Three things to say; Rhetorical Questions to follow

Mother:

(verb)

To bring up (a child) with care and affection.

Dated:

To give birth to.

To the woman who delivered me, perhaps you carried me in your womb for nine months. That is the only courtesy that you have given me in truth. I confess, you had me fooled; I believed that the stories you would read to me, the times we would spend together were precious. However, as I have grown, I have learned that they were merely a means to an end. You are the only one who doesn’t know this confession, it’s the world’s worst kept secret.

I don’t have a new name for you in my memoir yet, the trauma you have given me is fitting to the acronym that your true name holds. You truly are a rat, a cunning snake that destroyed my person. Thanks to you I have grown strong, I confess. After all, I learned that I am bad at dying, that I can bend and break and put myself together. Thanks to you, I’ve learned that human relationships are fragile and people you can trust should be limited. You’ve skewed my views on the world, caused my rose lenses to shatter, pretty sure I’ve got shards in my eyes.

You have my thanks mommy dearest, all those false friends who used me to get grandpa’s money and toys he got me, they fell away because of you. Didn’t know that I couldn’t join clubs because of you. You stole from my girl scout troupe, caused discord in my extended day programs, even almost got me kicked out of band. You stuffed me full of snacks late at night to make me your closest friend, being young of course I didn’t realize that you were ‘buying me’ or subtly making me fear my father. That didn’t work well now did it?

The only thing you’ve succeeded in is breeding trauma in my soul, strengthening my body and wrecking my mind. My memory is still something I hold pride in, but how sad is it? You’ve cost me my childhood you know? Not even a year after I was raped thanks to your negligence, you kidnapped me. Dragged me out of school, on a day you forced me to go in my instability. From my school into a car of a stranger I never met, your brother scared me, and yet I had no choice. Sitting curled up locked in the back of a sports car with a yellow jacket bee, do you know how horrifying that was. That was the first time you left me, in the parking lot of the condo. I couldn’t go inside you wouldn’t let me, and he was too scary to ignore.

From then I was dragged an hour away to a family I had never met, your mother and sister. Neither friendly, neither loving, and two brothers both who tried to kill me before they were double-digit in age. Did you hate me that much mother? Why did you not leave me behind then? You could have just taken then things you wanted. You sold the games I loved, the AC I needed to breath in the heat, you pawned off my jewelry and lied to my face.

I was alone, I was lost, you took away my phone. I couldn’t call grandma, grandpa or my dad. I couldn’t talk to my friends. I was in a new place and I broke.

I wanted to ask so many things, but I doubt you’ll ever tell me. So I’ll just ask here in rhetoric. What am I to you mum? Was it that fun to ruin me? Did you want to see someone just as screwed up as you? What did my dad or grandparents do that you had to hurt us all this way? Why did you use the pills to try to do me in? Was it fun to kill off my pets one by one and watch me break down bit by bit? Was it a thrill to steal from my girl scout troupe? Or bring me to bars as a kid? Did you get off on the misery you caused? Do you think I’d cave if you cried because I told you my piece? Was it satisfying to send me a card saying ‘I must be happy’ that your pet died? Do you know how much you ruined? Did you know the boy downstairs was having his way with me, did you choose to ignore it? Was my life a game to you? Well you lost if it was.

I have so many things I would say to you. So many things I’ll never know the answer to, as I sit here the tears I didn’t know could still fall are burning my eyes. My heart that turned to stone all those years ago is cracking a little bit more remembering the abuses, my old scars are aching. Where to start?

I have so many words I could write a book just to you, but I won’t. You see, the biggest gratification will be when you one day find this. I forgave you, you know? Despite everything, despite you ruining everything. I lost my uncle this week, I guess I used to be close to him, and he came over all the time. You know what mom? Thanks to you I don’t remember a thing about him, hell I can’t remember nearly anything about the family I had before the kidnapping. Thankfully I can remember the things you’ve done enough to document, your flames will lead to change. The things you’ve done may have wrecked me will spare other poor souls. So thanks, my tragedy will be someone else’s saving grace.

My next confession is: you are nothing to me anymore. I don’t need the toxicity anymore. I was your daughter. Not a game for you to play. Not a therapist for you to vent to; I don’t care that your mom and you were on the outs. Or that my half-siblings that have no relation to me got a restraining order on you. I’m not a bank for you to grovel for money. You’ve taken enough of that haven’t you? Draining my savings account, my college fund, anything you could get your hands on. I don’t need you in my life, you were not invited to my graduation, you won’t see me published. You won’t be invited to my stage-shows, I won’t share my life with you. I don’t need the cyanide lingering behind me.

I confess each cut, break and bruise you left me with have healed. I learned how to talk my way out of being asylumized. I learned to walk on a fracture. How to smile while being beaten and bruised. I learned to hold my tongue, because you taught me even the truth could be a lie. You taught me that doctors could be bought, and that children have no rights. You taught me that a human can function on naps and survive starvation by drinking liquids. You taught me what prison would be like, not being allowed to lock a door, always needing permission to do anything. You taught me that tears can earn you a beating instead of a hug. You taught me that love is expensive and not everyone earns it, you taught me that mistakes should be erased whenever possible.

Is that why you tried so hard to erase me?

But you know what mom? I’m still here. I have to confess my life isn’t perfect right now. I don’t have a room with a door to close anymore. I don’t have time to myself, or a college degree. But I have a dad and grandma I love to pieces. I have friends who would fight for me even when I’ve given up, they will pull me back. I have enough role-models and motherly figures I don’t miss you anymore. I have supervisors and managers who have taught me more than you ever tried. I have places I can fit in, I have ways to share the writing you always destroyed. You know what ma’am? I’m glad I don’t have a fixed roof anymore, that means you can’t find me. You won’t be able to come to my door and harass me anymore.

I truly am stronger than I was before. But to this day I can’t eat oatmeal, I gag a bit by smelling some burgers. I flinch away from people who are angry. I haven’t been able to see a therapist thanks to how you’ve beaten me down. I don’t trust doctors or lawyers. I can’t sit in a white room, and I always have to lock a door behind me. To this day I count the amount of messages I send out, and if I’ve ‘bothered’ someone too much I shut down. To this day I give up more easily on the things I love and I don’t take pride in things I love. It took me so long to even trust my fashion sense, since you ruined even that.

You know? The thing that hurts the worst? It’s not that you told me I was a mistake, or that you never wanted me. It’s not the kidnapping or the unanswered questions. It’s not that you slaughtered my pets, or even you tried to end my future. It’s that you stole my tears, my past and damned my heart.

Grandpa. My closest family, my teddy bear, the one I can’t believe to this day eight years later is gone. You stole my ability to cry. I didn’t get to mourn him, thanks to you that looms over me even now. That closure I might never get.

I confess to you that I was angry, I hated you. Each time I tried to take my life, each gash I inflicted on myself I had some small hope that you’d feel guilty. Then I realized if you tried to have me killed, why would you feel guilty? So I started living. I want no part of your life, and you’ll have nothing in mine anymore. Those are my confessions to you madam. I wish you well, may your toxic life go well elsewhere. Just leave me out of it.