i would’ve killed to have a parent that actually bothered to understand the bare basics of my interests… my mom would always say shit like, “i don’t know anything about video games. i don’t like them. you know that.” whenever i asked her to play with me, get mad at me for asking, get mad at me for gushing about them when all she’d do was tune it out.
so i stopped asking! i stopped wanting to do things with her! she only ever did things with me when it was something she liked and made ME get into so she could feel good about herself!
if my mom had ever once sat down, sucked at video games, but spent time with me… it would’ve meant the world to me! if she ever noticed what books i was reading and asked me about them, anything more than surface-level, maybe i would’ve actually felt okay with telling her how i felt about the things that upset me when she asked! she’d get pissed at me for not telling her what was bothering me when she never gave me a reason to think she’d ever listen or take it to heart! obviously it’s a lot more complicated and she was violently abusive in other ways too so i didn’t trust her but that was definitely a foundation.