Family
Dear Mom
I love you and I care about you, but I do not like you. In fact, I silently resent you. The pain in my heart, the suffering in my eyes and the death of my soul. All caused by you and the decisions you passed down onto me. You’re called mom and yet you are only one by default. The life I've lived and the mistakes I've endured that you’ve made. Your decisions cause me to make my own decisions that I do not want. The drugs and guys you’ve chosen to be in your life, trickle down onto me. The kids not biologically mine, but legally and emotionally. I feel so lonely and used. I do not feel like a daughter but like an ATM and a safe last choice. In a way I'm glad I took in the kids as it got me to where I am now, but the question lingers in my mind. Would I be happier? How would my life be? If it was just me. Would I have bought a house at age 20? Dropped out of college? Would I be as mature? I’m up and down on my seesaw of emotions. Sometimes I'm content with my life. Other times I resent everyone and everything. How could you decide that a little girl would be a great second mom to the kids you decided to have. Why were the drugs better for you then your kids? Why were all your horrible choices pushed onto me? Because “I'd make a great mom?” well maybe that’s because I raised your kids my whole life. Almost everyone in my life just uses me because I can’t say no to people. All I want for myself is to be happy and feel what freedom is. I want to be able to not have to worry about food at home for the kids. To hope people are ok with me bringing my siblings with me sometimes. I love them with all my heart and I would never let them be somewhere they don’t want to be or feel unsafe. I would never say no they can't be with me. But why me? Why was this all on me? I shouldn’t be the one that has to care and worry for them. I’m not much older than them and yet I act as their mother. And now their dad is in prison, which is a good thing for almost everyone. Who do they really have except me? The mental trauma they fight with everyday as they hope i won’t say “ I don’t want you anymore” just like everyone else. I want them to be happy and not worry if there's food or if they'll get screamed at. I don’t want them to live the way I did growing up. Watching their parents do drugs, seeing their mom get hit and abused and hoping you aren’t next. Watching your dad get drunk and beat up your papa, the only adult that truly raised you and treated you like a kid. People telling me my whole life they expect great things from me. Causing me to never feel like I'm doing good enough no matter what I do. I hate you silently mom, you took my life away from me. Yes it taught me things but is the knowing worth the suffering? Is it worth having to pay off the debt you put me in cause you stole my money? I know I'm supposed to cherish you, but how do you cherish the person that makes you hate your life? I’ll never show you this letter, I'm sure. Even though I love you, I hate you. I hate the women you’ve become and who you’ve made me into.
By Kristina Brule4 years ago in Confessions
I have nothing to wear
Dear Mom, I have nothing to wear. It’s pizza night at your house. Casual. Easy. I have nothing to wear. I put on jeans. The thick dark denim feels snug across my belly. I have a belly. It rolls and softly folds into itself. You always seemed so squeamish around bellies. When I was little, you talked about muffin tops and beer bellies. When you saw one, you’d click your tongue and your thin lips would get thinner. I used to not eat muffins or drink beer. A flat stomach was possibly my single most important goal for my entire twenties. Despite it all, I still have a belly. A sweet belly, a happy belly. A loud belly, an angry belly. A belly. I wiggle out of my denim. I have nothing to wear.
By Lisanne Binhammer4 years ago in Confessions
A letter to the woman beside my cradle
Dear Mother, Ever since the day I was able to gargle words to you, you’ve tried to understand me and the many things I wanted to say. Even though there'd be nights where we’d argue, and you’d sit in your room in silence. I still knew that after the storm cleared, you’d be in my room with me wrapped in your arms as we showered each other in affection and apologies. You’ve always been able to read me like a book, and pierce through my heart like a needle. But even I know not every needle can penetrate every surface. I feel like every child has a secret or two that they put under wraps for years to come. Like how they broke a lamp and blamed it on the cat, or how they threw away their report card and pretended it disappeared when asked about its whereabouts. But my secret isn’t quite as simple or as faint as that. The skeletons I have in my closet aren’t as normal as any other child’s. My closet goes deep and as you enter the darkness, it almost feels like the air gets thicker, and its hard to breathe. But I digress. When I was 8, you’d often be busy at work trying to support us as best you could. You were juggling that, being a nursing student, and trying to feed me and get me a sitter for the summer. Because your funds were understandably tight, you couldn’t afford $200 a week for a professional sitter. So instead, you looked to my absent father for a bit of assistance. I remember standing in the grocery store line, holding your hand as you choked back the tears from your eyes. I already knew that my father had said no to watching me, and I could tell it broke your heart into a million pieces. You never did like to let me see you cry, because you knew that it would make me worry about you. So, you just hung up the phone, wiped your eyes, and smiled at me like nothing had happened. I knew you wanted to drop to your knees and break down in the middle of that store, but you didn’t want to be seen as “weak.” So after about a week of trying to find a sitter, you got a call from my grandma. I was sitting on the floor in the room pretending to play with my toys, but I was secretly paying attention to your conversation. I couldn’t hear everything, but I did manage to hear the words “uncle,” and “sitter” and I was immediately on edge. My uncle had a very known reputation for being lazy, rude, and strict. So often when I was watched by him, it was as if I was just watching myself. Soon my fears were confirmed when you ran into my room ecstatic with “good news.” You told me I’d be spending my summer days at my grandma’s until you and she were off from work. I just nodded and gave a fake smile to make you happy, because I knew you were glad you thought I’d be in good care. Fast forward to the middle of June, and my days were filled with solitude in my grandmother’s room. Everyday I’d watch the same shows on repeat and would stuff my face with pop tarts, fruit snacks and chips. Yes, I hated being here, but I knew it would just stress you out further if I bothered you about it. So, I kept my mouth shut and just prayed the hours would pass so that I could finally see you again. But one day made me sure I never wanted to spend another moment with my uncle again. It was July 7th and he had just come back in the house from a quick smoke. I remember feeling especially irritated by him because I was getting impatient with him and his terrible care. So as soon as I heard the door slam open, I ran to confront him about it. Now remember, I was 8, I didn’t really put much thought into what I was saying but I knew that it was going to be something that would make him finally listen to me. “Hey!” I shouted to him from the stairs, he just rolled his eyes and said “what?” I took a deep breath and said, “You don’t take good care of me, you only sit down in your room, play video games, and cook for yourself. You never actually care for me.” Even though I knew the words were coming from my mouth with volume behind them, he just stood there and looked at me as if I was just shouting nonsense to him. This irritated me even further, so I yelled, and I quote, “IF YOU DON’T STOP BEING SUCH A BASTARD, I’LL GO TELL MY MOM ON YOU!” And just that fast, he was gone. No, he didn’t walk away. H e was charging toward me up the steps. My life almost flashed before my eyes as I ran toward the storage room that was to the left of his. But I was too slow. He had gotten a hold of my shirt and tossed me into the futon in the storage room. I remember the smell of his rancid breath brushing across my face as he held me by my ruffled-up collar. “Watch who the f**k you’re talking to,” are the only words he growled to me in a hushed whisper before the let go of my collar and stomped off to his room. I sat there for what felt like an eternity as my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. But the funny part is, even after all of that, I still never exactly told you why I never wanted to go back to grandmas. I guess I just didn’t think I should, or maybe he’d hurt me again. All you know is that I came to you saying I was tired of staying at her house because it was boring. And after a bit of pressure, you finally let me stop going there during the week. Yeah, you were annoyed with me, but I knew if I told you what really happened you would’ve blamed yourself. And that would’ve hurt me more than his fist or the back of his hand. Luckily, I never did have to worry about interacting with him so closely again. And when I did, it was quick, awkward, and silent. Now that I’ve wrestled that skeleton out of my closet, I feel like I can finally breathe again. Don’t sit here and blame yourself either, I chose to make this my secret, and that will never be your fault.
By M4 years ago in Confessions
Epilogue
Confessions have never come easily to anyone in our family. We seem to talk a lot without saying very much at all. The discomfort of truth-telling is avoided at all costs, and there are quite a lot of uncomfortable truths strewn across the debris of our lives.
By Kate McGovern4 years ago in Confessions
All the things you haven't seen
Hey mom. I never told you this before, but I probably will never be able to forgive myself for failing to love you when you most needed it. While you gave me life, I was in turn watching yours breaking at the seams without knowing what to do.
By The Jealous Girlfriend4 years ago in Confessions
Dear Mama
Dear Mama, We have a different type of bond and this might sound weird but sometimes I think I like it. I’ve never told you this but most times it feels more like you're the little big sister I will never have. I’m so tickled typing this because our relationship has always been up and down. I can see you now rolling your eyes at me while looking over your glasses if you were actually reading this. I thought it would be healthy and amusing to write you a letter like I used to when I was a kid and would slide it under your door.
By Beauty4 years ago in Confessions
Infrangible Bond
The bond between a mother and her child is indestructible, a force like no other. A mother's goal in life is to nurture, guide, and give to her children what she did not have so that her children will live long and happy lives. And we know this because Mother Nature offers us delicious and healthy food, refreshing water, and trees that purify our air to breathe. That is why mothers spend countless hours preparing the delicious and healthy food we eat at home after long enduring days of school. Or the refreshing drinks she prepares for us after pretending to be famed adventurers in the Congos, on a hot summer day. Or how she spends hours disinfecting the bathroom floor to prevent fungus from growing so we have a clean lung. It is no mystery as to why a mother will go out of her way to do everything possible to make sure that we are back home safely at the end of the day, for the same reason that Momma Bear will go berserk on anyone imposing a threat to her cubs. But when the sun sets and the moon arise did she ever hear a thank you? Did she ever hear a thank you for waking up at six am to make sure there was lunch for us for school? Because to us it was all routine and expected and taken for granted. But as time passed, we grew and we learned that being a mother isn't as easy as it was expected like how you were there for us when we were feeling down but we never really knew if you were feeling upset about something. All our life you've been teaching us to do good and to bring kindness to others. And I know I will be beyond devastated and it hurts to think such thoughts and can only wish to prevent the day you leave this Earth. Because you are the greatest mother that can ever exist and I cannot express how thankful I am. For ages, you've told us that we don't keep secrets in this family and thus I have failed you for I have kept several secrets but I fear what your reaction to them will be, but now is the time. Since my earliest memory, I have always felt that I have been more feminine than most boys. Naturally, I have also felt gravitated toward female-targeted toys such as the Peppa Pig doll house I asked for Christmas a long time ago, or the pink Nintendo switch case that I wanted to buy with my birthday money. Perhaps my biggest confession is that I have secretly been buying skirts and women's clothing. My only request is that you take this well and I hope that you can support me, if you have yet to put the links together, yes, I am indeed transgender and there's nothing more I want than for you to see me like you my sister, to call her over whenever you find a cute purse, or how you always pick out the feminine accessories for her, but I shall not let that bring me down because I know that at the end of the day you still care for me equally as much as you do for her. I feel it is necessary to explain that behind your back I have been living a double life and even though you hate secrets I chose to keep them for years. There's nothing more that I would like to say than after everything you've done for me if you can if I can ask for you to address me as Isabelle and to accept me as your youngest daughter and after everything you've done for us, I hope you can continue loving me as you do now because the bond between the mother and her child is unbreakable. I love you with all my heart, you are the best mother one can ask for.
By Isabelle Bee4 years ago in Confessions
