Letter to Mary

Dear Mary,

I am writing to you again to tell you, today, that I am so full of anger toward you, but also full of grief and loss at the mother you never were, the mother I never had.

Because of you, I am so afraid of who I am, and I wonder sometimes who that person really is. I see your face in my head sometimes looking at me with disgust because I know I will never be good enough for you. I tell myself over and over again that I am enough, but I am still left with the pain of knowing that the one person who should have loved me unconditionally never loved me at all. Tears come to my eyes each day as I judge myself and criticize myself for the very things that make me a unique individual. Often, those criticisms sound like your voice.

I see other women with their mothers and I am jealous. I want what they have, the love, nuturing, and support that even adults need. Yet, here I am, alone, knowing that the only way I can be healthy and learn to love myself is to stay as far away from you as I can. I wish the pain would go away sometimes, I wish I could smile in this moment instead of cry, but the wounds you created in me run deep and will take a long time to heal.

I’m left writing one last thing to you, something that is so hard yet I have to choose it over and over again to heal. I forgive you. I forgive a woman that was so neglected as a child that she became a mother who was incapable of loving her own children. I forgive a woman who is so mentally ill that she lacks the capacity to understand the depths of her dysfunction. I don’t forgive you to rebuild our relationship because there was never one to begin with, I forgive you so that I can move on without you and finally have the peace in my life that I deserve.

Regards,

Asa