BPDFamily.com

Dear Mother,
This is a letter I can’t send because you live in a different reality.

A reality that makes you believe that your children owe you with their entire existence.

I once existed to keep you happy, in the hopes that when you were happy, I would feel the love that a mother should give to her daughter- unearned, unconditional.

Your love was a mirrage, for decades  it was my sole purpose to earn that love- so I gave, and gave, not only to you and dad but to my hostile siblings.

The very ones you weaponised against.
Typing this hurts, waking up to this awareness haunts me relentlessly!
Ignorance is bliss they say but not in this matter.

Ignorance of the delusional reality you are stuck in is like allowing an obvious malignant tumour to grow without being addressed.
You grew up during a civil war, you were eight years old, an adorable 8yr old that stood out wherever you went for golden blonde hair and golden brown eyes.

You had to be separated from your own mother to keep you safe. You experienced abuse in the care of your aunt and worked hard to earn acceptance for a period of time.

You were married in your teens, and have remained in 47yr hellish marriage.
I see you and all the difficulties you experienced.

I also see others who went through thesame horrible experiences during the war.

You and your mates were survivors.
In fact you are still a survivor, you will do anything to justify your perpetual survival mode.

I’m the collateral damage, resulting from your survival. My childhood was sacrificed on an alter of your emotional immaturity, yet you think of yourself as the victim and the best mother.

Yes you were the martyr type, queen type, mother superior, very entitled.

You were so entitled, that I spent my childhood being your rescuer and mother, therapist, babysitter, cleaner, and ultimately your scapegoat.

I have avoided typing this letter, the worms they hurt, they gnaw at my peace.

My mind tortures me relentlessly, with sadness for the things I had to endure.

My reality sears my mind and the grief is debilitating.

I never had a mother, I had to be your helper from the age of 8. Washing cloth nappies and accused of being lazy , as I could never wash the nappies as clean as you when you were 8 years old.
Accused of neglecting my baby brother because I fell down while I was babysitting him.

Accused of being rude to my older brothers because girls should never fight back or speak up against mistreatment.

Accused of being slow and lazy because dinner for our family of 10 was not ready on time.

Accused of having a bad mind because I constantly choked while eating ( it’s because I was thinking of something bad).

Told I was ugly because I appeared sad and depressed about the situation at home.
I don’t have any memories of being happy in my childhood.

I remember being neglected and being scared of asking any questions or making any requests.

In my adult years, you changed your tactics to focus on financial abuse, covertly stealing money from me, making me pay for an inheritance that doesn’t exist.

I learned to love you mother, by losing myself and neglecting my own needs.

Dear mother, I have bled enough emotionally, financially, and physically.

I have chosen No Contact for me. It still hurts anyway but I’ve stopped the bleeding !

Wow, that was very real and I felt every word.  How do you feel now that you've published it?

Shedding a few tears to read my own words.
After a stressful week my inner child paid a visit, finding it hard to reassure her that we are alright now, that I’ve got this. Maybe it’s because I haven’t got this after all .

Sometimes I want to call her and say I’m sorry but I remind myself that no body feels sorry for what’s happened.

I’m prepared to go no contact for the rest of hers or my life.

Tangled,

   Thanks for sharing.

SD

TM, this is a beautiful piece of intospective work and insight.

It’s amazing on many levels. 

I am curious- how did you feel after finishing it? 

Thanks Methuen,
I was shattered initially, it’s just too painful to open a can worms and watch them crawl out. Sometimes I feel like the more they crawl out the better I feel.
But I don’t even think I have shared upto 10% of what sort of worms in my inner child’s can. Some of it is too painful to even write down in journal.
Surprisingly I slept well last night, without any nightmares and woke up an ounce lighter in mood so I cling to that thought and say I feel better.
Thank you