her gave you this subconscious idea that men are somehow inferior, especially because you had to watch your dad be... well, exactly who he was.
Usually, there’s this rough psychological pattern where you resent your mom first, and then your dad. But you couldn't even get to the stage of separating from her and identifying with your father as your own gender, because she basically kept you "attached to her hip" and dependent on her—while your dad was, as you put it, practically non-existent. It makes building any kind of self-confidence nearly impossible. If you love your mom, and she seems right because she loves you unconditionally and means well, then it implies that you, as a man, aren't good enough either. Especially if you dare to leave her, just like your dad did. He wasn't exactly "what a father should be," which makes sense, since people usually end up with what they deserve. Your dad was unpredictable—he triggered fear, helplessness, and straight-up disgust—and instead of protecting you from that, your mom actually leaned into it, piling on the guilt and using you as an emotional shield to keep you a perpetual child. On top of that, she built herself up in your eyes, totally undeservedly, because she chose to play the martyr. It’s not surprising she vented to you about everything; it’s understandable that life with a guy like that was miserable, up to a certain point. But not to the point where you spend your entire life defending her. You probably feel a subconscious anger toward her, but you're fighting the urge to actually feel it. Just try not to fall for girls who mirror her exact emotional patterns—that's usually how it goes. Your parents just didn't give you a blueprint for what a healthy relationship looks like. Maybe that’s why intimacy scares you. Maybe you're holding back from girls because, first, being a man would mean you're "bad," second, it means you have an identity separate from your mother (which she never wanted, because that would mean you might actually hurt her), and third, it feels like a betrayal of her, since she's positioned herself as the sole source of love and moral superiority.
I'm just writing this based on my own vibes and experience—I'm no expert. Honestly, I think my own experience was a bit easier, and since I'm a woman, I might not fully grasp certain nuances because I haven't lived that mother-son dynamic. But what you're saying makes total sense. If I had to sum it up, I'd say this: living on your own is a massive step. The fact that you're even digging into the roots of your intimacy issues is huge. Everything will start clicking once you work through those emotions that used to crush you but you weren't allowed to feel.

Tapatalk

Thanks. 🙂