to my mom

I have legit been putting this off for months.

Today, I realized just how much it has been affecting me and knew it was time to write this letter.

I really don't know how I want to frame it, but I do want you to know that I love you and have some stuff to say.

Around Christmas, I learned about my childhood. I got to realize who I was as a child and just how I have carried that into my adulthood.

I always assumed that just because my childhood wasn't the worse, that it couldn't have been that bad.

But after giving attention to so many problems that I face that I've ignored and downplayed, I realized my childhood wasn't the greatest.

I thought about so many ways to present this and so many many MANY other excuses as to why I shouldn't.

I think I'm just going to present it with the perspective I have today because it's part of my current truth.

There were many things I needed, but didn't get from my parents. Many instances I felt like I wasn't important and would never be important. I believed that there was nothing in this world I could do but exist because that's all I had.

The first instance of conflict with my older sister was of her placing me under a pillow. Looking back now, she never really did stop doing that. Her strategy changed the older we got, but her endgame was the same. "Ignore her, look at me."

I would excel at something and she'd find a way to make sure it was minimized. I would fail at something and she'd find a way to let the world know.

The first resource I had in many of those instances was my dad. So I would go to him. Even after years of the same reaction from him, I would go to him and ask for help. I would be immediately denied help. He didn't want to be bothered, so much so I think the times he did step in, he overstepped out of pure frustration of his own responsibility as a father. His contributions never really amounted to much of anything outside of some dog and pony show. The only time I can remember him doing something nice for me was in front of others. But when it mattered most in the place I was supposed to be the safest, I felt abandoned.

The second resource, that he loved to push me towards, was you. The only thing was, you were either busy at work, tired from work, or preoccupied taking care of the other girls.

Knowing what I know now, of course this was the case. You had to really rally around yourself so our family could merely survive. You did what you had to do.

The ironic catch is, doing what you had to do caused you to miss a lot of moments where I needed you.

So I leaned into my third resource-- solitude. 

I couldn't get what I needed from those around me, so I closed myself off to those around me.

I stayed to myself where it was safe. I knew myself; I trusted myself. I knew I would keep me safe.

As a kid, and even as an adult, I love being swaddled by the darkness. Even though darkness is supposed to be this never-ending absolute void, for me it was home. In the light, you know where things began and end. In the darkness, you don't know. Not knowing was better for me.

 Every time I would step foot into the light, it burned. I would ask for help and be denied. I would wait on help and be rejected. I give my all and it be too much. I would try my best and it wasn't enough. There was nothing I could do for my own well-being in the light.

In fact, the light only seemed smile on me when I was making someone else happy. But the instant I felt safe standing in my own light, I always got burned. 

And this cycle continued for years on end.

That simple pattern is why I had a traumatic childhood. I was a kid and when I needed help the most, I was denied it by the adults I trusted the most. So I learned to take care of my own needs in the dark and take care of what others needed it in the light. 

I had to become my own resource. That's why my inner child is an adult.

I'm not sharing this to make you feel shame and hurt by my words. I was and am still very afraid about making you feel that way. I didn't even want to tell you any of this. I literally spent months coming up with a crapton of reasons why this was a terrible idea.

After much needed pressure by some of the people around me and my own stress, I came to the conclusion that this letter is meant to be more "care and share" than "blame and shame".

I want you to know that some of your actions caused me pain because I hope it will bring you peace.

I know that when I started therapy, you used to mention that all therapist on tv seem to blame their client's personal problems on the parents-- specifically the mom. 

That may be true but here's another truth: that's for everyone. Our parents and siblings are the first lessons we have in what a relationship should look like. Kids don't understand meaning; they understand perception.

So we all pick up on the nuances of our childhood based on what we think works best based on what we see and/or experience in our everyday lives.

So yes, that is the way therapy tends to swing because those relationships set the foundation for how we choose to live our lives. 

But when we discuss conflict in therapy, we also address intention.

"Do you believe it was this person's intention to hurt you?"

I don't believe it was ever your intention to hurt me. You did the very best with the knowledge you had to raise this family, support this family, all while trying to keep your own problems at bay.

Does it hurt me less? Not at all lol. 

But understanding why and knowing (and fully trusting) that you always had our best interest at heart is the peace I'm lucky enough to carry with the pain.

I'm still grateful to have you as a mom. A lot of my best qualities come from you.

Your grace and your fortitude have carried me a long way. And now, being able to see both of those things work together as you find your footing in this next phase of life reminds me that you aren't a malicious person.

You are, and have always been, using what you have learned to try and do the best for this family.

Even though it came with a little crap for me on the side, I'd like you to focus on how I look coming out on the other side.