I wish I could tell you that I forgive you. I want you to know that, that I don't bear hatred towards you for the mistakes you made. I understand now that you were acting in the only way you knew how in an impossible situation, overwhelmed by the abuse you'd survived and entirely unable to recognize your abusive behaviors in turn, or help me navigate through the situations that your abuse/neglect put me into from such an early age.
I wish I could talk to you and own up to the things I did, the difficulties I caused, because I know I did. I know I didn't handle myself well, I know I lashed out at you because of the things you did and your failures with me and my family. I know I hurt you, child or not, just as much if not more than you hurt me. I can remember that now and I do know I was malicious. Every time you hurt me physically or emotionally I struck back with ten times more force, I know that. I understand why you thought I was out of control.
I feel sorry for what happened, for how I acted. But I mostly feel sorry for you. My life is really difficult, but so was yours from just as early an age and though I'm able to navigate through my own personal hell now, you're unable to acknowledge yours. That's so sad. I wouldn't wish that on anybody. I wish I could hold you now and tell you I understand your pain because you raised me, I really wish I could give you that.
But I can't because you don't understand boundaries or sympathy without trampling all over it and leeching on for more. You're so hurt and desperate you don't know how to have a healthy relationship of give and take and it breaks my heart. I wish I could tell you that. I wish I could help you see that. I really do forgive you Grandma. Maybe in the next life we'll meet and I can say it in person. I really hope so.