Dear Mom

I am writing this letter because now that I am a sober woman the hurts of a lifetime have bubbled to the surface and some these hurts were inflicted by you, either knowingly or unknowingly. I don't remember too much joy in my childhood. I know that my basic needs, food,clothing and shelter were met but I don't believe that my needs for love, nurturing and acceptance were. I remember bedtimes we had to come to you for kisses goodnight. So yes, they were there but didn't seem freely given. The mother daughter relationship that I longed for was not available. You didn't take me shopping or I guess what I really mean is you didn't really participate in my life. You had no opinion. Everything was up to my father.

The "secret" that I discovered at around 12-13 is an example of how information was not shared. Your feelings, your knowledge, your pain, your joy was not expressed. This stunted my own growth. When I learned the circumstances of my birth by accident (and which I didn't really learn until after Dad died and not from you but from Grandma and Aunt Cheryl,) the learning that you "had" to get married left me feeling unwanted and unloved. Perhaps this wasn't true but I had no evidence to the contrary and in fact it confirmed my suspiscians and feelings. It was painful and I couldn't even talk to you or anyone about it because of the silence that surrounded me. I built my own little scenario around it and in later life wore it like a badge of honor. The constant experience of punishment, by beatings in early childhood and then being sent to my room or grounded as I got older only served to solidify my feelings of being unwanted, so I must be bad, ugly, irrational and stupid. I don't have any really good memories of you from my youth. Christmas's were good. I remember that, I know you made that happen. But Christmas only comes once a year.

I do have 2 fond memories as a young adult. One, when I was basically on the verge of a nervous breakdown as a result of my drinking and a breakup and betrayal, we talked. I don't remember much but I do remember our hugging and you asking me why I didn't come to you before. It did feel good to talk to you like I imagined other girls talked to their mother but it never happened again. We had a buffer that day because a friend was with me who did have that kind of relationship with her mother and I think she faciltated that heart to heart. I always sought that kind of nurturing from my friends and am very grateful that for the most part I had friends who provided it. The second time you suprised me was when I got my first apartment. You had put aside all the money I had been paying for room & board after I dropped out of college and used it to help set me up with dishes and stuff. I was very grateful for that and I remember being very touched. After I left home, we had a cordial relationship. Dinner on Sundays, me trying to impress Dad with my version of my life. But you did help me along, getting me my first credit card when you worked for the bank and keeping an eye on it so that I wouldn't abuse it. Making sure I did have dinner and leftovers. What I needed.

When I was planning my wedding, you didn't understand any of it. I guess that's because you didn't have one, but I don't know, a girl wants a mother. And when I had Jess, well that's when I really got ticked off. You expected to be a part of it all. I didn't want you there at all but I succumbed to the "shoulds" and allowed you to come "help" after she was born. And you did. But boy, I had a lot of resentment. As I watched you shower love and affection on my daughter, my thoughts were, who does she think she's fooling. And I had absolutely no trust in any advice or suggestions that you attempted to share. After all, look how I turned out. I kept it inside because I knew that wasn't what I was "supposed" to be feeling. Just like I was taught. And that feeling lasted through the birth of my son and on to the events of the recent past. And again, my feelings were confirmed when after Dad died, you could not come out of the abyss of depression and alcoholism for your family, your six grandchildren. At the time I did not understand it was a disease. I knew it on some level but I didn't know what to do. I was caught up in my own disease anyway so how could I. But I wish I knew then what I know now. I tried.

And now, well, we couldn't even talk if I wanted to. Because of the disease of alcoholism you are lost in the world of Korsakoff's Syndrome. I am very grateful that you are happy now but I am filled with sadness. That as I become well, and reach a level of understanding, acceptance and forgiveness we will never be able to have that relationship that I longed for as a child, young adult and now. And it makes it very hard to accept the relationship that we do have. Which is essentially me as caregiver....taking care of your meds, doctor appointments and finances. I keep feeling guilty that your emotional needs are not being met but it is clear that the disease has taken away your emotions. I tried to make you a part of my family but I just can't do that anymore. It's like throwing myself against a brick wall over and over again.

I know that you did the best you knew how. I know that even though your parents weren't alcoholics you grew up in an alcoholic home. I know you tried. I know you loved me. So I forgive you. I know I wasn't an easy child, particularly since you were a child yourself. I know as a teenager and young adult, I was out of control and you didn't know what to do. You were a child of the 40's & 50's and I was of the 60's & 70's, very different eras. I know that my resentment after my children were born probably seeped out in my tone and attitude. I know you would have liked more. So I am sorry for any pain and suffering I caused you. I tried to be there for you after Dad died. I tried to change that relationship, but I guess it was too late and you were sucked into the disease of alcoholism. And I thank you because I know that my values of being a nice person and generous towards others comes from you.

So I will continue to take care of you to the best of my ability. I am sorry that we cannot have a relationship. And I am learning to accept that it is okay and that you are happy as things are. I need not feel as though I am doing something wrong all the time. It's tough when people assume things are one way and they are not. But I have learned that what other people think is none of my business. I cannot let it affect me. I cannot let anyone "should" on us. I know that I am doing the very best for you that I can, just as I know that you did the very best for me that you could. I do love you.