Dear Mom,
When I was young, I feared you. I feared your judgement. I feared your misunderstandings. I feared the shame. I feared the criticisms about the way I walked, talked, stood, held my hands, jittered in anxiety.
I wanted you to love me, so I held my tongue. I wanted you to love me so I took your past into consideration. I wanted you to love me so I sacrificed my beliefs, ideas, and behaviors to not anger you; to stay safe.
I accepted your lies about my father. I accepted your lies about our family. I accepted your lives about how others should behave.
Sure, you had trauma in your upbringing, but I can't forgive you for passing that on to me. I can't forgive you for passing that on to my sister. I won't acknowledge your pain, because you refused to acknowledge mine.
When I disfigured myself, you thought of yourself. You nag me on money, you shame me for self-medicating, you tell me my thinking is black and white. Yet you live in fantasies. You are just like me, but you refuse to see it.
You tell me now that you understand, but that is new, isn't it? Remember 2 years ago when you didn't? When you continued to attack me for being the person you created? Remember the last year? When my inner child had to scream at you, in tears and sorrow, to get you to come to the rudimentary, ever slipping, understanding of what you've done?
Do you remember anything that doesn't directly impact you? You carry the facade of being quiet and understated, but that wasnt the person I knew. You were always cold, ignorant, and simple minded. You took out your personal pain on your children, children you never had to have. You made a choice, then you molded them into copies of yourself, just so you could project your self-hatred onto them.
I could reason you were doing it unconsciously, that I should not feel the disgust I do. That I should be conscientious of your pain. But I won't. I've done that for years, to no avail. You gave me no credit for that, and it kills me to pretend that it was ever ok.
I dont have a single happy memory of you. My earliest memory is of Disney Land. I don't remember the characters, fantasy or excitement. I remember you and my aunt losing me and me sitting in a chair at the security office. I dont remember feeling scared or abandoned or even upset. I only remember feeling... this is how it is.
I remember your accusation of my character. I remember when you ignored me when I had behavioral problems at school. I remember you not caring when I spent my entire summers holed up in my room, reading books and picking my dandruff. I remember learning from the internet how to wipe my own *. I remember learning how to cook from Youtube. I remember spending hours in the tub to avoid you.
I don't think I love you. Many years ago I thought I was a sociopath for believing this. What kind of monster doesn't love their own mother? The real question should have been: What kind of mother treats their children the way you did?
I'm done. You begged me for real conversation for years, constantly annoyed when I talked about politics, religion, or other subjects outside of my personal life. Now that I've done what you've demanded for so long you desperately try to run from my cutting thoughts. You fall back to your old antics, accusing me of black and white thinking, defending monsters so that your nature is not too damaged.
If you were not my mother I would laugh at your foolishness and move on. But you're in my head. My only solution is to leave you forever. You will not understand why. But I no longer care. I have only one life, there is nothing more. I will not spend the rest of it under your abuse - the world is abusive enough, I'd prefer those closest to me to be my barriers against this ugliness rather than preservers of the pit.
Goodbye Mother. I am in your life out of necessity. Once I have the tools and resources to leave, you will never hear from me again. It breaks my heart, but I know now that it is my only option.
Goodbye forever Mom,
Your Unseen Daughter
I'm sure it was very tough to realise and then write all of those things. I hope it has given you some comfort, for you deserve that.
Your words sound very similar to what I wish/had said to my own mother. You are not alone in this. When you're able, leaving will be so healing. I wish you the best Yaya