Lily Child
Bronze Member
My mother not only subjected me to pornography, and was a drug dealer who brought men into my life of less than noble character, but when I told her of these men, she would justify the abuse, or minimize the affects that it had on my life. She always made me feel that I was irrational.
It's been four years since I have personally responded to my mother. I wrote her a letter the last time she was in prison and told her why I was upset, and what needed to change. She would call and text, and I since changed my number. She sent letters that I wouldn't respond to.
Imagine my surprise as I'm standing in my kitchen baking cookies with my children and in walks my mother! She had let herself in because the front door was open while one of my children were playing outside. I literally felt the blood drain from my face.
I managed small talk while I figured out what to do with my children to minimize the trauma that they could possibly incur while I maneuvered the situation with a woman that is a pill addict, and a loose canon. Eventually, I migrated us into the living room. She had also brought my niece.
I told her that I didn't know why she had come. I was about to ask her to leave when she interrupted me and said something that would set me off internally, while remaining calm on the surface. She said, "I know that I have apologized several times for not being a perfect mother..." My response was this: "I'm going to stop you right there. When you say things like that, you make yourself into a martyr, and you place the blame back onto me as though I had expected you to be a perfect mother. I expected a mother who wasn't a drug addict, I expected a mother who didn't sell illegal drugs, I expected a mother who protected me against child predators. All of those are reasonable expectations."
That lead us down a very long discussion regarding the things that had happened in my life. For four years she has spent time discussing this situation with people, creating her own fantasy of reality, and having people validate that she is a victim and I'm over reacting. For years, she taught me that the abuse that I endured that left me feeling like a shell of the person that I was, left me feeling violated, abandoned, alone, and unlovable... that it was all normal, and she minimized what it had done to me emotionally. Then she walked into MY home, uninvited and unannounced, sat on MY couch, and tried to justify her actions and minimize the effect it had on me. I had the opportunity to say to her FACE what I was feeling, and to watch her version of reality crumble under her feet, and her to physically flinch while my words slapped her in the face. I got to stand up for that little girl inside of me. And she threw around accusations, excuses, and insults, but I'm strong enough to not allow her to define me any longer. Then she left my house saying "I drove a 1000 miles on a broken tailbone and this is how you treat me."
Thank you, Mother for validation that you haven't changed, and that I made the right choice in my life. You drove a 1000 miles with a broken tailbone to come to a house that you knew you weren't wanted and then are surprised that you aren't welcomed with open arms? Thank you, for showing up here unannounced and seeing me in a tender moment baking cookies with my children, the way a mother should. Thank you, for showing up here knowing that I didn't want you and proving to me that what you want is more important than what I want. Thank you for insulting me about serving two different Gods on your way out the door. Thank you for always making yourself the victim, because if I ever doubted from your last letter that you had changed, I got to visually see that you hadn't. Thank you for the opportunity for closure.
Thank you, Mother, for bringing my young niece who is, unfortunately, a victim of your choices because her father is a product of our environment. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to sit there and tell her that she deserved better, and that the first time child protective services took them from my brother that our family had no right to enable the reunion. That I love my brother, but that doesn't mean I agree with what he does. And that he didn't deserve to be their parents, that they didn't deserve to be treated like that. Thank you, for the opportunity to tell her that she is worth more than she will ever know. And that I love her.
Thank you, Mother, for that conversation about how when you signed me over to my ex, who fathered my three oldest children, to look over and see my baby smiling up at me, as though I'm his world. And in that moment, I know that I'm allowed to feel that injustices and be angry, but to appreciate where this broken road led me.
Thank you, Jesus, for preparing me these last few years for this moment. For teaching me to not be a slave to my emotions and to stand up for myself in a respectful way.
I got those opportunities to see those things, be those things, tell my mom what I wanted to, discover the names of the two men who raped me, and write them. I have had an incredible year with healing.
I hope you will too. Thank you for reading.
It's been four years since I have personally responded to my mother. I wrote her a letter the last time she was in prison and told her why I was upset, and what needed to change. She would call and text, and I since changed my number. She sent letters that I wouldn't respond to.
Imagine my surprise as I'm standing in my kitchen baking cookies with my children and in walks my mother! She had let herself in because the front door was open while one of my children were playing outside. I literally felt the blood drain from my face.
I managed small talk while I figured out what to do with my children to minimize the trauma that they could possibly incur while I maneuvered the situation with a woman that is a pill addict, and a loose canon. Eventually, I migrated us into the living room. She had also brought my niece.
I told her that I didn't know why she had come. I was about to ask her to leave when she interrupted me and said something that would set me off internally, while remaining calm on the surface. She said, "I know that I have apologized several times for not being a perfect mother..." My response was this: "I'm going to stop you right there. When you say things like that, you make yourself into a martyr, and you place the blame back onto me as though I had expected you to be a perfect mother. I expected a mother who wasn't a drug addict, I expected a mother who didn't sell illegal drugs, I expected a mother who protected me against child predators. All of those are reasonable expectations."
That lead us down a very long discussion regarding the things that had happened in my life. For four years she has spent time discussing this situation with people, creating her own fantasy of reality, and having people validate that she is a victim and I'm over reacting. For years, she taught me that the abuse that I endured that left me feeling like a shell of the person that I was, left me feeling violated, abandoned, alone, and unlovable... that it was all normal, and she minimized what it had done to me emotionally. Then she walked into MY home, uninvited and unannounced, sat on MY couch, and tried to justify her actions and minimize the effect it had on me. I had the opportunity to say to her FACE what I was feeling, and to watch her version of reality crumble under her feet, and her to physically flinch while my words slapped her in the face. I got to stand up for that little girl inside of me. And she threw around accusations, excuses, and insults, but I'm strong enough to not allow her to define me any longer. Then she left my house saying "I drove a 1000 miles on a broken tailbone and this is how you treat me."
Thank you, Mother for validation that you haven't changed, and that I made the right choice in my life. You drove a 1000 miles with a broken tailbone to come to a house that you knew you weren't wanted and then are surprised that you aren't welcomed with open arms? Thank you, for showing up here unannounced and seeing me in a tender moment baking cookies with my children, the way a mother should. Thank you, for showing up here knowing that I didn't want you and proving to me that what you want is more important than what I want. Thank you for insulting me about serving two different Gods on your way out the door. Thank you for always making yourself the victim, because if I ever doubted from your last letter that you had changed, I got to visually see that you hadn't. Thank you for the opportunity for closure.
Thank you, Mother, for bringing my young niece who is, unfortunately, a victim of your choices because her father is a product of our environment. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to sit there and tell her that she deserved better, and that the first time child protective services took them from my brother that our family had no right to enable the reunion. That I love my brother, but that doesn't mean I agree with what he does. And that he didn't deserve to be their parents, that they didn't deserve to be treated like that. Thank you, for the opportunity to tell her that she is worth more than she will ever know. And that I love her.
Thank you, Mother, for that conversation about how when you signed me over to my ex, who fathered my three oldest children, to look over and see my baby smiling up at me, as though I'm his world. And in that moment, I know that I'm allowed to feel that injustices and be angry, but to appreciate where this broken road led me.
Thank you, Jesus, for preparing me these last few years for this moment. For teaching me to not be a slave to my emotions and to stand up for myself in a respectful way.
I got those opportunities to see those things, be those things, tell my mom what I wanted to, discover the names of the two men who raped me, and write them. I have had an incredible year with healing.
I hope you will too. Thank you for reading.
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