Just Another Day (Or Why I Don't Celebrate Mother's Day)

Dear "Mom",

I know people operate under the presumption that you should love and honor your parents. But I feel neither for you. For 17 years, you mentally and emotionally abused me. Leaving home was like removing a heavy weight from my chest that I didn't even realize had been there.

And it stung that you didn't bother to visit or call -- I had to be the one to do that. To see how you and my siblings were doing. I guess I should appreciate that you did come to my high school graduation party (which I had to throw for myself). But I think I would've appreciated your presence more if you didn't immediately hit me up for the cash I received right after.

Up until then, I hadn't put much stock in what your extended family said about you being a user and only interested in how they could help you. I learned that message fast, but the lesson slow. I gave you the money, but I hated the way it made me feel, pushing me down the path I'd started on away from you.

And when I moved 1000 miles away for my husband's active duty, and became pregnant. Do you remember when I told you that you were going to be a first-time grandma? I do. You never responded or showed the slightest bit of interest until I miscarried. But of course that was also about you. "I've been trying to get pregnant too, and experienced X, Y, and Z. What were your symptoms? If they're the same, maybe I've been miscarrying too. What should I do to avoid that?" Not once did you ask how I was doing. Me alone in a state far from everyone I knew, my husband deployed for six month in South America. I felt even worse after hanging up that call, which I hadn't thought possible.

Of course after we returned, you just had to break out and move a couple states away. Damn needing jobs, savings, or a place to stay, and an added bonus of taking my sister far away from the rest of her family, denying them visitation. But it was me you called when shit hit the fan, your current husband bailing and leaving you with nothing. Pleading with a daughter you hadn't spoken to in years for help, but refusing to actually make any luck of your own. In the end, you ignored my help and fed on the kindness of strangers that cared for my teen sister and her unfortunate situation.

And I don't even want to rehash Renee's graduation. That was a mess.

 But the last time you had the gall to contact me, to say you finally wanted to know exactly what the issues were and how they should be fixed. You got to me. That's all I've ever wanted from you. And then you fled down the dark rabbit hole of denial and showed your true intentions. You wanted me to make a three-hour drive to "fix things" face-to-face, and soon. Disregard the fact that I work full-time, that I have a family too, that I'm a full-time student. I knew it wouldn't be a short conversation, so I offered to take vacation from work after the college semester was over. It'd give us as long as we needed, whether it be a few hours or a few days. Your ultimatum showed your hand -- you only wanted some kind of assistance, it didn't matter who it came from and it had to be soon. You preyed on that mother-daughter relationship you knew I'd always craved and said it was now or never.

And so it will be never. Our relationship is not a hostage you can keep using to pull my heart strings.

I'll admit, it still tears me up inside. I still cry. But I've accepted the reality of the situation, and refuse to be your doormat, just because you gave birth to me. All the things I wish we could talk about, that we could share, I know it's not an option. If it was, I would've invited you to my college graduation last week. Yeah, did you even realize I was in college? I'd told you last time we spoke that the semester was the reason I had to wait to visit you, but I don't think it ever registered. First person in our family ever to get a college degree, doesn't that make you proud? Don't you want to know what I'm trying to be when I "grow up"?

Biologically, yes, you're my mother. But in any other way, I deny it. There are wonderful women I have met that have been a much more caring, nurturing, supportive force in my life than you ever were. They were there at my graduation, cheering me on and telling me how far I have come, how strong I've been, and how proud they are of my accomplishments. They see me for who I am and can be, not what I can give them.

And they serve to remind me. I am not the one who's missing out. It's you.