This is really close to how I picture Rose’s childhood. When she was very young, she would crawl into bed with Roxy, press her hands to her cheeks and smooth her hair, and tell her she wasn’t going anywhere.
Her interest in psychology began as an attempt to “fix” her mother.
As Rose grew older, she began to close the door on her mother- disgusted with her weakness, heartsick that she couldn’t give her what she needed to stop. She’d bury herself in books afterward; fantasy for comfort and as an escape, psychology because she never quite gave up on solving Roxy’s problems for her.