Letter #6

Hello my dear daughter,

So many painful reflections on your childhood...

If you were standing here in front of me now, I would take you in my arms and tell you how much I loved you, and how much compassion I have for you, my little girl who so often was confused, scared and sad.

I didn’t see that. I didn’t see you, really see you. At times, others told me that they could see your sadness, and I didn’t listen. It was easier to not listen. I am so very very sorry.

Pretending (denial) was how I coped and I pretended that you were doing well.

I was so caught up with your father’s drinking and my obsessions with your sister, that you didn’t get much of me, certainly not the parenting that you needed and had a right to.

I missed many clues, signs that you and your sister were not well: years of such vitriol anger between the two of you; you bullying other kids; not wanting to be left alone with your father; and later choosing an alcoholic as your first boyfriend.

I don’t know if you would have listened to me, but I wish I had told you I was concerned about this boyfriend. Frankly, it was so much easier to deny the problems in our family, and instead hang on to my hope that your father would stop drinking and all would be ok. And sometimes he did, and we all rode this high.

And always he began drinking again, setting off another cycle of despair following hope. I can imagine how crazy making it must have been for you, especially those times that I told you that you are not seeing what you saw.

I understand how much harm it caused.

I needed to be strong, and yet I so often collapsed under the burdens of our family. For many years I just went to bed telling myself that I was only dealing with menopause but honestly it was my life that I couldn’t deal with.

I came to you at night to be comforted - and not when you needed me to comfort you. So many times you listened to yet another fight. So many times you yelled and yelled for us to stop - and cried yourself to sleep.

If I had stood strong, you would have known that you could turn to me for help and advice - or simply lean on me when you needed to.

There were also times that I needed to be strong and stand up to you, to say no when a no was needed.

You learned way too young that you couldn’t trust my judgment nor that could you share your sadness with me.

I am so sorry that I didn’t protect you from you father.

And I am sorry that our sad and serious home robbed you of your playfulness.

I loved you and your sister, but I didn’t show you how to love; nor did I provide strong boundaries so that you would be confident of your own boundaries.

You have had a long journey to healthy love, healing old wounds, and I am proud of the woman you are, and still becoming.

mom