Dear... Mom
I’m sorry I didn’t fight and stand up for you. I’m sorry you went through all the abuse that I did too, alone. I’m sorry that because I was so young I didn’t speak up and tell people my story of how my father was abusive. I am sorry that I wasn’t enough in those situations and instead of being strong I wanted to kill myself. I just hate myself for it.
Everyday, non-stop, the name of my father runs through my brain... the first three numbers of his number pop up everywhere. When will it stop? Wasn’t you calling me a slut and crazy and telling me you wished I was never born enough? Wasn’t throwing marbles at me and then laughing and telling me to grow up enough too? Or how about your son molesting my sister? How about all the times you made my mom uncomfortable and who knows the things you did to her. I hate it. Who could do such things?
I tried and tried to express myself and what was going on but all I did was get quiet in court and cry with you to the point where i couldn’t breathe and would run and hide. Doesn’t that say a lot when your own daughter doesn’t want to see you? I was scared of you. Your eyes and how you used to watch mom on the couch while you slept in the bed. How my sister had to lock her bedroom door and sleep with a bat by her bed because of YOU. YOU caused this, you caused this much pain. Sure, you may have it in writing that you won the court case or that you have "partial custody" even when you haven’t made contact with me in 3 years. How does it feel?
When you go to work and you fake the man you are and you bluff and hide behind a fake facade. Just know that one day you will have to own up for all the misery and pain you caused every single person. Not just me and my story, but all the people at work and all the people in the past. I hope you suffer and can feel the empty and numbness in my heart because of you.
I didn’t have a normal childhood. I didn’t get to giggle and laugh with my dad. In conversations I would have to laugh everything off because I didn’t have a dad that loved me and cared for me. I had an abusive father and being a ten year old at the time and you screaming at me and telling me not to tell the police what you did. Did you really think I was gonna say anything?
I hate you, I hate you so much. The pain I feel, the tears I’ve cried, the misery you put me through. You took that light out of me and smushed it in some of my brightest times when I had a lot of friends and a good life. And you made your own daughter hide from you and then scream at me while a friend was in the car. Let’s not forget that I had to cook for myself at 11 and 12 years old with a stove. There was no food, no shampoo, and even when I went to take a shower I was scared to come out because of you. Ugh, I just hope you feel the pain I did and still feel to this day.