Dear Mom,
I’m 49 today and you’re on my mind. I wish things could be different, but I’ve been turning things over in my mind and I’m not sure how to change things. You’ve never learned to take personal responsibility for your actions and it’s impossible to have an adult conversation with you without you getting passive aggressive and pulling the “I’m your mother card.” Yes, you are my mother and you and daddy provided for me, make sure I was fed and clothed, and made sure that I knew that I didn’t matter.
I can hear you protesting that now as clearly as if you were in the room with me. You’re telling me of course I mattered and that you supported me to the best of your ability. I do believe you supported me to the best of your ability, but I also believe that you were so codependent that you didn’t understand the damage you were doing. I’m going to lay it out as clearly as I can so you understand why we no longer have a relationship. I’m not saying any of these things to hurt you and, to be honest, the likelihood that you will stumble upon this in cyberspace is slim. However, my other motivation in putting this out in cyberspace is so that other parents can think about how they inadvertently hurt their children. The easiest way to do this is to go through lesson by lesson the bullshit lessons you taught me:
Respect Authority No Matter What
Mom, I believe your picture is by the word co dependence in the dictionary because you exemplified codependent behavior and I learned early that no matter how much someone hurt you, you should keep going back for more because they are your parent, your husband, etc.
Grandmother was a psychotic bitch, there I said it, but instead of cutting her out of your life. You kept going back for more. She gave your wedding presents to your abusive brother because he got married at the same time, but you kept answering her calls and running to her rescue. I will never forget the time that you went over there to have a conversation and were talking to her and she totally ignored you and acted as if you didn’t exist. But the next time she needed help, you went running.
Based on that example, I stayed in an abusive marriage way longer than I should have. I saw you going back for more and more abuse and I though that is what you did when you loved someone, you let them abuse you while you continued to give and give and give.
The lesson I’ve learned since and that I’ve instilled in my children is that positions of authority do not automatically deserve respect. If someone isn’t treating me with respect, they are not worth of my respect and I will cut them out of my life no matter who they are.
Appearances Mattered More than Feelings
One of the biggest lessons you taught me was that it was all about keeping up appearances. It didn’t matter if I was devastated inside, all that mattered was that things looked perfect on the outside. I started drinking too much in college and, realizing that I had a problem, I went to AA to get help. When I called you to tell you, you called me a “drunken slut who tried to kill herself.” It didn’t matter that I was in AA so I could quit drinking or that I was a virgin at the time, for you it was all about appearances. In retrospect, I realize that your reaction was so harsh because your family was full of alcoholics, but at the time I needed support and you were incapable of providing it.
You did the same thing to me when John and I separated. Instead of caring about how I felt, you first asked about how the kids were, then said in an accusatory voice, “There’s not going to be a divorce is there?” That was pretty much the final straw for me as it was then I realized that I was never going to get support from you as you were always going to make it about appearances.
It was only spending a lot of time with my bestest bud that helped me to realize that I did matter and that my pain mattered. He listened to me, encouraged me, and was there for me in a way that you never were.
Everyone Else Mattered More than Me
Time and time again when I was growing up you encouraged me to put other people’s needs ahead of my own and that continued into adulthood. When I called you to tell you I was going on a writer’s retreat, you asked how John felt about watching the kids. When I called to tell you I was going to a computer class, you asked why he wasn’t going. Everything I did was supposed to be about my kids, my husband, anyone but me. Time and time again you expected me to sacrifice for others.
When John and I distanced ourselves from his mother because she abused our kids, you took it upon yourself to share personal information and pictures with her. When I called you on it, you said she was their grandmother and she had a right to know. However, as our kids parents, you didn’t think we had the right to control who had information about our children.
The lesson I learned from this is that I DO MATTER and the funny thing is that when I take time for myself I have way more capacity to give to others. If I am constantly giving to other people, there’s nothing left for me. I call it the vulture syndrome and when I start feeling as if vultures are feeding off me, I know it’s time to take a step back and take care of myself.
I Lack the Ability to Make Good Decisions
You questioned every decision I made as an adult in a condescending tone that made it clear you knew more than me. You questioned my decision to take a job working for the Air Force, you questioned my decision to live with my husband before getting married, you even questioned where I placed the pictures on my wall.
After I graduated from college and chose to live with John instead of getting married, you shamed me and harassed me until we agreed to get married. Deep in my heart I knew it wasn’t the right choice, but you applied such pressure that we got married anyway. I should have stood up to you, but I’d been so beaten down with your shame and guilt that I was incapable of making the right decision for me.
When we bought our first house, the first thing you did when you walked in the door was to start criticizing my decorating. Would you have done that to a friend? Or was it just because I was your child that you felt you had that right.
It was only when you started doing the same thing to my children that I realized that your innocent questions were actually methods of shame and degradation. I will never forget calling to tell you that Sean had planned and funded a trip to Washington, D.C. all by himself and instead of being proud of him, you questioned how he could afford it, even though that was none of your business.
It took me a few years to stop listening to your voice in my head and when I started to hear you in my head with all your doubt provoking questions, I learned to stop and say “F* you. You don’t get a say in what I’m doing.” Now I’m at the point I can laugh about it as I think about the questions you would ask about my new house, but it took me quite a while to learn to trust my own judgement.
My Life is Fodder for Gossip
Growing up in a family where secrets were currency, I shouldn’t have been surprised that you shared my personal business with everyone else. However, I was surprised when after I hadn’t talked to you for three years, you chose to share private information with people. I found out when they Facebook messaged me asking to reconnect. Hmm, if I’d have wanted to connect with them, I could have.
To this day, I’m not sure if you shared the information so it looked as if you were still in contact with me or what, but I do know that that was the final straw for me and was the moment I realized you would never change.
I’ve always been a discreet person who doesn’t share my business with just anyone, but this experience taught me to pay closer attention to what I say about people because I don’t every want to be known as a gossip.
Wrap Up
I did learn important lessons from you as I have good manners, I take care of my money, and I value my family, but I truly wish that I had a mother I could turn to when times were tough who would love me unconditionally and make me feel like I mattered. I reached out to you after we’d been estranged for a few years and was hoping we could have limited contact, but I realized when I got your letter back that that wasn’t going to be possible.
I’m sorry that you’re hurt, but I’m not sorry that I’ve distanced myself from you because it was the best decision I’ve ever made and while it has taken me a while to unlearn the lessons you unwittingly taught me, I’m a stronger person than I’ve ever been and I’m actually happy to be me.
I do love you Mom, but I can’t be in your life.
Blessings,
Raine
Cairn by Cairn 