Letter of resentment to Mary

Dear Mary,

A week ago today, I wrote you a letter. In that letter, I told you I would never call you my mother again. I told you you didn’t deserve to share my life with me, or even hear the sound of my voice. I’m writing to you today to tell you I stand by all the those things I said.

And yet, as I sit here, a week later, I still seethe with anger inside for you. I wrote that letter in hopes that I would finally be able to let you go, but today I feel your presence more than ever. This morning I found the courage to talk to you again, to find out why you were still in my life even though you are so far away. I told you again what a piece of shit you are, and that part of you left my mind, but the part that remains with me made me sad. That part of you look just like me.

I know now your life as a child was so much like mine. Like me you were sold by a parent into slavery as a little girl. Tears come to my eyes when I think of you now, having to sleep in a cage. I often remember you sharing memories of your father, and it breaks my heart that you don’t know. Your own father conceived you simply to sell you and live off the profit after abandoning his eight other children. Just like me, you were stripped of your childhood, and just like me, your own mind fractured into the painful existence that is dissociative identity disorder. Sitting here, thinking about how painful my life has been, I think also about how painful your life has been.

I wish my emotions towards you weren’t so complex. So many times on this journey I tried to tell you about your father and about your dissociative identity disorder, but you told me I was crazy. So many times I tried to hate you and it only left me sad. Today I’m left feeling that my only option is to forgive you. Today I consciously choose to let go of my anger towards you and forgive. I wish you the best, I wish you the same healing I found, and I wish you some kind of peace your life, even if I’m not there to see it.

Regards,

Asa