The Things I Wish You'd Never Taught Me

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Dear Mom,

It's me - your number two daughter. I know it's weird to use formalities like these. It's always just been you, me, and big sis - the Three Musketeers.

You've always known me better than anyone - my secret shames and guilty pleasures, my deepest regrets and biggest achievements. I've told them all to you, because really, who else would I tell?

I told you when I snuck out in high school to go to a party - I told you that same night after I snuck back in. You were right, by the way... I was bored out of my mind and would have much rathered sit at home, playing Scrabble with you while we watched Dr. Who and drank a cup of tea or two.

There's really only a couple things you don't know...

I've written so many pieces in honor of you - letters, poems, essays, and fictional stories, too. I never shared them with you, though - for a million reasons and none at all - I just couldn't bring myself to.

You must know though - you're the strongest and smartest person I'll ever know, and you've shared your best qualities with me - your intelligence, your wit, your strength and courage, even your love of rock music and Trekkie tendencies.

Oh, but mom... there are other things inside of me that you've given me as well. Things that I'm not so grateful for, but I've never said as much to you.

You have the same intuition I do, so I'm sure this doesn't come as news to you, but I know it would still break your heart in two if I said the words aloud.

So, if you promise never to read this, I'll share them here with you:

I wish you'd just let me be a landlubbing fool and not filled me with the same wanderlust as you...

There are so many things we love, so many passions we share and others unique to us each, but you taught me one that fills my soul more than all others.

I love the ocean just like you. Being on land is like dying inside - a slow and painful death filled with heartache and longing so deep. Yet, you still brought me to TEXAS and trapped us both in this landlocked hell.

I'm so sorry, mom, but sometimes, I hate you for that. And that it was another man who was behind that decision - it leaves me hopping mad and full of resentment.

But I know you're dying inside here, too. So, I'll do my best to get us out. I'll get us to Hawaii one day soon, I swear this much to you. We'll ride the waves out to sea and swim under the moon, and life will be swell (get it? Swell...)

I know we both crave travel and movement. Foreign lands, foreign sounds, foreign smells, foreign waves, and foreign foods...

Oooh.... Food...

I wish you'd never taught me to eat like you...

Most of what you taught me has been good for me, and I love it all so much. You taught me the importance of eating organic and the devils of hydrogenated oils. You shared your love of vegetables and pomegranates, and you even taught me what vitamins and minerals are essential, and which ones are bollocks. We share a big bag of turmeric, and we each have our own kettle filled with decaf green tea, but why oh, why did you have to share so many delicious treats with me?

Is there anything more delicious than cinnamon sugar and butter on toast with a big glass of milk? Or what about a huge bowl of home fried potatoes with Tabasco and a big glass of milk? Spaghetti with Parmesan and butter and (yep, you guessed it) a big glass of milk. Did I mention Ovaltine powder mixed into a big glass of milk?

Some of the most delicious foods are simply terrible for me, but they bring comfort and memories of you; so I eat them anyway...

I suppose it's because neither of us grew up with much in our bellies but air and pain. Growing up hungry every day has caused a small amount of food gluttony. You didn't mean to, I know, but you shared your ability to find comfort in food with me. So, I tend to stuff my face when I feel anxiety. I guess that's the another thing I wish you'd never shared with me...

I wish you'd never shared your anxieties with me...

I guess this is another thing I really shouldn't blame you for. If you could've been different, you would've. And I know that if you could've made it better for us, you would've. But we were always so filled with fear growing up. We woke up out of nightmares and lived each day in constant anxiety, walking on eggshells that dad couldn't see. Again, I know you were just a kid when he found you... But he ruined our lives and destroyed our minds, can't you see?

A life lived on the edge, ready to run, ready to fight. You shared that with me, with us. Why didn't we leave earlier? When I was four, I started to dream of killing him every night. I wanted to save myself, but I wanted to save you as well. But you taught me what's right and what's wrong.

Sometimes, I wish that you had not taught me that. I wish you had let me do what's wrong. I wish you'd let me kill him sometimes. But you taught me to be better. To love even those who would hurt me... those who did hurt me. I wish you'd not shared this with me.

Sometimes, I wish you had not taught me to be good like you...

You taught me the truth. More than that, you taught me how to see the truth for myself. I can see through the lies. Through men and the devil - I see the deceptions they would heap upon me.

You taught me how to see a villain and spot the victim. Sometimes, I want to just go to the store or a movie without seeing the sociopath sitting next to me. I'd love to have a conversation with a psychopath and walk away thinking the same as their neighbors and friends - "but he was so charming. I never saw it coming."

Well, you taught me to see it coming, didn't you? You taught me to see through the charm - see through the bull. It's made all the difference many times, and it's even saved my life a time or two.

But, really, I wish you'd never taught me to be as shrewd and smart as you...

Seriously, why couldn't we just be like everyone else? Blind to the truth. Blind to the lies. Seeing charm and good qualities everywhere we turn.

You taught me to keep my eyes open. Never blinking, I see the truth through their lies. I see through the lies of men, and I see their intentions...

But you don't always, do you? Not when it comes to love. I wish you'd never taught me that either.

I wish you'd never taught me to love like you...

Maybe if we'd had dads who loved us, we'd both be better off. Who was worse, do you think? Your dad or mine? I guess it doesn't matter in the end, because the result was the same.

Each man you found was worse than the last. Ex number three is still not in the rear view, and you've got another one lined up that's already broken your heart in two.

How do you keep making the same mistakes each day anew?

Why do you keep thinking you need a man to make it better for you?

But most of all, mama dear... How oh, how could you even think to teach me to do the same?

I wish so much you'd not shared your "crumb mentality" with me...

You saw it on Oprah once - "the crumb mentality." When you receive so little, you rejoice in that which you do receive. Well, boy, is that the truth!

You tried so hard to show me my worth. You showed me my strengths and beauty each day you spoke to me. And I saw yours glow like the sun that bounced off of you. But none of those beautiful, shining qualities spoke as loudly as your self-doubt and inactivity.

Just like they beat it out of you, they beat it out of me. I don't blame you for that, but it's true that you shared this with me... And I wish so desperately you had not.

You asked me recently if I thought that I'd have still married him if you'd set a better example with your own choices in men.

Well, I saw the red flags and knew better. That part is true. So, don't get me wrong, mama - I know the blame lies with me.

But I have to be honest when I tell you that I had no self-esteem to spare. I didn't know how to say no to him. I didn't know how to stand up for myself. I didn't know how to stand at all.

Do you remember what you asked me on my wedding day? I stood in my wedding dress, holding my handmade bouquet?

"Do you feel trapped?" you asked me as I stood with terror in my soul.

Do you remember what I'd said with flowers in my hair?

"Yep! But let's do it, anyway."

What else was I supposed to do? Why'd you wait for that moment to ask me that question? And why'd you teach me to put myself on the back burner when men are involved?

I've stood tall against men holding guns and knives. I've backed men twice my size down the stairs, and I've held a grizzly bear at bay with only a stare.

But I couldn't walk away that day or the day before, and I wish I knew why. I do to an extent, but... Oh, mom. Why do we have to be this way?

You taught me never to be a victim. There was no room for damsels in our life, but then, we make damsels of ourselves all the time.

I suppose we each keep trying to fill the void left by our fathers. And at least I did a little better - he's not a sociopath at least. I got you beat there. He's just a touch of the Sheldon Cooper - Just enough Aspberger's Syndrome to put a cog in the wheel.

But he loves animals as much as I do, and it makes up for a lot...

I wish you hadn't taught me to love so intensely...

You know that both of us will go to the ends of the earth to help just anyone. We kill ourselves trying to take care of others and wind up with those who just take and take and take.

We're both "mom" and "mama" to so many, but how many return our love in the end? So few... so few.

We wear ourselves out until there's nothing left to give. Until we're just shells of ourselves, beaten and broken down... And when there's nothing left, what happens each time?

They leave. We're abandoned. Heartbroken and hollow.

So, mom, the truth is that my heart lies broken, and I resent you for that as well.

And speaking of love leaving me heartbroken... why'd you teach me to love animals like you?

You taught me to love dogs so much that they make up most of my soul. I hold them so close to my heart that when their own hearts stop beating, I feel mine slow down as well, but it keeps beating just enough to keep me breathing, and that's worse than death when the pain is so great.

Why do we have to be this way?

Why can't we buy purses for them and put them in cute little costumes like they're just living Barbie dolls? Instead, I give them every part of me, and each time I lose one of them, this world gets darker, and I beg for the release of death, but I can never give into that feeling, because you taught me to always survive.

I wish so much sometimes that you'd never taught me to be a survivor like you...

No matter how much pain comes, I just keep on going. My body is dying a slow death. Each limb hurts so bad that I dream of cutting them off, and my heart shriveled up years ago, but I'm still here, and it hurts so much.

That line from our favorite show (Psych) when Shawn says that his "heart feels like wet toilet paper"... Isn't that just the best description for this feeling?

I feel so weak that I could crumble and disappear in water... But I'm stronger than I feel, because you taught me to be.

Why would you make me be so strong? Why couldn't you let me be weak? Why'd you have to teach me to hold on when I want to let go so desperately? Why do others get to be weak and rely on others, but I have to carry the world on my shoulders? Why'd you teach me that nothing in this life is ever fair?

Why'd you share your high pain tolerance with me? It's a curse most of the time. Not a gift like I used to think. Especially when you're immune to pain killers... both the real and metaphorical kind.

Why'd you have to teach me to be better like you?

I guess that's our lot in life, though, isn't it? Pain without relief. Knowledge without use. Experience without comfort.

But you taught me what to do with all of that, too, didn't you? Use it for others. Empathize with them when they can't empathize with me. Take care of others when they're too weak, because we can always keep going.

God, I want just one day where someone takes care of me. The last person who did was you, but it's been a few years gone by. We're so busy helping others all the time, now. We don't even see each other, and we live in the same house. We're "Mom" and "Mama" to everyone but ourselves and each other. You taught me that, too.

There are so many things in life I wish you'd never taught me...

Why'd you have to make me better?

Stronger? Smarter? Fiercer? And yet... still so weak?

It's okay, though, and do you know why?

Because you are a survivor. You keep going everyday, no matter what you face.

And because you taught me how -- I'm a survivor, too!

That's why I love you so much - For all the things you've taught me. The good and the bad - I'll take them all.

Because you gave them to me, and I know they're not just fallen crumbs...

They are intentional lessons you taught me every day. They're the real gifts. And so are you.

So, even when you drive me crazy, and I wish I was less like you...

I know I'm just being silly, and that I'm really very grateful for all you do.

There are just a few things that I wish you'd never taught to me, but in the end, I know...

I'm grateful for those too, because they come from you.

Love,

Your Number 2

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Copyright Lena Folkert 2022

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