I hurt you, and you hurt me.
The cycle. The cycle that existed before us. I wish you had stayed with me, Mom. All this time. Underneath all the anger and resentment I felt. It was missing you. You weren't there. I felt jealous and resentful because you seemed to want them and not us. That we didn't matter.
But it's okay, Mom. I'm learning to love me now. In all the ways you couldn't and didn't. All the ways I felt alone, I don't have to anymore. Because I learned that I could be here for me. I never knew that.
I'm learning to let go of the shame. The feelings of inadequacy.
I was scared to try and talk to you about it. You tended to shut things like that down. And how I yelled at you when dad died. All that pent up hurt came out. Because I was trying to pretend I was okay. And you thought that what you did was right and okay, but it hurt me, but I thought you wouldn't hear me.
You felt like they needed you, but Mom, I know the truth. You lied. And you punished someone. And then, it punished us too. Because you left us. You left me. You chose those kids. And they were worthy kids. But. Mom. I was worthy, too. It hurt me so much to feel like I wasn't a priority to you. Or to dad.
But, Mom, I'm going to be okay. I'm not okay today. But I'm going to be. Because I don't have to resent you anymore. I don't want to. What you did hurt me. And I hurt other people with my hurt. Even though I didn't mean to. I grew up thinking I was less than, I wasn't desirable. I wasn't good enough.
But good enough is a lie. It's a myth. There are no good or bad people. Just people. Humans. And we make mistakes. And you made mistakes. I forgive you for the mistakes you made, and I loved you so much. I wanted you so much. I felt like you didn't want me. Didn't care about me.
It doesn't matter now. Because I care about me. I love me. Even if it feels like a lie sometimes. I love me. I love the little girl you left behind, and I love the man I've become and am growing into.
I love me, Mom. I wish you were here to see it. I miss you. I love you. I always did. I always have. And I'm sorry. I could have been a better son.
