How do I tell you what a disappointment you are to me. How much of a letdown you are in your lack of understanding of what you helped make.
All the years of passive neglect and active abuse left it’s mark on me, forcing me to become the beautiful person I am today. It helped to show me what I didn’t want to become, what I chose not to be once my own therapy started. For years after I left you, I acted like you, talked like you, thought and reasoned like you, and it was all flawed.
But please don’t think I’m singling you out. You’re not alone in this neglect and abuse. From the neighborhood boys who would use me as their sex toy, to your very own husband taking me into his bed, it taught me what perverted love was. You only know about him, and not the others, and it would break your heart to pieces if you knew the truth of it all.
I have, in a sense, given up on you, just as you gave up on me all those years ago when I needed your love and guidance most in my life. You refuse to try to understand this new “mental illness” that you pretend I don’t have. My bi-polar is not a contagious disease, it’s something you helped to make in me. So by your denial of me, denies your ability to make such a monster in me.
That’s ok. I love you anyways. You gave birth to me, clothed me, bathed me, fed me, and abused me. You are after all my Mother, and I’ll only ever have one of those.