hatelijke liefde

het begon met haatgevoelens, maar eigenlijk is het thema meer liefde..

Lees maar, het is al bijna af. Woensdag moet ik het inleveren, dus je kan nog wat aanpassingen aanvragen (dat je het zegt betekend niet dat ik het ook meteen doe, maar ik neem het wel serieus)

Mom,

I’m writing you this letter, because my therapist said it was time.
It’s raining, like always when I think of how my life was the past 23 years. From the day I could think, I knew this life was not the life I was meant to live. But at the same time I knew that I couldn’t do anything to change that. How I know that? Because you told me. “Don’t think you can just do what you want to.” “You are too young to make any good decision.” You said that mom! And you thought I would forget it, but when you’re small, and young, and insecure you only remember the bad things. And you were the only person in my life, so I started to believe it. (Yes dad was there, but all he did was working, drinking, and reading.) And I have always thought that it was just me. I know, it sounds really stupid! But what if everybody would tell you you should become president of the United States? Wouldn’t you believe that after a while? I hear you laughing now, and see you shake your head, and having that look in your eyes that kill me. “You, sweet, foolish child of mine...” they say. And that mom, that breaks my hart over and over again. And for a long time I just said nothing about it, because I knew it wouldn’t help, but today is different. Today is the day of changes mom, and you have nothing to say about that.
It’s time for me to move out. No, let’s say it more clearly for you. More like you would say it to me. Mom, I’m gone. I’m not saying that because I hate you, and don’t want to see you anymore. You know I love you, although you would never admit that, just because you can’t see throught all the clouds of darkness and hatred you have in your own hart. I want to do what is best for me. And for Mike. We can’t live in a house where we can’t do what we want, and where you want to know everything we are doing. Living like that is not bearable anymore for me.
Do you remember when Mike and I went out for the weekend, to visit a friend of mine? I remember how hysterical you yelled at me that there was some more laundry, and that I had to do it, and couldn’t leave? You locked the house, mom. And that was not the first time you did that. I can’t tell you how many times I sat in my room, and cried, and screamed, just trying to cool me down, not wanting to harm you. You make life so difficult for me. I am a good person, and that’s why I keep faithful, and loving and caring. But since I heard other voices in me who are much better than yours, it’s time for me to start my real life. You can’t control it anymore, mom.
It’s hard to write you a letter; just because I know how words can hurt. And although I’m furious at the moment, I try to keep calm, and focus on all the thoughts that are swimming in my mind I want to say to you.
I’m 23 mom! Life has begun for me now. I’m not that girl of 16 anymore, drinking beer in the streets at night, and smoking pot, trying to relax myself in all the chaos of the day before. I know that was bad, and that it must have been a hard time for you. But I notice you keep thinking I’m as bad as I was 7 years ago. I am not the women I was anymore. I started to visit a therapist a few months ago, and she is such a good influence! She tells me I matter in this life. She tells me that I am a loving woman, and that you are lucky with a daughter like me. And I think she is right. And I think she is also right about writing this letter, as a final conclusion about having you in my life.
What she told me too, was that is was better for Mike to go out this place. He is almost 1,5 years old, and you know how difficult he is, you discovered that several times. I never wanted to go away, leaving him behind with you, because I don’t want him to become like me, when I was his age. Now when we are moving out, I can fully focus on Mike, and how I can be a good mother. That’s hard, because I never had an example of a good mother.
I’m so sick of doing the dishes for an old woman, sitting in her chair grieving all day long. I didn’t even talk about that yet. Dad is dead for 5 years now, but you don’t seem to realize that, because you’re still crying everyday. Look at yourself mom! The bedroom you used to sleep in hasn’t been touched since the day dad died. The door is closed for years, and the bright light of the sun hasn’t seen it since then. So didn’t it see you. Grieving can make you sick, and with you, it totally did. Do you think dad would like to see you like this? All you do all day is sitting in your rocking chair, watching the clock, and listening to depressive music. It’s so hard to watch that mom! I know you’ve never been really happy, and that life always has been a struggle, but you never were satisfied with that. You just kept on working, fighting. And that’s why the first 23 years of my life has been such a waist. I was always trying to comfort you, and than trying to hate you, and when that didn’t worked, I tried to run away from you, denying you were my mom. That all didn’t worked. Now I just have to leave the past behind.
Sometimes I don’t understand why my life is like it is. Why do other people have a perfect life, with all the good things life can give? Why the grass on the other side does always looks better, I still don’t know. All I know, is that there will be a spot saved for me there, where the grass is green, and soft, and sweet. And if our relationship wouldn’t be so messed up, I would take you with me. But there is not place on my grass anymore. It’s time to make space free for other people to come in my life, who can make me happy.