To my FOO

[Hope67]

Letter (not to send) to reply to a letter written to me over a decade ago:

Dear FOO,

I've reread the letter you sent me, and I need to say something now that I couldn't say then. Your words hurt me. They didn't just upset me — they confirmed, painfully and unmistakably, that there was no room for my feelings or my truth in our relationship. You didn't ask what was happening for me. You didn't try to understand why I was struggling. You didn't reach out with curiosity or care. Instead, you attacked my character, questioned my integrity, and used guilt and obligation as tools to pull me back into a dynamic that had already been hurting me for years.

I am angry about that. I am angry that you spoke to me as though I were a disappointment to be corrected rather than a daughter who was hurting. I am angry that you chose accusation over empathy, control over connection, and shame over understanding. I am angry that you rewrote events to make me the villain because it was easier than looking at yourselves. I am angry that you treated my boundaries as betrayal instead of self‑preservation.

And beneath that anger, there is grief — a grief I carried quietly for a long time. I grieved the parents I wished I had, the ones who might have asked "Are you okay?" instead of "What is the matter with you?" I grieved the possibility of a relationship where my voice mattered, where my needs weren't dismissed, where love wasn't conditional on compliance. I grieved the closeness I hoped for but never actually had. That grief was real, and it shaped me. But it no longer owns me.

Your letter didn't just hurt me; it ended something. It showed me clearly that the relationship I hoped for wasn't the relationship we had. It showed me that stepping back wasn't cowardice — it was survival. It showed me that the distance I took was necessary, protective, and the only way I could stop carrying the weight of a dynamic that was crushing me.

I am not carrying that weight anymore. I am not carrying the shame you tried to place on me. I am not carrying the blame you assigned. I am not carrying the story you wrote about me. I have outgrown the chapter your letter belongs to, and I am closing the door on it now — fully, finally, and without hesitation.

I wish you whatever peace you can find. But I am done trying to make myself small enough to fit into a version of family that never made space for me. This is the end of that story.

1st July 2026 - I have written this today (with some help from AI) but essentially I feel happy that it conveys what I wanted to say.  The only paragraph that I feel isn't completely 'true' is the one where it says I'm not carrying that weight anymore - because it's more that I'd like that paragraph to be true, and hope that by writing that, that it will move towards being true.  It was therapeutic for me to write this today.

[NarcKiddo]

It strikes me that "I am not carrying that weight anymore..." can be a statement of intent rather than fact.

I'm sorry the letter you received hurt you. I'm glad you have now written yours.

 

[zen_racer]

 

[Marcine]

I witness your anger, grief and clarity, Hope.
More power to you.
 

[Hope67]

Thank you so much NarcKiddo, Zen_Racer and Marcine.