How to Separate the Good Mom from the Bad Mom

How to Separate the Good Mom from the Bad Mom

My guest blogger writes a letter to her mom. She is working through How to Separate the Good Mom from the Bad Mom. Her path of healing has been long and arduous. She is wading through the good memories and the bad. Right now, sadly, bad memories are more prevalent. I pray that one day, she will remember the good memories she had with her mom. Somehow, someway, it makes the bad memories more bearable.

My Dearest Mother,

My Dearest Mother, you have caused me so much pain for the past ten years. I cannot count how many times I have laid in bed at night and cried because of you. Sadly, I have cried because I was not good enough for you. I have cried because, at times, I have needed you most, but you were not here. Also, I have cried because I cannot call you when I have had a hard day at work or school. It is frustrating that you are so thickheaded that you cannot see what you did wrong. I have written you numerous letters hoping they would somehow reach you and you would come to your senses. 

Spoiler alert, you have not. 

For years, I walked on eggshells to ensure I did not hurt your feelings. At this point, I do not care. I am fed up with the lies you feed everyone. Imagine saying that your eleven-year-old daughter made up a story about how you locked your sick son up in his bedroom and would not give him food. Like, I did not just wake up one day and say, ‘Hm, I think I want to make up this lie and make my mom look bad today.’ Imagine trying to blame you and your husband’s actions on CHILDREN. Honestly, I have not asked you for much, just for you to admit what you did and apologize. 

I know that is something I will never get. 

Once, you told me you were raising us how you wanted to be treated. That does not make sense to me. Who wants to be sexually abused by their stepfather for years? Because I certainly did not. I did not want him to watch me every time I took a shower. Also, I did not want him to watch me get dressed. I did not want him to put his hand on my butt whenever I stood remotely close to him.

Furthermore, I did not want him to take my sister and me to the garage that day and assault us. I did not wish for all this trauma you gave me. All I wanted was a mother. 

At this point

 I do not even wonder what my life would be like had you not met my stepdad because it tends to hurt my feelings. Why wasn’t I good enough for you? Honestly, why? Why? Just why? I have so many questions for you, and I know I will not get a single answer. All I want is a mom. Someone to look out for me, give me advice, and most importantly, I want to experience a mother’s love. 

Every night, when I pray, I pray that I am not like you. I pray that I never cause my children pain. Also, I pray that my kids will NEVER lay in bed at night crying because they feel I do not love them. I will be nothing like you, and that is a promise. Maybe you will come to your senses one day, but that is doubtful.

Best Regards,

Your Daughter