Dear Mom

It’s been a few months since we became aware of what happened to you.  I still can’t believe that you’re gone and will never come back.  I guess with time I will accept it but it doesn’t seem fair.  Why were you taken from us?  Why didn’t we get to have a mother?  How could someone take away your bright light from the world, from our world?  Do you know how much you are loved and how devastating your loss has been?  It is an open wound that may never heal.

Growing up without you was difficult.  I never quite felt like a complete woman. I wasn’t sure how I could be a mother.  I needed your guidance and love.  I had many woman who have stepped up to help mother me.  Rosa tried to give us the hugs and love you would have given me.  But none of them were you.  They were a mom but not MY mom.

Mom, I don’t think you realize how special you were.  You could light up a room by walking into it.  Your smile was magnetic and inviting.  You were not only physically beautiful but also beautiful on the inside.   In these last few months, we’ve begun talking about you more.   Rosa tells us how you were so kind hearted and forgave anyone who crossed you or betrayed you.  That level of compassion is so rare nowadays, although I see it in Brenda all the time.   

You were taken 11 days shy of your 29th birthday.  28 years old and already lived through more trauma and heartache than some will experience in a lifetime.  Did you feel like you were always having to fight to survive?  Hell, it started from when you were living with Wela.  She may have been a wonderful grandmother to me but she sucked as your mom.  She failed to protect you all from harm in your own home.  She often sided with one of your many abusers.  How that must have hurt you.  My heart breaks for the child you were.  You deserved a mother who would fight for you, not against you and you didn’t have that.   It’s no wonder you turned to drugs for escape.  I would want to escape those memories myself.

You tried so hard to protect your kids from the nightmare you lived.  You warned us of strangers and tried to steer us away from danger.  You showed us how much you loved us all the time.  Even at your lowest, you put us first.  There is no doubt in my mind how much you loved us.  

I hope you know that I have never blamed you for what happened to me.   For so many years, I have carried the shame of that day.  I felt responsible for talking to that stranger and starting the domino effect of becoming homeless and you falling deeper into the depths of drug addiction.  But I now know that it wasn’t my fault.  You had already been dabbling with drugs before I was attacked.  The attack just pushed you over the edge.  Rosa said you never forgave yourself for what happened to me.   You sent me, your young child of 7, to the store alone.  But don’t you see, it wasn’t your fault either.  The only person who should carry the shame and guilt of what happened to me is the rapist.  He, like so many other predators, took advantage of the situation.  How many times before that day had I been out alone?   I cannot forgive you for something I never held you responsible for.  You are not to blame. 

Who might have you become if you had been given a chance to change? The chance to stop using drugs and deal with all of your trauma.  You probably would have helped others to overcome their addictions.  You would have been around to laugh with Brenda and I.  You and Rosa would probably see yourselves in us.  We would have been able to comfort one another when Wela died.  There are so many ways your story could have gone.  

You weren’t able to live your life to the fullest because you were taken from us.  I will live mine to the fullest for both of us.  I will work through the trauma to become a woman you would be proud of.  

I love you mom.  I loved you then and I love you more now.  I will love you forever.  

Love, 

Millie

Love Thyself

Its funny, although mentally, I write a million entries, I rarely transcribe them.  I always think I have time to do it at a later time but I never get around to it.  As forthcoming as I am, there's a certain vulnerability with exposing my thoughts to an unseen audience.  Will my thoughts come across clearly?  Will I be judged for what I think or how I write?  Will someone take offense to what I've written and to what extent should I care about how other's feel? All of these thoughts linger in mind whenever I decide to actually write.  Ultimately, I've decided that I am only responsible for what I think and can't control how its perceived.  I am always open to discussing any subject further with anyone so inclined but I can't let the fear of the unknown stop me. 

With the exception of the tribute to my aunt Rosa in May, it had been about 8 or so months since I last wrote.  I've had a lot of changes in my life in that time.  I attended the Haven retreat mid October and when I returned, I was placed on antidepressants.  This was not my first bout with antidepressants.  About 8 years ago, I was placed on a different one and it really didn't do anything for me, so I stopped them.  This time was different.  I immediately felt like they were helping.  I no longer had the irrational mood swings that I suffered from and my mood was regulated.  It was like being set free.  While my mood swings certainly affected those around me, it affected me the most.  It was frustrating and exhausting to be on a constant roller coaster of emotions.  Whenever I lashed out irrationally, I'd beat myself up.  It definitely wasn't fun for me.  Thankfully, my emotions are regulated now.  This has allowed me to clearly evaluate my thoughts and feelings, which enables me to make changes where I see fit. 

The retreat was also instrumental in my changing my thoughts.  As I expressed in previous posts, the retreat was amazing.  The biggest thing I took away from it, was to be kind to myself.  A simple concept but one that can be hard to practice.  Previously, anytime I made a mistake or didn't do what I "should," I would mentally berate and belittle myself.  On one hand, I knew I was a smart person but was constantly calling myself stupid for small things.  It was on a loop in my head.  The retreat has helped slowed down and in some cases, stop the loop.  The retreat's focus was on positive affirmations and I have adopted the same practice.  If I make a mistake, I can now say it was a mistake not that I am a mistake.  What a difference this has made for me. 

The combination of the retreat and the medication has been amazing for me.  I have realized over the last few months that I like myself.  I like who I am and am proud of how far I've come in life.  There are plenty of things in my life that I am working on changing but I like who I am right now.  In society, we are often not encouraged to think positively about ourselves in general but especially if you're not the right size or color or if you're in the wrong job or relationship.  Self love is a destination, something to be attained once you've reached the "right" goal.  But I disagree.  Self love is a journey.  You can love yourself and still work on making changes in areas that need help.  Why should I not love myself because I'm heavier than I want to be?  I can work on becoming healthy and still love myself.  I am working on becoming healthy because I love myself.  

In a little over 2 months, I am turning 40 and I am looking forward to it.  There are so many people who mourn this milestone birthday but I am celebrating mine with a party to myself.  I've overcome so much in my life and with each passing year, I continue to grow and learn.  I may not have everything I want in life but life is good.  I am surrounded by people who fill my life with joy and love.  Isn't that what life is about?

As always, thanks for reading and take care.