I know you tried, but I did too.
The following is a post I have written as an exercise during therapy to try to put resentment behind me. As my mom has dementia, I am unable to share some of my feeling with her. My counsellor suggested writing them out as a way to move on, let go. I'm sharing this in hopes it reaches someone who can relate, or it moves someone to do the same exercise. It was very cathartic.
Dear Mom,
For the past 26 years you have loved me more than anyone else, more than yourself even, maybe that's where the issue started. It breaks my heart everyday that we never got more time together. 22 years with your best friend isn't enough, it will never be enough. When I think back to the 22 years we lived together, good memories outshine the bad ones every time. I think that's why it was hard to realize how big your hand was in this mess. I never wanted to blame you, from so early on you told me how hard you had it. It's hard for me to say I had an abusive childhood when you actually got beaten. It makes me feel like a fraud, like someone wanting to play the victim to say things like that.
I wonder too often how things would have panned out if a few things had changed. I wish I could have realized sooner that what I was living through was not normal. I thought all moms told their kids everything. 5 year olds shouldn't be told their dad doesn't love them. 7 year olds aren't supposed to know about rape. 9 year olds weren't supposed to drag their passed out moms to bed. 12 year olds could have sleepovers, and go to friends houses without feeling like they were hurting their parents. Every social thing I did made you feel like I was abandoning you, like I was purposefully hurting you to seek out friendship amongst my peers. Mom, you weren't supposed to be my friend yet. Not like that. At one time I thought it was cool having a mom who showed me all of these grown up things but now I wish I could have been a kid.
I still feel like at some point it was my responsibility to seek out help for you. Deep down inside I think I should have stopped your drinking, begged you to find help, gotten you on anti-depressants sooner. I didn't know you were sick. I didn't realize that you would go to a home, that I would feel like I lost you. I didn't know who to ask for help. I don't even know what resources I could have turned to. Turning to Dad would have meant loosing you, I think. You never left me alone so I could even find us help. I just wanted to help. I wanted you to be able to meet your grandkids and walk me down the aisle to stick it to Dad, and be a part of my life past my twenties.
It has taken me 4 years to realize it was never my responsibility to save you. You are the one who decided to be a mom, to make your primary focus caring for me and instead of doing that you created someone who could never leave you like everyone else. And that thought has crossed my mind in times of desperation. Instead of getting pregnant though, I got a cat, so maybe that's progress. You tried to use me to heal yourself and I wish it had worked. I wish you had gotten yourself help. I wish so hard you had let me be a kid, and have friends so I wouldn't be social inept. I shouldn't feel like I would do anything for someone to be my friend, or to feel popular. I should be confident in myself. I shouldn't feel like talking about being a victim is the most interesting thing I have to offer to a story.
I have spent 4 years replaying the moment in fourth grade when I told you that you could live with me forever, promising you that no matter what we would always be together. I replay the moment you made me promise to never bring you back to the hospital. I replay the moment when a 22 year old had to break those promises. It should never have been a decision I had to make. I'm so sorry that things turned out this way, but I was a kid. Being the best mom to me also meant making sure you were fit for the job. I wish you had tried to become healthy mentally so that things would have panned out differently.
It feels like a slap in the face that you are on anti-depressants now that you're in a home, and not living with me. But you are still my best friend. And hilarious. And now that I'm 26 our relationship is finally an appropriate one. I promise I will learn from the mom you were, the stories you told, and be better - do better for my kids. Maybe all of this was meant to be. You were unable to get help for yourself, and for that I am sorry, but at least I have started a generational healing process. I know you tried your best. You loved me with every single ounce you could. You still do, and I love you that much too. Everything I do is for both of us, forever. You will always be my constant.
Dear Mom,
For the past 26 years you have loved me more than anyone else, more than yourself even, maybe that's where the issue started. It breaks my heart everyday that we never got more time together. 22 years with your best friend isn't enough, it will never be enough. When I think back to the 22 years we lived together, good memories outshine the bad ones every time. I think that's why it was hard to realize how big your hand was in this mess. I never wanted to blame you, from so early on you told me how hard you had it. It's hard for me to say I had an abusive childhood when you actually got beaten. It makes me feel like a fraud, like someone wanting to play the victim to say things like that.
I wonder too often how things would have panned out if a few things had changed. I wish I could have realized sooner that what I was living through was not normal. I thought all moms told their kids everything. 5 year olds shouldn't be told their dad doesn't love them. 7 year olds aren't supposed to know about rape. 9 year olds weren't supposed to drag their passed out moms to bed. 12 year olds could have sleepovers, and go to friends houses without feeling like they were hurting their parents. Every social thing I did made you feel like I was abandoning you, like I was purposefully hurting you to seek out friendship amongst my peers. Mom, you weren't supposed to be my friend yet. Not like that. At one time I thought it was cool having a mom who showed me all of these grown up things but now I wish I could have been a kid.
I still feel like at some point it was my responsibility to seek out help for you. Deep down inside I think I should have stopped your drinking, begged you to find help, gotten you on anti-depressants sooner. I didn't know you were sick. I didn't realize that you would go to a home, that I would feel like I lost you. I didn't know who to ask for help. I don't even know what resources I could have turned to. Turning to Dad would have meant loosing you, I think. You never left me alone so I could even find us help. I just wanted to help. I wanted you to be able to meet your grandkids and walk me down the aisle to stick it to Dad, and be a part of my life past my twenties.
It has taken me 4 years to realize it was never my responsibility to save you. You are the one who decided to be a mom, to make your primary focus caring for me and instead of doing that you created someone who could never leave you like everyone else. And that thought has crossed my mind in times of desperation. Instead of getting pregnant though, I got a cat, so maybe that's progress. You tried to use me to heal yourself and I wish it had worked. I wish you had gotten yourself help. I wish so hard you had let me be a kid, and have friends so I wouldn't be social inept. I shouldn't feel like I would do anything for someone to be my friend, or to feel popular. I should be confident in myself. I shouldn't feel like talking about being a victim is the most interesting thing I have to offer to a story.
I have spent 4 years replaying the moment in fourth grade when I told you that you could live with me forever, promising you that no matter what we would always be together. I replay the moment you made me promise to never bring you back to the hospital. I replay the moment when a 22 year old had to break those promises. It should never have been a decision I had to make. I'm so sorry that things turned out this way, but I was a kid. Being the best mom to me also meant making sure you were fit for the job. I wish you had tried to become healthy mentally so that things would have panned out differently.
It feels like a slap in the face that you are on anti-depressants now that you're in a home, and not living with me. But you are still my best friend. And hilarious. And now that I'm 26 our relationship is finally an appropriate one. I promise I will learn from the mom you were, the stories you told, and be better - do better for my kids. Maybe all of this was meant to be. You were unable to get help for yourself, and for that I am sorry, but at least I have started a generational healing process. I know you tried your best. You loved me with every single ounce you could. You still do, and I love you that much too. Everything I do is for both of us, forever. You will always be my constant.
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