From Love to Hate. And Back Again

Dear Mum,

The love a mother has for their children is almost indescribable. It’s pure and unconditional. At least - it's supposed to be. A mother is supposed to be open with their affection and selfless when it comes to their children.

But you were not.

Growing up I felt like I was walking on eggshells, there were days I held my breath when you walked into the same room as me, my very existence became uncomfortable to say the least in your presence. No child is perfect, I certainly wasn't, and although you are entitled to your feelings of irritation and anger at my occasional shortcomings, somethings were just not right. The fact that, at the age of 7, I came to think that a mother holding a grudge against their child over minor issues for days on end was normal - was not right. The level of your anger at an un-ironed school shirt and the subsequent rantings that reduced me to tears, was not right.

I remember when I was in year 4, age 9, and I had a school play about sugar cane. I told you I had an important role to play in it and Grandma was over from Jamaica, so she was coming as well. I was so excited; I practiced my lines obsessively for weeks and even asked you for a pair of fake glasses for my costume. All that anticipation only to be dashed two days before my big night. Why? Because we had an argument, over something I can't recall - it was probably a small trivial matter. But like always, you made a volcano out of an anthill. Your reaction was too explosive to be a mountain, too damaging to my childhood mind and so memorable that it has an undeniable part in my trauma.

Just like that, the journey on the eggshell road began again but I had been taught from a very young age to leave my home life issues at home – what happens in the house stays in the house. That lesson embedded in my head and so I went to school the next day, carried on as normal so much so that nobody could tell that I dreaded home time. When the day of the performance came, I said my lines clearly just as I had practiced for weeks, smiled and acted as needed, acted – just like I had been doing the last few days. I pulled off an amazing performance if I do say so myself, because nobody could tell that my heart had broken the moment I looked out into the audience and didn’t see you in it. Dad and Grandma were there, smiling and cheering at the end, but where were you? You, who had already gotten the day off from work in advance, were at home, choosing to hold onto your anger against your 9-year-old instead of supporting her like any normal mum should have.

I could list other occasions where you made me feel like less than, like a “frozen child” as you would put it, and I admit there were times I rightfully incurred your wrath to its full extent. But this letter isn’t meant to shame you or blame you, its to show you the emotional journey we have taken. My childhood, despite your “episodes”, was ideal fore the most part and for that I am eternally grateful to you and dad and my big sister. There were times where you would shower me with affection or applauded me for something, usually academic related. What child doesn’t seek the validation of their parents? You always said, you’re not “ a mummy mummy” not a “Beverly Goldberg”, you’re not one to make cookies and smother their children with rose tinted glasses on. I was ok with that. Even though there were brief times where I wondered if you loved me, there was never a moment where I didn’t love you.

This letter is about the journey you might not have fully realized we were on to get to the healthy place we are at now in our relationship. If I really look back and think about it, our relationship to a permanent turn for the best when I turned 18. I was done with education, working two jobs by choice and had started to become a full-fledged adult. We began to have more adult conversations, about my aspirations, about work, about where I saw myself in 5 years and you know what? You gave me some great advice. I’m 22 years old now, I’ve acknowledged my trauma, my wrongdoings, my lack of awareness growing up and I’ve gotten to a place where I can genuinely say this.

I forgive you.

I know that many of the things you did that caused my trauma were in the heat of the moment, but many were not. Many were the actions of a petulant child in a grown ups body. Those are the actions you have yet to take accountability for. But that’s fine. I have worked on myself enough to be able to leave those things in the past now. I do admit there was a point in time where I resented your inability to see your wrongdoings. I have just simply come to terms with that, maybe you have things left unresolved too that have caused you to be that way. Whatever the case may be, I’m determined to not let that affect our relationship anymore.

So mum, thanks for being my mum. I love you. I’ve hated you. I’ve loved through that hate too and most importantly I respect and fully appreciate you.

Your youngest,

ME