A Letter To My Mother That She Will Never Receive
Mom, I will never be like you and I don’t want to be. Part of me doesn’t blame you for how you raised me. There was no internet, no audiobooks and counselling wasn’t encouraged.
From what I do know of your childhood it wasn’t easy. You were only raised by your parents full-time until the age of six. Then in order to be able to go to school in the city, you had to live away from the family farm in Alberta. So, your parents, packed you up and sent you to a friend from school, where you lived and you came home in the summers. Once you went to high school you moved to Vancouver to do the same with your older sister. That must have been difficult.
I also think you were abused by your family as well. Why else would you allow me to be abused by my father and you even encouraged him to do so? I know it was the 70s, but a lot of people were discovering peace and love during that time and a new way of parenting.
You stuck to the old way of kids were to be seen, not heard and not allowed to have a voice or opinion. Obeying elders at all costs no matter how that effects their mental health.
If I bring up anything to you now that affected me as a child you claimed it didn’t happen, you don’t remember or ask why I was bringing it up because it happened so long ago.
Some things are so traumatizing that it doesn’t matter how long ago they occurred, until they are healed they fester like unhealed wounds. For example, I came across my report cards you saved and saw a white slip of paper from grade three when I was 8 placed inside it. The teacher wrote that she was worried because my work had slipped and it was unlike me. She wanted to have a conference with you.
I have no idea if you ever had the conference, but it reminded me that this was around the time my brother was molesting me in my R2D2 underoos and my bikini. I remember you coming home early saying that you forgot something and my brother was telling me to run back to my room and get dressed.
You went straight into my room, looked behind the door, saw them there and asked me why the clothes were thrown behind the door. I told you that I was wearing them for him. The rest of my room was spotless. You left the house. I don’t remember you ever speaking to me about it again. You never got me counselling, you never told me it wasn’t my fault. You never helped me.
My brother has treated me inappropriately since then. This has affected my entire life. I have never had a healthy relationship or sexual encounter. I think I might have, had you reacted appropriately.
You have tried to force us to be friends and have a relationship, but fail to notice that I am uncomfortable around him.
You chose him over me. You chose the perpetrator over the victim. When I asked you when I was in my early 20s about the incident you told me that he didn’t remember. This tells me you talked to him about it. You knew something was going on when I was 8 or you wouldn’t have walked in and immediately checked behind my door.
I once came to you when I was molested at a water park when I was 12 or 13 and you had taken myself and a few of my friends there. The only words you said was: Don’t tell your father. When I told my friends what happened, they were more sympathetic. Again you failed me as a mother. This taught me that things will happen to me and my parents will not be there for me and to remain silent.
I have been molested several times by strangers throughout the years and guess what I did? Nothing. It happened in public a few times and I said and did nothing. My therapist hit the nail on the head and said that the way you raised me was by showing me that by being silent maybe it will stop, so this became my approach in life. It made me the perfect victim.
I think you and dad should never have had me. I served no purpose in the family other than a scapegoat. I tried to be an entertainer and get laughs when I was little. I still do this a lot. But, having opinions wasn’t allowed. Dad would tell me that I should wait until I was an adult and then I would know what real problems were or he would give me something to cry about if I was upset.
Everyone used me to take their anger out on and I had to obey everyone. From eating what was on my plate to only watching one show, to doing what I was told. There was no curfew, everything was approved on by a case by case basis. There were so many secrets and lies. I couldn’t talk to my friends honestly, you would hang up the phone if I tried. I had to lie if I was going downtown, to you it was a scary place with monsters everywhere. We lied to my dad if I was going on a date. We lied to grandma if I had a cold, I couldn’t stay home and rest. I had to see her. You taught me that being a martyr was paramount. I am only learning now that it is ok to put myself first sometimes.
A few men, yes men, acted like they wanted to save me when I was a sweet and innocent teenager but I was terrified of their help. When a man tells you that he and his buddy want to drive you across the country in their car and they have a knife to protect you, you are rightfully frightened. I tried to get help on my own, but social services and free counsellors failed me. I silently screamed by becoming anorexic, my failing grades at grade 10, I even cut my veins at my inner elbows with glass from bottles in front of friends, but I just kept slipping through the cracks.
I ran away from home because a counsellor was going to tell you and dad about how I was suicidal and I knew you guys couldn’t handle that I was spilling secrets. So I ran, with my wallet and a few library books, in case you didn’t believe my lie and checked.
I ran because I couldn’t handle looking at my brother anymore knowing that I remembered what he did to me, the physical abuse I endured, the emotional abuse and neglect you all put me through. The sexual inappropriateness of not only my brother but dad too and how you just let it all happen. I ran because the unknown at 17 was better than the hell I was living under. I was slowly killing myself and running was a chance of keeping me alive.
When I ran away from home during grade 12, you lied to as many people as you could pretending that I still lived there. You also phoned the police on me thinking they would bring me back. Did you think that would work? If I did come home, I would have ran away to a different province. When you told the social worker that you would take me back when I tried to get underage welfare, did that bring me home? All you did was make me poorer instead of helping me financially. Did you know that the family friends I stayed with double dipped? They took money from you and my savings? Or were you happy to leave me broke? They didn’t need that much money to feed me, after all I was still anorexic at the time. Then you wouldn’t let me have my things for the longest time out of spite. How did you think that would help our relationship?
I was still a virgin until I was date raped at 17, despite all the things that happened to me. I didn’t even try pot until I was 25, my biggest vice was drinking and some skipping out of school but you treated me like I was a terrible kid.
I am still here at 47 and I have myself to thank and not you. People talk about forgiveness but I will never forgive you.
I have spent almost my whole life trying to find someone to take care of me and it took me this long to figure out that only I can take care of myself.
But, I didn’t become you. I also ended up in an abusive marriage, but I read books, listened to audiobooks, read articles, joined online communities, spoke to friends, went to counselling. I even joined a support group when my eldest was a challenging baby and it really helped me get some support and validation. I learned how to become a decent mom. I took advice and didn’t repeat your mistakes. I ended my abusive marriage.
When dad died, you changed history and turned him into a great husband and father. I am not going to burst your bubble, but I am not going to pretend he was a great guy. My last memory of him in the house I left, was dad threatening to kick me down the stairs and hit me for talking back, that is not a great father.
I ended the cycle that you continued.
I know that you have enmeshed yourself with my brother just as your mom did with my uncle. I know that you don’t understand why I have boundaries and barely communicate with you. I don’t need a confrontation or to try to work it out with you, because it never worked before.
This past year, you have decided to tell me through Facebook messages that you love me and I know it upsets you that I don’t say it back. You also say that I am a good person and don’t deserve what happened to me. Does that mean that if I was an angry person and not nice I would have deserved what I am going through? No one deserves to be abused.
I needed your protection and unconditional love when I was small child. I also needed your help. My life might have turned out differently if I had it then.
I will not send you this letter, I just needed to write it for myself. I will rise from this and I hope my children will have a better future than I do.
