You Suck

You suck. That’s the subject line from the most recent e-mail from my mother. Yes. The woman who birthed me. The one who raised me and “loved” me and the one I “discarded” when her toxicity leaked all over my infant daughter of twenty-six days. That’s the one. Obviously there is so much more to the story but this is just the most recent...episode...? I did block her and technically her e-mail was in the spam folder and I wasn’t looking for that. I was looking for something else completely and was genuinely shocked since it had been three and a half years since the last one.

You suck. That’s what she decided would get my attention. I guess she was right. She went on in the body of the e-mail to question whether I was actually having a relationship (albeit solely through social media) with my grandfather. Yes, her father. She wrote that he had called her mother a whore and told her that she was not his. And therefore, I could not be his family either. I do not know if this ever happened. My mother tends to create realities that suit her martyrdom. I’ve been a subject, savior, co-victim and recently the villain of many of her fantasies. To be clear, she has been clinically diagnosed with (and refuses treatment for) her mental illnesses. Which is what I am “recovering” from. It’s so strange that I started this account a decade ago, have been searching for four years now for an outlet, have always felt that writing it down is the best way for me to communicate my feelings and I just now realized that I have had this outlet at my disposal, calling to me from my inbox every so often. JUST now I found my tool for recovery. My outlet for letting ALL. THIS. SHIT. GO.

You suck. Every fiber of the stubborn, bull-headed, need-to-be-right side of my personality wanted to respond quickly and angrily and I honestly don’t know how I managed not to write right back. No, Mom, YOU suck. You don’t get to dictate my relationships. I am not responsible for the hurt you perceive in the relationship with YOUR father. I am not required to disengage with him because you SAY that he said horrible things ABOUT my grandmother TO you.

I am not completely innocent. I did deactivate my social media account. That was the reason she acquired the information that I had a relationship with my grandfather. I didn’t respond to her and I didn’t engage with her. BUT...when my aunt asked me why I was no longer on social media, I sent her screen shots of the e-mail. It did not make me feel better. It hurt her, put her in the middle of it, and then hurt my grandfather when she told him what my mom had written. I played the victim. Just like I had been taught and I have fought to change about my personality for so many years now. I regret sharing that e-mail with my aunt.

I regret so few things in my life. Not because I’m a saint or anything. Far from it but because I feel that each step and misstep I’ve taken has led me to who/where I am now. And I am happy. I always feel like people think I’m lying when I say this or that I sound disingenuous when I say I’m happy. Or that I need to follow up with an explanation or convince people that yes, in fact, I am happy. I know, I know “what others think of me is none of my business.” I know I’m not supposed to care what others think but it is a hard habit to break when it’s been ingrained in you for thirty some odd years. But I am happy. And guilty because a lot of my happiness has been a direct result of my decision to no longer communicate with my mother.

That’s not to say that there isn’t a LOT to unpack from our history though and I feel like I’m ready to get it out. Let it go and move on with my future. In the meantime, I’m doing my best to raise a strong, independent, mentally healthy and emotionally mature daughter of my own. I hope I don’t fuck her up...