To my Mommy and Daddy:
Mommy, why do you say you need me? You say I abused you. How many times have you told me that as a child, I was cruel to you? Could I have been reacting to your actions?
And, Daddy, why was I your black sheep? I loved and adored you!
Mommy, why was I the child that you wished that you never had? Daddy, why did I have to beg for my first hug from you on my 40th Birthday? Since we were on the phone, you told me that you wanted to hug me. Yet, you left me forever without the feel of your arms around me.
What does it feel like to be hugged? What does it feel like to be wanted?
I learned to take responsibility for my wrongs. You taught me to protect myself. I thought that you taught me the right ways to act and feel. So, why do I feel like I was your mental and physical punching bag? If I remember correctly, I didn’t have any form of support. My mind was allowed to wander about the world alone.
Mommy, I do believe that you murdered my enabling psychologist father. Upon his death, you only announced that his stream of income was gone. Not once do I remember a tear falling from your eyes. Did you mourn the man that you loved? Or do you know how to love? You said that Daddy did not die in peace because he had an affair. Maybe the coldness of your body and soul sent him into the arms of another. I only ask, why was his dying wish to see me? Was his death-haunted with the knowledge that he helped you ruin my life?
Mommy, why did you offer me your nitroglycerin pills for my suicide as a birthday present? I remember feeling guilty because of running from the pills. Should I have committed suicide to make you happy?
Mommy and Daddy, why couldn’t you have just loved me?
Mommy and Daddy, why did you teach me that I am not to have feelings or success of my own? As your daughter, my heart became a piece of ice. I survived by becoming a shell that lived to keep you happy. I zoned 75% of my life away to hide from the emotional and physical beatings.
Daddy, why did you use your abilities as a child psychologist to convince me that I was a waste of a human being? I worked as hard as I could for success. I lost one job after the other. You helped me to know that success was not for me.
Mommy and Daddy, why did you move a man into our home to rape me when I was only nine years old? Mommy, was it my fault that you lay in your bed at night, hearing and ignoring my cries for help? Mommy, he was the beast, not me. Daddy, why didn’t you help me?
Mommy, why did you shake me as a baby and child? And, Mommy, why did I deserve the constant slams to my face and head? Why did you teach my older brother to beat me in the same manner? Mommy, it was not my fault I was born. And, Mommy, I loved you, I worshipped you, I begged for hugs, and later cried myself to sleep night after night wishing for a real mother. On most days, I suffer from the brain damage you bestowed on me.
Mommy, why is wrong to cry?
Today, I cried. Yes, Mommy, I cried. No longer are you there to beat me for crying. And, when I cried, I learned how nice it is to have feelings. Mommy, why was it wrong for me to cry, have feelings, and want to you to nurture me when I was hurt?
Mommy, no, I won’t feel guilty walking away from you, no matter how old you are, or when you die. Why should I? Did you feel guilty when you were 87 years old and beat me? Mommy, I want to thank you for the deadened nerves in my face that I have to remember that day. As a matter of fact, that was when I declared you dead in my heart. Your response was to remind me that you were only sorry to have never succeeded with your goal of murdering me.
Why did I write the letter, if I never sent it?
As a stream of tears rolled down my cheeks, I realized that what I just wrote was a letter that I will never send to my parents. My father is deceased, and my mother is a malignant narcissist, which means that if I sent the letter, it would only accomplish activating another round of her abuse.
The letter was also written to help survivors know that even on the darkest nights when our souls feel empty and stolen, we are not alone. There is someone that cares, able to help, and is not going to abuse you for saying, “Yes, I was abused.”
As I am a true believer that you never recover completely from most forms of abuse, you can learn to live a very happy life. Time helps. But, don’t be afraid to reach out for help because feelings of doom that sometimes lead to suicidal thoughts become a part of those stuck feelings during recovery.
Never Under-Estimate the Greatness of Recovery
Recovery is possibly the hardest thing that any of us will ever do, which is why I am using my education and life’s experience in my “Unstick” approach to life coaching and motivational workshops to show survivors that your past does not have to rule your future. As your “Life Coach” or “Advocate” I hold your hand until you smile back at me and say, “I love myself, my life, and am looking forward to whatever the future has to offer me.”
Sincerely,
Sandra Speer, Ph.D., CLC, CDRC, Legal Advocate
For 24/7 Support, & to attend our next FREE “Abuse me. Why?” Live Support Group, follow the link to our FB “Abuse me. Why?” Trauma Survivors Support Group.
I am looking
forward to meeting you!
Dr. Sandra Speer, Ph.D., CLC, CDRC, Legal Advocate