Mom

I know I’ve been in and out of my head lately, I just can’t help it. I sometimes wonder if this is feeling has grown to be a part of me now, something I just have to accept and live with. Happiness comes and goes for everyone, but to me it only lasts a few hours before it’s fading again. I’ve been thinking about you, mom. Leaving was the best thing I could’ve done, but it was also the hardest thing I’ve ever have to do in my entire life. Do you still have my things? If so, are you going to keep them? You know, the photo albums, my paintings, the old camera with pictures of me when I was 9 years old. What about the rest of my clothes? I hope you’ll at least give them to charity, someone who needs it more than me. When I woke up this morning a song that reminded me of you wouldn’t stop spinning in my mind. You used to play it for me when I had an anxiety attack to make me cry, and let it out. “I can’t change”, she’s singing over and over again. And you know, I think those words got to you more than it got to me. You can’t change and you won’t change, because you don’t want to.

 

Maybe all of those years of abuse in your young life made you go mad. Insane, crazy, constantly fighting two sides of you. You let the bad side win. You chose the madness over me. Did you know that I haven’t cried in 6 months? See, this is how you’ve trained me. You repeated words until I believed it, and now I either feel nothing or everything at once. For one second I feel sorry for you, the next I feel anger and the rest of the time I feel waves of sadness, emptiness. Trying to forget you is hopeless, and trying to live with it seems unbearable at times. You’re trying to make it seem like I left to hurt you, without ever thinking of why I did it in the first place.

 

I’m aware of every side of it, every single element of hate and doubt you put on my shoulders. You’re not with me, but the ghost of you is. I want to scream “leave me alone!” but I know there’s no one else in my room. They say time will heal and half of me believe in. The other half is stuck in a house where I used to be, where you used to be. The other half of me is in front of you, eyes wide open, pale, not moving. Breathing in the toxic smoke surrounding the whole place. You always told me I was ugly when I cried, that I wore too much make up, no, wear more make up. Change, but don’t change. Your expectations were different every day and I could never keep up. Everything had to be about you, your feelings, your thoughts and opinions. All I could hear was your voice in my mind as mine gradually faded away.

 

Who am I? Can someone answer me that? Because I don’t know what’s real anymore. I don’t know if what I’m doing is learned behaviour, if my thoughts are mine or just an echo of yours. I don’t know if I’m insane, or perfectly fine. Am I struggling more than I realise, or am I improving? I’m so mad at you. You didn’t protect me from the demons you let in, whether the demons were in your mind or other people just like you. You’re weak. Now I miss what I’ve never had, and what I can’t have. I can’t relax because I’m used to the uncertainty, the chaos, the pieces falling beneath my feet. I’m stronger than this, I function. I wake up, and I go on with my day just like everyone else. But if I stop for a second and let my thoughts wander, that’s when the whole world stops. I can’t breathe, everyone’s looking at me. I’m failing. I know it’s not true but it keeps happening. Am I sad or happy? Why am I so numb, why can’t I move? Suddenly I’m scared of standing up. I’m scared of turning my head, afraid of what I might see. Look at what you’ve done to me. Do you even understand it? Because I don’t. I never will.

 

I dreamed of starting a new chapter with you. I pictured you and me at a café discussing furniture and house decorations. Listening to other people talk and enjoying the sweet smell of warm coffee. I hoped you would help me to get back up on my feet, maybe even paint a room together. I dreamed of a normal mother-daughter relationship that was never going to happen. Glorified, idealised. I just wanted to feel safe for once. This is what you’re missing out on. I would’ve updated you with my music and aspirations, maybe I would’ve even told you about the horrible dates I’ve been on. Then what I’d need hear would be “you deserve better”, and that I’m good enough.

Maybe one day we’ll talk. Knowing me, I will listen. Knowing you, you will be the one who has the most to say. But for now, I’ve given you enough chances. I’m going to give myself a chance this time.