Daily Prompt: Dear Mom
by Hazel Pino
Growing up we hardly saw eye to eye. We hardly got along, period and there were times with C would hit me in front of you or slam me against the wall making me cry and you would stand there and watch. Telling me I shouldn’t cry, I deserve it. When I hardly did anything wrong. Growing up, you thought the worst of me in every aspect of my life. You constantly told me I would never graduate high school or college. I would never be anything. All because of one C in one class, in the 7th grade. You never encouraged me to try harder, you never helped me be better. You just reminded me of all the ways I wouldn’t succeed. The older I got, the worse we didn’t get along. Even when I took 8 classes in high school and had 2 jobs, you still lectured me about how I’ll be nothing, how I am nothing, reminding me that no matter how hard I try or how much I do, in your eyes I will still be a failure.
Now that I’m an adult, you still treat me like a child. You still blame me for your money problems even though they have nothing to do with me (considering you’ve racked up over $100,000 in credit card debit in just YOUR name). Because I’m paying for college without your help you feel the need to tell me how I’ll fail anyway and though I work for the biggest company in the entire effen world you’re still not the slightest bit proud of me. Of course not. OF COURSE NOT. I don’t know why I still expect anything else from you.
Because of you mother, I suffered from depression growing up. I know you saw it, my depression spells, my suicidal moments. Would it had killed you to just give me a hug once in awhile? To comfort me when I was sad? To stop C from punching me in the stomach because he was angry at dad? Would it had been so hard for you to be there for me? I never understood it growing up and I don’t understand it now.
Now that I’m older, I realize I don’t know what it’s like to be part of a family. You’re so fixated on how people view you, view us and yet you do nothing to make it better. You just expect us to pretend to the public and I’m left feeling confused. Confused and robbed. Robbed of what could had been a healthy childhood. I have both my parents, but only to a public view. In reality, I have nothing. I never had anything.
Want to know why I don’t want children mom? I don’t want children because I don’t know how to be a mom. I see some of you, in me, after all it’s what I grew up around. It’s almost like I’m wired this way. I don’t want to be to children what you were to me. I want to be a mother, a real mother to them and I can’t figure out what or who that is. I want my children to grow up and remember the moments when I would sing to them, read to them, teach them how to be better people who make better choices and I want them to remember their mother as someone who was loving, caring and happy and as of right now, I can’t be any of those things. And I have you to thank for that.
I also have you to thank that I quit the things I’m excited to do before I start them because I hear you telling me I’m worthless and I wish there was a way to make it stop. To erase the things that my subconscious is aware of.
I love you mom. But I don’t know if I love you because I do, or I love you because I feel like I have to. Or if I love you because a little part of me makes believe that you were the mother I needed growing up. Even if you hardly were.
Written in response to Daily Prompt: Dear Mom