Dear Mother

This letter is not meant to start a conversation. It is meant to close a chapter. I am finally speaking the truth that I was never allowed to say out loud — the truth you ignored, denied, or twisted to suit yourself. This is my voice. This is my healing.

You hurt me. You physically hurt me when I was just a small child. You would hit me with a hairbrush when I couldn’t sit still, and act like it was nothing. You called it discipline. I now know it was abuse. It doesn’t matter how you justified it to yourself — you hurt me. You taught me from the beginning that love came with violence, shame, and fear. And you still refuse to acknowledge the damage you caused. As I grew older, the cruelty continued. When my body started changing during puberty, you chose to shame me instead of nurture me. You made fun of my body, picking apart my appearance at a time when I was most vulnerable. You taught me to feel disgusted with myself when I should have been learning to feel proud and strong.

You didn’t stop there. Instead of building a family where I could feel safe, you weaponized my siblings against me. You enabled them to bully me, to gang up on me, to ridicule me whenever I tried to create happiness or live my own life. You encouraged them to cross boundaries, to invade my privacy, to make me feel like an outsider in my own home. There were constant double standards — they were allowed freedom, forgiveness, and privacy, while I was controlled, criticized, and punished for simply trying to grow into myself. I was treated like an outsider in my own family, while they were protected and favored. You made it clear over and over again that their mistakes were excusable, but my existence was somehow wrong.

You didn’t protect me—you made me a target. You betrayed my trust again when you abused my finances — using my credit card without permission, stealing from me, and acting like it was your right. That betrayal showed me just how little you respected my boundaries, my hard work, or my independence.

And through all of this, you chose to excuse and enable my ex-father’s abusive behavior. You minimized what he did. You defended him instead of standing up for me. You stayed silent when you should have protected your child.

But it didn’t stop there. When I found happiness with someone who truly loved and respected me — my now-husband — you couldn’t stand it. You went out of your way to stir drama, especially on holidays and birthdays, the very times that should have been filled with love and celebration. You gossiped, spread lies, tried to turn everyone against him. You even tried to pressure me to leave him, to destroy my own life just to satisfy your bitterness and control. You didn’t care about my happiness — only about having power over me.

Your emotional neglect made me doubt myself. It made me second-guess my own heart, my own worth, and my right to choose who to love and how to build my own life. What you did shaped me — but it does not define me.

I carried your cruelty like invisible scars for years, believing I was unworthy, believing that something was wrong with me. I doubted myself, my body, my instincts, my dreams — because that is what you taught me to do. You taught me fear. You taught me shame. You taught me not to trust myself. But you don't have that power over me anymore. I see now that the way you treated me had nothing to do with who I am and everything to do with your own brokenness, your own refusal to heal, your own choice to stay small and cruel instead of doing the hard work of becoming better. That was your failure — not mine.

I am healing in spite of you. I am learning to love my body, to trust my voice, to set boundaries that protect my peace. I am finding joy in places you tried to convince me I didn’t deserve to look. I am creating a life built on honesty, respect, and love — the very things you withheld.

I am no longer seeking your understanding. I am no longer hoping for your apology. I am not leaving the door open for more excuses, more denial, more betrayal.

This is my closure. This is my freedom. You no longer have access to me. You no longer get to shape my story. I am taking back everything you tried to take away.

Goodbye.