My mom hated DH from the word go. She was jealous of my attention, I guess, and mad that he encouraged me to be more independent. I decided to skip going home for my bday one year: I was working 6 days a week and it was a 3+ hour drive each way. She called and said if I was not home in three hours that she was calling the cops and reporting my car stolen. I spent the whole day crying in bed, but I didn’t give in. Afterwards she called to tell me I was an ingrate because I didn’t thank her for giving me life. In twenty years I had never done that or heard such a thing. It was the beginning of years of erratic, hateful behavior.