Dear Mom,
I'm sorry I had to cut you out of my life again. I'm sorry. The apology is as much for me as it is for you. It's my fault this happened--again. I let you in, saw a glimmer of hope, and let you in a little more. But that glimmer fizzled fast once you'd gotten to the end of your fuse. They were someone else's words, anyway, probably sent to make yourself feel better about not wanting to change because that kind of work is beyond your comprehension. I'm sorry that it is. For both of us.
Dear Mom. Because you start a letter to your mother that way, even when your sense of endearment is laced with doubt over its authenticity. I'm sorry about that, too. Sorry because I wish we had an authentic connection. I haven't been able to build one on my own.
You can't know how it hurts when you flood messenger with repetitive words and literature to convince me of a self-diagnosed disorder. How convenient for you that you should realize now that you've had aphasia your whole life, that you cannot remember places or people or events. Is this how you excuse yourself for not remembering how you hurt me? Excuse yourself from remembering?
Dear mom you do not have aphasia. You've shared enough memories of people, places, and events in your lifetime to prove to me otherwise, including that story you recounted to me and my brother recently on the train for everyone to hear. Remember that one? About your dad beating you and breaking your record player? I didn't know how to set a boundary in that situation, nor with you, ever. Boundaries are only ever met with anger and accusation, and never stick. So I went on my phone and looked up videos of startled cats and laughed out loud. Somehow that worked, and you stopped talking about your abusive childhood.
I don't want you to hate yourself, nor think that I hate you. I want you to love yourself. To feel safe inside. To understand that the reason you hurt others is because of your own repressed, unresolved pain. I tell myself that since I'm your daughter and since I got myself here to this strong and stable place, that you can, too. But I can't be the one to start you on this journey. I won't hold your hand and point out and explain each time your behavior is hurtful in the hopes that it will help you learn, grow, and heal. Not at my own expense.
Dear mom and the worst part is, it doesn't hurt to let you go. It hurts to let the dream go. In the dream you find your healing journey. Lightbulbs turn on and tears are shed. Self-love is found and reparations are made, and I fall into the open arms of a warm and loving mother.
I woke from this dream a wiser me and looked into your gaping and relentless wounds. Who you are hurts me. I can't tell you this without you hurting me more.
Dear ____ ,
All pictures and words copyright Anna Horvitz (me) and cannot be used without my consent.
Interesting. I always say the right thing you see and, this time, all I got is I read it, team Soob.
And BAM, just like that, you said the right thing without even trying.
Thanks for reading.
Great angle to express suppressed thoughts or feelings, not everything in life ends in a pretty picture...
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Thanks! Life = usually pretty hard. That's why we celebrate the pretty things so dearly.
Totally agree!
Poignant. Beautiful. Tragic.
Few things are as difficult to overcome as our parents not being who we want (or need) them to be.
🖤 Yup. Therapeutic reparenting makes up for a lot but there's really nothing like getting the unconditional love you need from the human you were born to admire.
Thanks for reading.
😊
OMG emoji, read the room.
Yup. Sometimes you just have to let them go
And replace them with cats. 👍
Or dogs.
or crows.
And plants 🌵 and oddly enough, in my 50s I found myself able to be with someone who is good to me. Giving up the solitary habits hasn't been easy
Plants!!!
50s, you say.... sounds promising. I am happy to wait another decade to fully entrench myself in the solitary habits before giving them up for someone worthwhile.
That is very relatable. Not within my immediate family, but it's definitely a great bitterness (I imagine made more so by proximity). What a beautiful write-up from a messy situation. You're a fantastic writer, as I'm sure I've said before. I hope it gives you some relief.
Thank you, @honeydue. It does indeed. A good catharsis.
Hopefully someday that dream can be reality..
It's possible... 🖤
Some similar issues in my past. IMHO Forgiveness is over-rated, and sometimes just plain not earned or deserved.
For me, better to just disconnect, leave it in the past, and move forward on finding what we need in other places and making sure we don't have to reconnect with that soul in our next life. Finish the business in this one, and connect with others in the next.
"There's no milk at the auto-parts store".
Best to ya!
!HOPE
Testing out this new to me Engine tipping thing.
LOL!!! Perfect.
I'm afraid that tip was hopeless. Thanks, though, for the gesture!
❤️
A relief writing it, and one to read it, resonate and know that even though...
...it somehow helps to know none of us is the only one going through this (or that's how it makes me feel)
I agree. The magic of sharing comes with finding that bold community who gets it.