Navigating the tricky waters of being in a Mother-Daughter Cold War

I am in a conflicted spot of being thankful to be born as my mother's daughter while hating it with as much hatred a person my size can muster. I am 5'3, by the way.

It must be so difficult being my mom, Mama as I call her, to have a daughter such as I, with the temper that I have (thanks to the lethal combination of her impatience and my father's innate rage) to the way my brain works. I am flippant to a fault but don't have the consistency to stand the frivolity of others, much more hers. I hate the idea of her being sad but am so abhorrent of her tears as if it's a crime to have emotions and to cry.

I hate the way she explodes in anger, as if it's so foreign to me, knowing fully well that I can be as destructive and all-consuming in my hate. I always see red, but I find it so incongruous when she displays in it all its glory.

I hate that I can't be a source of comfort to her, and I hate that my default response to her despair is indifference, when seeing her suffering is the very last thing I want to witness..s 

It must be so hard being a mother to a daughter like me. I hope her motherliness has all the required patience and love to continue being a parent to me. The kind of parent that I need.