I didn’t grow up with a loving mother.  Maybe she was in her own way.  I never blamed my mother for leaving my father years ago.  He was an alcoholic.  He was mean to her.  I didn’t blame her for finding someone else and moving on.  I did blame her for making her children low on her priority list. Her husband didn’t like children, especially ones his wife had before they met.   He was never kind to my brother, and in the end of my relationship with the man, I verbally purged myself.  Let’s just put it this way, if I start screaming and crying, I’ve let it build up for quite a while, and I have a potty mouth.  It’s been 12 years since I had a relationship with my mother.  I don’t miss her.  I miss the fact that I don’t have a relationship with a mother who is also a friend.  I’m jealous of other women I see with their friendships and constant support.

A little background on my mother.  It does help me to understand some of her behavior.  She was born to two people who were married to other people.  She was an accident they did not want, and they gave her to her aunt.  Her aunt and uncle loved her until she was 9 years old when her uncle committed suicide in front of her, possibly because her aunt was having an affair.  At this point, the aunt became an alcoholic with men in and out.  The home got so bad, she ended up back with her parents still shacking up after 15 years, but still married to other people.  Supposedly, her father molested her and she ended up back with the drunk aunt where she had an affair with a married man.  That produced my brother and while pregnant with him, she married my father.  My father was an alcoholic, who is a great dad, but a horrible husband.  They divorced after ten years.  She met my step father, not sure if that started before or after she left my father, there is a blurred line there.  They got married and he became the center of her life.  I’m not a jealous child, I wanted her to be happy.  I just didn’t think that it meant she was going to marry a man who wanted all of her attention and detested her children for taking any of her time.

My mother only seemed to care about accomplishments.  Something she would have to be proud of.  I know she loved us, but not enough I suppose.  I don’t keep contact with her now, and I don’t know that I ever will.  Most of the time, I am fine with that, but every now and then, it makes me really sad.  Why couldn’t I have the mother that was always supporting, a shoulder, a friend?  It’s really sad, she doesn’t know her grandchildren, and I don’t think that will ever change.  I hear it is good therapy to write a letter to people who upset you, so I did.  I probably won’t share with her, but why not with the rest of the world.

Letter to my mother:

Ever wonder what you have missed the past 12 years?  You probably think you missed me falling flat on my face, struggling to get by, tied down to a man and children.  You seemed to think so.  You probably think I missed you.  Sometimes, I’ll admit that I did.  Not really you, but the mother I wished I had.

The truth is, I didn’t miss “you”.  You were never that great.  You expectations were impossible.  You disappointment was paralyzing.  Your love was conditional upon your husband’s approval.

You are right.  I am tied down.  I like it.  I know you didn’t like being tied down with children, but I enjoy it.  I’m surrounded with unconditional love.  I unconditionally love the people I’m tied down to.  I did struggle.  What person doesn’t?  I worked my ass off.  I got a good job…a career.  I know you’ve always had a man to take care of you, and probably do not understand that.  My world still manages to revolve around my children.  Guess what…with the right man, you can have romance, and still be a mother.  In fact, a good man loves a woman even more for taking care of her children.  What man loves a woman who ditches her kids for a man?  Oh yeah, yours.

I’m sorry that I always liked dirt more than dresses.  I am even more sorry that you couldn’t see there was nothing wrong with me.  It took me a long time to figure that out, and I guess you still haven’t.  I’m not sorry that I chose my own path.  It wasn’t always easy.  I dropped out of college.  I became a mother at 19.  My list of parental disappointment could go on and on.  I had a rough few years,  but I made it.  I’m sorry for you, that you didn’t make that journey with me.  Imagine how much easier my life would have been if I had a mother to talk to.

I mean, if you cared at all, you would have drawn a line when your husband wanted to fight your teenage son over nothing.  My brother never had a chance.  Good thing you had that sister willing to take in your son. I mean, he made a good farm hand for her, so I guess that worked out for you and your sister.    I see weakness in myself sometimes, and I silently curse you because I feel like you are the reason.  You were not much of a role model.  I have to remind myself that I’m not the woman you are, and I’m not afraid to stand up for myself.  I remind myself that I should never value myself by my husband, because I am more than a wife.

Good news, as usual, Dad pulled double duty.  He wasn’t perfect, but he’s always been there for me, and he has never stopped being the rock I’ve leaned on.  Your services are no longer needed.  If you weren’t there when I needed you,  I damn sure don’t want you around now.

Please continue to complain to your sisters that I never see you, that I refuse to give you the time of day.  Just because they comfort you, it doesn’t mean they don’t know what kind of man you are married to, and what kind of mother you are.  Your husband is 27 years older than you.  Not to sound like I don’t care, but let’s be realistic, he won’t be here forever.  I’m not really sure if it will hit you then.  You have two children that don’t come around.  You have grandchildren you do not know.  I can’t blame your husband for your absence.  You are a grown woman and must live with the decisions you have made.  Good luck with that!

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