Write a letter to your mom. Tell her something you’ve always wanted to say, but haven’t been able to.
Where do I even start? One blog post could never be enough to say all the things I’d like to tell you, you hateful bitch, so I’ll just keep it brief by sticking to the highlights.
I know I never came close to your vision of the perfect daughter. I know I never came close to even an “acceptable” daughter in your eyes.
Even though you’ve been dead for over 5 years, you will be happy to know, that I still struggle on a daily basis with the seeds of self loathing you planted in me, and am also trying to overcome the other ways you fucked with my head each and every day of my life. It should also give you a chuckle to know that now I see you every time I look in the mirror. The older I get, the more I look like you.
If it wasn’t for my “mean, cold, icy, blue eyes” as you liked to call them, we could almost be twins. It makes my stomach lurch when people tell me that I look like you.
Slowly but surely, I am winning this battle with myself that you started. Here’s a few examples you may find surprising~
~Remember when you gave your lovely clothes to The Goodwill, because you said I was “too fat” to wear any of them? Well, I finally overcame the demon of compulsive eating. I lost all that weight-most of it after your death, and I have kept most of it off too. I swore I would never use booze as my crutch like you did, so I’m happy to report that I don’t need food as a crutch anymore either.
~Those kids of mine? The ones you called brats, monsters and hellions? They are all fine young men now, no thanks to you. I managed to raise all three without ever, EVER making them feel worthless.
~But the best part is this. Remember that wonderful boy I loved so very much in college? The one you said would never amount to anything? The one you said that if I continued to date him you would stop paying for my college tuiton? (And you weren’t bluffing, you really pulled the plug on my college education) The one that you and other forces helped to tear away from me so long ago?
Well guess what? That boy-almost 30 years later is my husband now. I know now why you hated him so much. He loves and accepts me for exactly who and what I am. He doesn’t try to make me be something I’m not. He thinks I’m fabulous just the way I am. You never wanted that for me. How could you possibly let me continue in the frivolous direction I was going?
I needed to be molded into the perfect marriagable candidate. A “catch” for any eligible doctor, lawyer or up and comer so I could effortlessly float my way into the country club lifestyle you imagined for me.
Sorry Mommy Dearest. That just isn’t me. It never was, and it never will be.
But you know what else? My darling new husband told me that if you were still alive, this rekindled love affair would never have happened.
Your poison tentacles were so far reaching that you could still blight anything good and wonderful in my life because having to deal with you would have outweighed the happiness he may have had with me. You must be so proud of that.
I hope that they have the internet in the depths of hell, so that you can read this. If it’s really hell, you’ll have to read it every day for eternity. If that were the case, I’d be the one laughing.
Living the dream in spite of your best efforts,