Dear Mom

Mom,

I’m terrified.

Your breast cancer diagnosis has taken the air out of my lungs. Hot tears hug my eyes all day, waiting for me to burst into a puddle of despair. My chest is tight and full of static. I’m scared to lose you, but even worse, I’m terrified to see you go through this.

I’m terrified because I can’t help. Your treatment will leave you tired and sick, feeling weak and at times, defeated. My strong, brave mother. I’m so scared to see you hit a low I’ve never seen you in.

Stage 4 cancer doesn’t care that you are the best mom any kid could dream of. It doesn’t care that I need you, even at 27 years old. It doesn’t care that all of my friends, my brothers’ friends, consider you a second mom.

I’m emotionally fragile, anyone who knows me can see that. But you have always embraced me as I am and my imperfect imbalance. You let me grow and express my anger. You have always been patient and loving as I learned (and still learn) who I am and what I’m meant to do in this world.

I can go to you about anything; from complaining that my dog threw up in my bed, to moving back home when my marriage ended.

We celebrate everything; from me going back to therapy and finally finding the right medications, to you finding the perfect can opener.

I know I can always count on you to pick up the phone and listen to anything I have to say. I know I can show up unannounced and you will welcome me with a smile.

I’m only as strong as I am because I have watched you be strong. I’m only as funny as I am because I grew up listening to your jokes and laughter. I’m only as kind and caring as I am because you have always radiated kindness and care in everything you do. Nearly everything good that I am, I have learned from you.

I’m also guilty.

I feel so much guilt mom.

I wake up so often, wishing I didn’t. I spend so much of my time fighting my own mind, trying to quiet the noise that tells me I want to die. I cry myself to sleep so many nights knowing I can’t do it because my heart is telling me I need to stay for you.

I’m guilty of wanting to die, while you are fighting to stay alive.

You are a bright, dazzling example of someone who lives life with the intention to leave the world a better place. Anyone who meets you feels warmth in their heart. Forever a genuine, loving woman who wants to help everyone you can. I fear I will lose you, and I can’t stop wishing I could trade my life for yours.

I’m conflicted and angry.

How can I dream of dying, when I fear you might?

You have helped me in trying to understand my depression. You have supported me in my journey to find a therapist, talk to a psychiatrist, and try medications to help tame my own mind. We shared a scared relief learning I may have Borderline Personality Disorder, finally giving a name to the emptiness I feel inside. You have always been there to help. Now, I feel like I am failing you.

I wrote this letter to confess these things. I feel terrified, guilty, and undeserving.

Anything else in the world I know I could come to you and say, but this feels so impossible to admit.

I promise I will start living my life like you do. I will try my best to see the positive side of life, even when my brain is screaming there’s only darkness.

I love you mom. We will get through this.

Love,

Ember