I know what you did

Mom,

I know you thought I would never figure out how you mocked me and invalidated me only when Dad was not around. I know you intentionally destroyed my sensitive feelings just to feel better about yourself. I know how you confused and misled me about who I really am, so different than your dream of who I should be. How you wanted me to live my life and how I chose to live my life did not match up. You couldn't see that living my life my way would make me happy. Or maybe you knew it would make me happy, and you did everything you could to stop it.

I saw your smirk when I told you about my pain, especially the pain you caused. I saw you discredit other people behind their backs. I saw how I was more outspoken than you will ever have the courage to be, and how you were intimidated by it, then decided to use it for your own gain. I saw how you talked negatively about people who thought you were their friend. I saw how you were competitive with me when I was starting to discover my natural skills. I saw how you said and did things to get attention and sympathy, to manipulate situations in your favor. I saw how you took credit for the things I did.

I learned what you knew about love, and it wound up leading me right into the arms of one of the most abusive and manipulative people I have ever met. I learned what you knew about friendships, and it put me in some of the most toxic situations I’ve been in. I learned what you knew about family, and began confiding in people I shouldn’t have, yourself included. I learned how to earn and feel about material goods, finances, and money management from you by watching you manipulate people using money at every opportunity. I watched you do things requiring accountability, and then blame someone else for trying to manipulate you.

I’ve healed beyond recognition. I’ve learned that a mother should be a safe place to land and have unconditional love for all their children’s individuality and choices. I’ve learned how to navigate my feelings and stop arguments before the discussion elevates by being honest and vulnerable, and when it's safe to do so. I’ve learned that romantic relationships are supposed to be kind, loving, supportive, and understanding, not full of rage, hate, jealousy, and aggression. I’ve learned the difference between someone who means well, and someone who says they mean well.

I've learned most of what I’ve learned about mothering from my son. I'm sad you will never have the chance to get to know him. He's inexplicably amazing, and we are a solid mom-and-son team. He shows me something else to be proud of him for every day. He tells me he loves me with everything he does, and I return all of his requests for attention. He knows I'm safe and I will help him with whatever problem he has, to the best of my ability. He knows he can ask me anything and there will be no judgment in my answer, or my tone. I do not pressure him to perform, I just remind him that all we can offer is our best effort, and it is often a result of leaning into our passion. I'm teaching him the value of hard work, patience, and vulnerability. I'm also making sure he has a firm grip on setting boundaries and showing him how to assess situations and exit the ones lacking authenticity or when they do not serve his emotional needs.

You should be ashamed of yourself for taking advantage of me and all the kindness I was always willing to offer you in abundance. On so many levels, I continually sought you out for approval, just as my son seeks me out. You took it and ran with it, regularly confirming I am not worthy. I remember at one point you tried to put your issues back on me by accusing me of being a negligent daughter. You suggested I should know better, now being a mother. You’re right, I do know better, which is why you haven’t heard from me, until now.

Goodbye.