I cannot express in words truly how much hatred I harbor for you. I also cannot express the amount of pain and suffering you have caused me. Through this letter, I will do my best to try. What do you think a good mother is? Does she hit her children? Always yell at them? Does she always fight with everyone? I guess you already know what I think, but you should come up with your own conclusions. Since I was born, all you ever did was fight with my dad. You always liked an audience; didn’t you always fighting in front of me. Maybe it was to brainwash me into believing your delusional stories about him. I don’t know. It certainly did make me believe that it was always my fault. You had to have a family meeting when you were pregnant to decide to keep me, didn’t you. You never told me that. You said that my dad was one who wanted to give me up for adoption, but he wasn’t. You all had to decide the fate of baby that you never even considered you couldn’t support. You never got a chance to grow up. Did you have to take it all your childish anger out on me?
Do you know what it is like to live with you? In that tiny ass condo. Everywhere you walk you either are stepping in on something that would primarily be considered a danger hazard or on your stuff. Cleaning was just moving everything around into new places because you refuse to get rid of things. It was ok in the beginning. I believed that it would get better because it was just you and me. You were there when my dad wasn’t. But you got worse after the first few years… I loved you because you were there so I ignored that fact that you treated me like shit. You would do nice things for me… so that you could hold onto it, use it against me and never let me forget. Did you really ever care?
On vacations all you would do is fight with everyone. I mean you always fought with everyone, but vacations were especially bad. I always felt like I had to defend you because I felt like you were my problem. The whole reason we even moved out was because of your insane temper. She was a good Grandmother. She “watched” (raised) me while you would go to work (parties) with your boyfriend. (He was more supportive than you ever were and he wasn’t even that involved in my life!). I guess It was good that we left though… I was already around all your fighting enough…
Then there was the day that Chris came. I hated him from the beginning. You were bad… but he made it 10x worse. He cheated on you. He left while you were in labor. He also was responsible for that night. You stay, I think, because you are desperate for more people to control. Looking back at that night, I can only think one thing. Why do I keep defending this you? I understand you were drunk and he had no right to treat you that way… but you provoked him. I honestly don’t feel sorry for you. I feel bad for my brother who was there, if you can’t remember. He will forever be forced to remember every atrocious word that his mother and his father have spoken to each other. You will force him to take a side, but he will never be able to. Or to decipher any truths from all the lies that you spewed against his father, that he loves. He will always be left to wonder what did I do wrong? You might try to tell him that it is not his fault, but he will never believe you. Don’t let him feel like me. Luckily he will probably never remember that night.
I sure as hell will. I know you can’t undo that night, but I still hate you for forcing me and my precious brother to suffer viewing your exchange of verbal abuse. I remembered that I hated you that night. All you did was lie there in a disgusting fashion, after you were always the one clawing and screaming at me. It was ironic to be honest with you. That feeling of hate and disgust became more and more frequent as years progressed. For myself. Every time you called me a brat. Or punched me for not listening. Or telling me to ignore you and my father fighting. Or forcing me to stay inside and not to worry when your drunk boyfriend tried to take my brother away when you were fighting. Did you ever really care about how your actions affected others? You made me not only hate you, but you made me hate myself. I blame you for making me suicidal. You instilled self hate in me. You always made me feel like I was your problem. You always made me feel like I was responsible for you and my father breaking up. You made me feel like I had to defend you, because you couldn’t, and I always failed. Failed because I was a child, but you are too. I wish you would have been able to grow up. To be the mother that I deserved. Leaving you allowed me to feel my own feelings and not have to constantly suppress them. That is why my true self hating nature came about. I also felt like I was just a subservient mini you and I hated it. So I wanted to die. You somehow managed to suck the color from life. You were like a tapeworm. You slowly killed me from the inside out. You made me believe that I needed you, by brainwashing me and digging your life sucking hooks into my soul. Removing you was painful, but I must have gotten used to you being there. Without you somehow fucking up my life, I just had to adjust. I began to have panic attacks and I became a suicidally depressed manic (me adjusting). Then I realized how stupid it was to mourn over the mother that I never had; the one I deserved (not you). Then all that was left was pure and untapped hatred. Hatred for you —and only you. So yeah, I believe leaving was the best decision I have ever made. Now I am here to remind you that you have no right to just burst into my life. I don’t care you think you are my mother. You are not caring or kind. You never cared about me. Don’t start pretending to now.