Thanks, mother.

Mother,

Thanks to all my trauma, I do not have many memories of my childhood. The ones I do have, are not great. I can't say you weren't a good mother then, I just genuinely do not remember. So I'll start off to where I do remember. Our first big move to the trailer near the school. I was in 7th grade. You expected us to wake you up in the morning with coffee, so you wouldn't be late for work. We had to get ourselves up, get dressed, and make sure we made it to our own busses on time to get to school. After school, we were on our own until you got home from wherever it is you were. We had to cook dinner ourselves most nights. Do you remember all the times you couldn't make it to your bedroom on your own? It was miraculous that you even made it home most of the time. I know you tried to be fun and have cool birthday parties for us, just to show our friends you were pretty awesome. However, that was about as far as the good things went in that house. You were rarely home. I don't even remember you bringing groceries very often. I'm glad the power and water stayed on to say the least. There was a summer you were gone for weeks. I got to stay home by myself, I stayed drunk half the time to pass the time. You wouldn't know though. The men you brought home, barely knowing them, while your kids were sleeping in their bedrooms. Who does that? Moving again to the big house with your POS boyfriend. That's when you really stopped caring about your job. That's where you hated H. Thought they were a problem child, but I can promise it all had to do with you and your habits. Your lack of empathy or caring for us in the least bit. At least we had food there. I finally was able to get a job, I walked most of the time. One of the few times you picked me up, you were drunk out of your mind and expected me to drive the stick shift home while you ate the food I bought for myself. Thanks for that. I remember the night you chased H down the stairs screaming at her, while she was just trying to get away from you to keep her peace. She hid in the closet as I packed a bag because I was ready to get kicked out. You busted in and tried pulling her out by her hair. Good on you, mother. I screamed at you telling you to leave her alone, and you told me to get the **** out of your house. Jokes on you, my bag was already packed. After that, you did not care what happened to me. I didn't much care for what happened to you either to be honest, but I felt awful for H and J for having to put up with your crap without me there to defend them. Life moved on, and I got with B. You eventually let us move in hearing that we were expecting your first grandchild. L moved in too, and we were there for a month before your ex got us kicked out. So you claimed anyway. Fast forward to you being constantly drunk, constantly starting fights, drinking away your pain. You pushed everyone away. You were mean, you talked crap without being provoked. I know you battled your own demons, as we all do, but you needed help. You knew that. We all did. I cut you off for a while, when you fully fell off the tracks. Dating awful men who beat you up, talked badly, and did unforgivable things to you. I feared for your life, I tried to help as much as I could. You wouldn't leave. I should've known there was no helping you until you genuinely wanted it. So I told you that. Until you got real help, and kept a job for more than two weeks, and bettered yourself (for yourself), that I would not be engaging in conversation, coming over, or bringing the grandchildren over. I blocked you on everything. You got a little better, so I gave it a shot only to find out that nothing had changed. It's a pattern anymore. You're so good at pretending like you want to change, like you're doing better. When in reality it's manipulation. The most recent case was when you sent me a million and one nasty messages about how I'm nothing, how I'm just like you, how one day my children will treat me the same way I've treated you. You also talked badly about my children, your grandchildren. That was unacceptable. However, like always, I took your crappy apology with a grain of salt. Once again, "mother," you have put us all in a bad place again. I am now an adult, all your children are. All I have to say to you, is after these 25 years of hell, I am done. I am done with your games, I am done with your manipulation, and your disgusting habit that you can't seem to break. You made me become an adult when I was still a child, you expect me to keep you in check. I am done being your parent, I am done trying to make sure you don't lose your house, I am done helping you in any and every way possible. You suck.

- The overly anxious and burnt out mess of a person you birthed and abused.

Thanks for nothing.