A Thank You Letter to My Abuser: This One’s for You, Mom.

Mom...

Wherever you may be,

Whoever you are now.

It’s taken a while (six and a half years if we’re counting), but I think I finally know what to say to you. I’ve started countless letters but could never finish them. I have an infinite amount of things I’d like to say, that I'd like you to know, but I think I’ll start by saying thank you.

Growing up being bruised, burned, and buried has shaped me into the person I am today, so for that, I am thankful. The path you led me down was not one I would have chosen for myself—or anyone for that matter—however, here we are. I’ve wanted to hate you for a long time now, and there were times where I truly thought I did... I remember the first (which was also the last) time I ever told you that I hated you, right after you threatened both of our lives—It was surprisingly hard for me to say it then, and it still is. The truth of the matter is that I don’t think I actually hate you. Besides the anger and sadness that canopies over my memories of you, I truly feel nothing for you. At times I still feel obligated to you, but I just remind myself that you are not a part of my life anymore.

Though your words were cruel, your actions were the most hurtful. I have the hardest time trying to forget them, let alone make sense of them. Your effortless hugs, your lifeless gaze and posture, your lonesome walk, your closed bedroom door, your selfish habits, your absence in the middle of most nights... it all lead to a broken heart and tortured mind. Though the road to recovery is a long one, believe me when I say that I will no longer allow myself to believe that I am broken, for that is you. Although you led me to believe I was the problem, the one in the way of your life, you need to know that it was never me. You were the source of the problem, the burden, someone in need of help. You somehow made me believe I was both the problem and solution—that I was the reason your life spiralled out of nowhere, but also the only person who could fix it... I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to forgive you for making me believe that it was me for all those years. You were supposed to be my safety net, my confidant, my mother. You were supposed to take care of me through love and devotion, but instead the reality is that I was treated like a household chore. Although you told me you loved me to infinity, a part of me never fully believed you. Love wasn’t supposed to hurt, and it wasn’t supposed to be forced. Just because your blood runs through my veins does not mean I owe you love... and just because you are my biological mother does not mean that we are family.

Though I tried to tell and show you all throughout my childhood, I don’t think you ever knew just how susceptible I was to the pain, and how frightened you made me feel. With every slammed door, every fight, every sleepless night... every hurtful comment, condescending remark, cold gaze, broken glass, and every tear shed... it truly took something from me. There are times when I wish it was bones that were broken and shattered instead, because at least then after healing I would be able to get out of bed. At times, you’ve made me terrified of the world, of living. Your abuse continuously renders me frozen, afraid. Although you’re not truly here, it’s as powerful as a hundred-foot brick wall. I’m tired of climbing over the barriers you’ve put up for me. I’m tired of jumping the fences, running until I’m numb, crying until I’m drained. I’m so tired mum, but I no longer have to ask for your permission to rest. Though my body hasn’t quite figured out yet that it no longer needs to fight and/or flight, I can confidently say that my mind is a bit ahead of the game.

I’ve been on the run for what feels like the entirety of my life, but I know there was a point some time ago where I was once at peace. Though I’m no longer running from your house, your embrace, or your life, I still run from our past together. I run from the memories that are branded into my mind... I run from the scent of your patchouli perfume, from your abusive and inappropriate relationship, from your perverted boyfriend, from the sound of your hurtful words and from his, from the public humiliation you forced upon me, from the graffiti you plastered all over town... I run from the past that, at times, still feels present. My life has been dedicated to fixing you, whether it be healing what you’ve done to me, or actually putting you back together. You took all my oxygen and energy in order to not feel your own pain. What you did to me and put me through was not fair, nor just. The things I saw, heard, and felt growing up is something I still can’t wrap my head around today. No child should have had to endure that kind of pain.

You were such a destructive and truly hurtful person, but what you don’t realize is that you didn’t have to be. You had a troubled past that you let consume your life. You never dealt with it, you only ever ran—and from the bottom of my heart, I make this promise not only to myself, but to you—I promise I will no longer do the same. Writing this letter is the first step to my new life, a one where I am not on the run. One day all that will be left of you is healed scars, something my future children will know nothing about. They will not be my punching bags, nor will they walk on eggshells around me. I will not scare them into respecting me, nor will I abuse their innocence. I promise to learn from your mistakes.

One of my biggest fears growing up was that I would adopt all of your bad qualities, simply because we were related. I may be half of you genetically, but I promise we are nothing alike. I am not the mini version of you, nor am I any version. I am a stronger, kinder, happier, more intelligent, more self-sufficient and more successful version of someone you wish you could be—and I owe some thanks to you. Someone very close to me helped me realize that I didn’t have to be strong, but that I chose to be. I got myself to where I am today, but in a way, so did you. You showed me how not to deal with conflict, how to not fight for relationships (and how to fight too hard for for the bad ones). How not to view the world, how not to deal with your feelings, how to hide behind drugs... How not to treat people, how not to raise a child, how not to live... you were a truly perfect example of all those things. So thank you for the lessons, for the life experiences, for they have lead me to determine the way I want my life not to be. As for how I want it to be, that is something you will never know. I will not give you the satisfaction of knowing how I turn out, knowing who I am and who I will become. Because although fighting your illness made me stronger in the end, it was ultimately my own strength that got me through it— and I’m strong enough now to tell you that you are not welcome back.

Lastly, I’d like to thank you for the scars, both physical and mental. I want to thank you for the strength you put towards raising me alone, even though you made that choice for me. Though you kept me separate from my brother, dad, and his side of the family, I would still like to thank you for giving me a version of a family, no matter how lonely it was. Thank you for the wonderful first eight years of my life, and for who you were back then. I wish that person could have stuck around a bit longer, but I understand that sometimes people’s own versions of themselves die for causes unknown, or in your case, because of never taking care of yourself. On that note, thank you for demonstrating what happens when you don’t take care of yourself, when you deny you need help. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to prove that when needed, I can save my own life, and I can fight for change. Thank you for giving me the chance to find my true family and for letting me live peacefully with them. Thank you for temporarily giving me a roof over my head, and for the times you truly put me first. Thank you for your hard work, even if it was for the evil in you. Thank you for giving me my sister, and for the opportunity to have met my best friend. Thank you for giving me the key to be where I am today. And thank you for bringing me into this world.

Yours truly,

Someone you once knew.