Richard Russo’s mother was a total rancid stank-ass bitch who fucked him up proper and good. But he became a famous writer, at least, because she did one thing right. She always told him that he could become anything he wanted and she believed it. That’s an enormous gift. Which doesn’t excuse the rest of the rancid shit she did to him but it’s better than nothing.
As the great psychoanalyst of childhood Winnicott said, even a horrible parent is better than no parent.