Dear Mother…
By: Las Borihoes
Tags: Self Improvement, Relationships, Family, Motherhood, Letters

Dear Mother,

I write in this letter, anonymously, the things I don’t currently have the courage to tell you about. You see, we haven’t truly talked in years and I feel we may not talk in many more. But I need to get this off of my chest somehow, until I find the strength to get help.

I miss you, Mother. I miss being able to talk to you through more than just one-word sentences and light conversations about daily things. I miss being able to ask you about anything I was curious about at the time. But I haven’t done it in a long time, and I don’t know if I can anymore.

What happened, Mother? What happened to us? Why do I find myself so close to you yet so out of reach?

I don’t remember when we stopped talking. It must have been when I was violated in the worst way possible and I never said a thing out of fear of being reprimanded, out of fear that I would be told that it was my fault. Being told all my life that I should never put myself in a position where a man could take advantage of me because if I did I was asking for it, only to have men take advantage of me both physically and emotionally… well, I hope you can see why I never told you. It would have been my fault, as were all the mistakes I did that never deserved the reprimands they received.

I never deserved to be told I wouldn’t survive on my own all because I drank too much one time. I never deserved to be told I was weak or a failure when I was struggling with a class. I never deserved feeling like I wasn’t enough.

Is that why we don’t talk anymore, Mother? Is it because you know your daughter is broken? Was your guilt or denial about the role you played too much to look at?

Surely you noticed by now how little your daughter smiles and how few words she speaks. You must have taken note of the bags under eyes and the silent rage that forms in the depths of her eyes when she feels too much. You must have noticed the scabs on her fingers as she bit them raw because she’s fighting to survive under the pressure that pushes her to please you. Because that’s all she’s ever wanted: to please you.

Are you pleased, Mother? Are you pleased with the silent girl who screams to be understood?

You probably haven’t noticed, not in depth. And I’d say that’s okay, but the rage and the trauma and the pressure are eating me up inside. Rage, because I know I don’t deserve the trauma and the pressure. I have done so well. I went to school, I picked myself up from the pieces left from my exes, I learned the ins and outs of this malignant world and to not try to please everyone. I graduated top of my class, I’m smart with my money, I chose a major I like, I spent most of my college life studying instead of partying, I even chose the best person to be my romantic partner and have fought for people to recognize my worth. I did everything you told me that was correct to do.

So why is that not enough? Why, even after you tell people how proud you are of me, is it not enough? Why, if I make a simple mistake, if I slip up, if I so much as stray from the line you’ve forced me to walk on, is that suddenly more important than all the good?

I’m tired, Mother. I’m tired of not being enough. It destroys me to know I may never be, especially because you have always been enough for me.

I don’t hate you, Mother. I know that under everything you were, in your own way and due to your own trauma, trying to ensure that your daughter grew up to be the best person she could be. I recognize the sacrifices you had to make for this to be a reality. I acknowledge that you do love me and you’d jump in front of a bullet and give up your own life if it meant I could live. I just wish you would understand me, my pain, and the resentment I have of having to live up to your expectations of what a perfect daughter is and apparently coming up short.

Will that be enough, Mother?

Maybe one day, when I am no longer living under your watchful gaze, I’ll finally gather up the courage to get an answer.