Overbearing mothers usually give way to one of two things in their children: rebellion or passivity. In your case, the latter.

What’s the difference?” I asked him. “Between the love of your life, and your soulmate?”
“One is a choice, and one is not.

Try to look at everything through the eyes of a child.

A mother understands what a child does not say.

Tell me a truth, Senna."
"I don't know how," I breath.
"Then tell me a lie."
"I don't love you," I say. I sink beneath the weight of it all.
Isaac stirs behind me, and then he is leaning over me, his elbows on either side of my head.
"The truth is for the mind," he says. "Lies are for the heart. So let's just keep lying.

That's why writers write—to say things loudly with ink. To give feet to thoughts; to make quiet, still feelings loudly heard.