I remember when I was in the sixth grade and I went on my first field trip.
I cried and was so homesick and I just wanted to be with you again. What happened to those times? Where did the mom go that I knew then?
Things have obviously changed.
It started off slowly, like when you got a job. That was okay; you were doing what you needed to do to pull our family through a difficult time. But then you met someone new. You didn’t think we knew about him, but we did.
You started to work more. Were you really working? Maybe. I saw your phone though. I saw your text messages to him saying you wish you could just leave and go on a vacation. I saw your little messages saying you just wanted to fuck him. Yea… I saw it.
Then came the mistrust and the need to do everything for yourself. I would come to you with a problem simply looking for some advice, and instead you would pull out the heavy artillary and try to do everything for me. I’m a big girl mom, and adult now. I don’t need that. I need love.
Are you capable of giving that to me anymore? Where are you going? A few months ago you and dad sat me and the other two girls down, saying that you wanted a divorce. After I got over the shock (I guess shock isn’t the word… I knew it was coming) I was able to ask you a very difficult question: Do you still love Dad?
You told me that you don’t love him like you used to, but that you still care for him.
So here’s my question to you. Why haven’t you left? Are you playing with us? Why are you still here? Every once in a while a thought passes through my mind that I can’t help but be mad at myself for later: We might be better off without you.
You have a problem mom. Last weekend you asked J why she hadn’t ate her lunchmeat, and when she told you she ate some you weighed it.
You weighed it, Mom.
Does it matter?
I’m a psychology major Mom, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that you can’t help a person with their problem if they don’t see that they have one. You have one Mom. It’s called obsessive compulsive personality disorder.
I’ve wanted to ask you to get help forever, but I can’t bring myself to do it. You’ll be angry with me. Dad has wanted to ask you to get help, but he’s afraid too. Will you leave? It would break him. But what is happening because you’re still here? I think this is breaking him too.
No one can do any right in your eyes. Please get help mom. Please don’t leave us. Please stop seeing that guy, if you still are (which I think you are). I love you, but I think you’re hurting our family.