Family
The Storm
Dear Mother, I was given the task of writing a letter and to confess something to you that I have never confessed before. I thought long and hard before beginning this letter, in fact I almost opted out of this challenge. I read the entries from the previous years with envy and admiration. Then last night I dreamt that I was caught in a storm. I while I cannot remember the dream vividly, I do remember that I locked all my doors prior to going to bed. After I got into bed there was a knock on my front door. I ignored the knock by pretending to be fast asleep. A few minutes later there was a loud roaring boom outside, and a thunderstorm had erupted. I cried out for my you. Minutes later dad appeared and attempted to guide me from my house to yours. We both had taken this route numerous times in the past yet this time we found ourselves lost.
By Roslin Kae Scott4 years ago in Confessions
My Mother's Day Confession
Dear Mom, One of the things I struggled to understand when I was younger was why you wanted me. I guess I never understood how you and Papa, such different people who have such different opinions, would think that it was a good idea to have a child. I thought this for several reasons. First of all, we both know you have trauma, and though years of therapy has definitely helped you sort some of it out, you were aware that you would pass some of it on to me (hence the child therapy fund). I thought that it was terrible to bring a child into the world when you were consciously aware that you would hurt me and pass on trauma. Another reason (and perhaps a less dark one) was that I remember watching birthing videos in tenth grade biology class. These videos, in which children come out screaming and covered in blood and the mothers are torn from the vaginal opening to the anus because the child’s head won’t pass, may have traumatized me just a little bit and helped fix my resolution that having children was simply a bad idea. My third reason was mostly caused by the fact that I am an overthinker. I couldn’t help but look at the problem from an existential point of view. Why would you give birth to a child who would live, suffer, try and find happiness (perhaps successfully, perhaps not), and eventually die and fade to dust, leaving nothing behind. How could YOU live with yourself knowing that I would face so much pain in my life; watching grandparents, parents and friends die, experiencing heartbreak and trauma, and unable to definitively expect a happy ending after all my struggles.
By Nadege Oger4 years ago in Confessions
Grandmother
To my grandmother who is gone, When I look back on the last few years with you gone, without you in the world, I am sad because I will not see you again, sad because of all the things I will never get to say to you. About the stories I can never ask you to tell me. When I heard about the cancer I was numb and raw. I didn’t know what it would mean. I was scared because I didn’t know what living in a world without you would entail. I can be honest and say it’s not as nice without you in it.
By Chantae Harding4 years ago in Confessions
On Letting Go
Mom, I wish we could be close, but I’m tired. I can’t take responsibility for your pain anymore. I’m sorry you grew up in a time where marriage to a man dictated your worth, but you chose a broken, abusive person to love. Instead of believing who he told you he really was, you dreamed up a fantasy and lived inside of it, never accepting the facts.
By Andrea Standby4 years ago in Confessions
Dear Mum....
Dear Mum, I don't want to tell you anything, When I was 10 yourself and dad sat us, me and my older brother, down in his bedroom, he was watching a movie at the time, I can't recall what one, that detail doesn't matter, but I wish I did. Wish I had just been asked to watch a movie with my family. On this day my life change in a spiral for the next 3 years, you had tears in your eyes, dad looked guilty, I knew something was wrong, I knew for a while, I just didn't want to believe, you never do when your 10, you spoke first...
By Brooke C4 years ago in Confessions
Letter from an Emotionally Neglected Daughter on Mothers' Day
Letter from an Emotionally Neglected Daughter on Mothers' Day Hi, Ma. I hope you are doing well, but I know if I ask, you will give me a litany of ailments and stories of perceived hostile acts of grievances towards you. I will ask anyway, disassociating while you talk, a protective habit that I developed while still in diapers. I interject little “mmmhmmms” here and there, but even if I did not, you would continue talking anyway. You don’t really need me there. Just an ear as a prop that makes you think someone is listening. That ear can be attached to anyone and anything: me, my brothers, the dog. Hell, it could be unattached. Even better. A sentient ear with no mouth to give you feedback or criticism. Only words of worship and praise for you, while your criticism is unleashed on anyone and anything within your orbit: your children, your sisters, your brother, your friends, strangers on television, whomever.
By Kai Wilson4 years ago in Confessions
Dear Mother
Hi Mom I know its been a year since you left us, and that your in a better place now free from all the pain and suffering that your life endured. I know the odds were stacked against you raising Allie and me all alone, coping with your physical and mental disabilities, and dealing with the sad fact that the rest of our family considered you a black sheep because of circumstances out of your control.
By Wolf_of_ Frost4 years ago in Confessions
I Hated You
Mother Mom, I never knew you. I never got the chance. I hid it from dad but for the longest time I hated you. I hated you so much. You brought me into this world and then you left, just like that. Did I mean nothing to you? Did my existence cause you that much pain? Was I that horrible?
By Emilie Turner4 years ago in Confessions
It Is Unavoidable
Hey Mom. I have never told you this before, but for me, it is unavoidable to stop thinking that I only have about 25 years left to enjoy your presence, your calls, and your messages of encouragement. It's already been 32 years since I came into this world. It is impossible that I stop thinking about it. And I want to tell you the following… I still remember that day, as if it were today. It was a Friday. Where you and dad went for a weekend retreat, away from the church we've all been going to since we were kids. I did not remember that you had left, and well, I thought you were at home.
By Greighton Rivera4 years ago in Confessions
