Twenty years ago, as a kid, I wrote you a letter out of desperation and immense pain. In that letter, which I never gave to you but kept it till this day, I asked you a question and tried to answer it for myself. The question was: why don´t you love me? I kept asking in the letter if I did something wrong and if you were ever going to love me. Now, as an adult, with a long healing journey behind me and an even longer one ahead of me, I´m not asking any of those questions anymore. Not that I gave up, I just simply know the answers to those questions. And that is that it was never about me in the first place. I´ve always been worthy of love, I´ve always been enough, only you couldn´t see it, couldn´t see me. You were and still are unable to see my value as your child or even as a human being. You keep telling me how proud you are of me, but your words don´t match your actions, and even your usual words don´t match those you´re saying when you´re in a good mood.
You know, this is the hardest part not just for me, but for many of my fellow trauma survivors: coming to terms with the fact that my own mother can´t appreciate and love me unconditionally. Of all the people who don´t owe me anything, who are strangers to me, right you, mother, have to be the one that doesn´t see how precious I am? It hurts in the deepest realms of my soul, at the place that I am keeping untouched till the day when you will finally acknowledge my existence. But I have to brace myself for the possibility that this day might never come.
And I´m building a fine, silky net from all the wonderful people I meet, from all the love and warmth I get, from all the strength and resilience I collect from within me. And it gets stronger and stronger, even though it still keeps its fragility. I am learning the things you never taught me: how to be accepting of myself and others, how to receive and give love, how to be vulnerable and fierce at the same time, how to live a meaningful life.
Now I´m writing you this letter that you´ll also never see. But I don´t mind it, you know. I´m starting to be okay with the fact that you´ll never see me the way you should as a mother. And that I don´t have to explain you the basics of how to love your children. It´s not my duty to heal you and to make you see me. I´m on my own healing journey and guess what: it´s awesome and empowering and most importantly, I´m learning that the way you raised me was not okay and that it wasn´t my fault, it wasn´t something I did wrong, it just happened because of your huuge package of unresolved trauma. Seeing the better examples of how you can live your life gives me hope. I wish one day you can experience it, too.
Your letter is incredibly powerful. The clarity, strength, and self-compassion you've built are present in every line. It's both heartbreaking and inspiring to see how you've come to understand that the absence of your mother's love was never about your worth.
I haven't made as much progress yet, but reading your words genuinely gives me hope. The image of the "silky net" you're building - woven both from the people who see you and the resilience you've grown yourself - really moved me. It captures something I'm still trying to build in my own life.
Thank you for sharing something so vulnerable and hard-won. Your progress shows, and it helps others more than you may realize. :hug: