“Yes Mum”: The Day I Stopped Fighting My Mother’s Abuse
When your own parent is the source of constant ridicule and emotional torment, sometimes the only power left is quiet defiance. This story captures how one daughter turned a command meant to silence her into her own form of control.
The author recalls a childhood marked by relentless verbal abuse from her mother, who would chase her around the house, break down doors, and humiliate her publicly. What began as silent endurance evolved into a small act of rebellion when she learned that defending herself only brought more chaos and punishment from her parents.
I grew up being told that keeping quiet was the safest way to survive my mother’s rage. When I finally learned to talk back, it only made things worse — so I found a different kind of answer.
The writer describes a household where her mother’s constant yelling, insults, and public humiliation were the norm. As a teen, she began to push back — only for her father, whom she admired, to tell her that her reactions were the real problem. His “solution” was simple: no matter what her mother said, she should just respond with “yes mum.”
“It doesn’t matter what she says to you — you know it’s a lie. Just say ‘yes mum’ and it’ll be easier for everyone.”
Hoping to keep peace in the house, she obeyed — but on her own terms. Instead of arguing, she’d smile sweetly and answer, “Yes mother,” each time her mom lashed out. It wasn’t submission anymore; it was a quiet act of resistance, a way to show she no longer feared her mother’s control.
“Every time she behaved abusively, I’d smile and say it — calm, polite, and louder than her rage.”
Eventually, the years of tension built a permanent wall between them. As an adult, the writer cut contact entirely, choosing silence not out of fear, but freedom. Therapy helped her understand that “yes mother” had become a symbol of reclaiming control — on her own terms.
🏠 The Aftermath
Now, the two no longer speak, and peace finally fills the silence once filled by shouting.
The writer moved on, built her own life, and found validation through therapy and self-reflection. Her father remained distant, unable to confront the past.
There’s no reconciliation — just a quiet acceptance that sometimes walking away is the only form of healing left.
“Silence turned out to be louder than all the screaming.”
It’s not a victory dance, just relief. The calm after years of emotional chaos feels strange but sacred — like finally stepping out into sunlight after years indoors.
💭 Emotional Reflection
This story shows how children in abusive homes often develop survival tactics that look like obedience but carry deep inner strength. Saying “yes mother” became a coping mechanism — and, later, a boundary.
The emotional weight lies not in defiance but in transformation: turning forced submission into chosen composure. It’s a lesson in how control can be quietly reclaimed when shouting back only feeds the chaos.
There’s room for empathy on all sides, but the real takeaway is how silence can be both armor and rebellion, depending on who wields it.
Reddit readers were divided but deeply moved by her quiet rebellion.
“You found the only way to win — refusing to play her game anymore.”
“Your dad failed you, but you learned what real peace sounds like.”
“It’s sad it came to this, but sometimes ‘yes mother’ is the only way to stay sane.”
Most agreed that her calm defiance was powerful, though some mourned the lost chance for reconciliation. Others simply saw it as the survival story it truly was.
🌱 Final Thoughts
Sometimes the hardest battles aren’t fought with shouting — they’re fought in silence, with composure that refuses to break. This story reminds us that dignity can survive even the cruelest words.
In the end, “yes mother” wasn’t surrender — it was the sound of freedom.
What do you think?
Would you have left, or stayed and kept trying to make it work? Share your thoughts below 👇






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