A letter to my mother.....

I'm going to just say this right up front...this post is going to sound angry and hurt and I realize my mother is never actually going to read it, but there are some things I want to say, just to have them said....with that note....

Dear Mother,

When I think about my childhood I look at the few precious good memories I have and it makes me sad. It makes me sad that I was not given the chance that every child should have, the chance to have a loving, lasting realationship with his/her parents. It makes me sad that the bad memories far outweigh the good.

I remember going to a movies with you as a child. Star Wars, Dragonslayer, The Fox and the Hound....I loved going to the movies. I remember you taking me to the library, sitting in the egg shaped chair in the main library reading with you. I remember the time in the fourth grade when you yelled at my teacher because she accused me of having you write my book report, you told her that I was smarter than most of the kids in the class and that I was MORE than capable of writing book reports on books that even she wouldn't understand.

I also remember sitting in my room, tears running down my face, my back stinging from the blows you had rained down on me. I remember you telling me I was worthless. That I was a liar. That I was lazy. I remember you telling me that you didn't want to talk to me unless I could talk to you like an adult. I remember you brushing me off, because you had more important things to do than spend time with me. I remember you red faced and screaming, telling me that I had ruined your life. All before I turned ten.

There are other memories of that time, each more painful than the last, but nothing as lasting as the feeling of hurt and shame that my mother would do those things to me.

I remember leaving your house when I was still a teenager and trying to make a go of it alone. I remember graduation. You told me that I could have you present at a major life event, or you and Dad could send me money so I could get an apartment. What kind of choice was that? And I remember the day I had to call you and tell you I was pregnant. I was looking for love and support. Instead you yelled at me, accused me of not caring about you, telling me you couldn't believe you had to tell your friends I was pregnant, and then telling me if I kept the child I would get no help from you. Fast forward nine months, after I had made the agonizing decision to place my first child for adoption, alone. You sent me a letter telling me that for the first time in my life, you were proud of me. Did you even read that before you sent it? Did you honestly think that it would make me feel good to say something like that?

Then five years later, my sister gets pregnant, at the age of sixteen, and you take her into the warmth of family. Help her get through the pregnancy, take care of the baby so she can finish school. What the hell? I hated you for that.

I get married. I pay for the wedding. You tell me that at least I can do that right. Then when he starts having affairs, plural, and caps it off by driving drunk with my daughter and I kick him to the curb, you tell me you knew I would be a failure at that, just like I was for everything else in my life.

You're a bitch.

The list just goes on and on and on. And for some reason, I kept trying to repair the relationship. I didn't want to believe that you could be so intentionally cruel. Then I moved to Utah and met someone, and decided to have another child. When I called to tell you I was having a baby, were you excited? No, the first thing you say to me is:" Is this one going to be legitamte?" Who the fuck do you think you are? My daughter was born AFTER I had been married. It was my sister, not me that made a habit of having babies without dads...and yet you seem to have no problem with her kids.

The one thing I have to thank you for is the fact that because of you, because of how I felt as I grew up..I am a better parent. I love my children. There is never anything more important than they are. I tell them how special they are. I praise them. I never hit them. My children will grow up healthy and whole and will never end up on Oprah cursing my name for the way I failed them.

The way you failed me.

You tell me I'm not successful. I disagree. Everything I am today I am responsible for. I could sit and whine to anyone that listens that you were horrible and you ruined my life. Instead I chose to show the world that I am a postive, energetic, intelligent woman. I use my talents to make the lives of those around me better. I am more successful than you will ever know.

I think I pity you. You are a shallow, hollow person that thinks the world owes you something. You can never find peace that way and I feel sorry for that. I feel sorry for you.