Client Journal: Dear Mom Letters
Dear Mom,
I hate you and I love you. I hate you because I feel like I’m not good enough for you. I try to please you all the time, act how you taught how to act, polite and nice. I smile a lot, pretend that nothing is wrong with me because I don’t want you to worry, I don’t want you to get upset, I don’t want to stress you out. But inside I feel like crying all the time. I put so much pressure on myself to be the perfect daughter for you. Make the grades you want me to make, do the activities you told me to do because you said they would help me in life.
But inside I’m hurting Mommy. I’m hurting because I’m not perfect. I’m hurting because I don’t always make the grades you want, and I don’t like some of the activities you want me to do. Like tennis, I hate tennis! I think its the stupidest sport ever! But I tried to do it, because of you! I try so hard to be everything you want to be. I try so hard to be like you. And I never say anything because I’m scared. I’m scared that you don’t love me for me. I’m scared that you won’t ever.
Dear Mom,
I make myself small around you, and I feel so sad and hurt that I do this to myself so that you will love me. So that you will approve of me. It makes me angry! That I would rather live for you than for me. I feel so angry, because I feel like you know this, but let me do it just so I can be like you. I feel angry because you told me the smell of gas gives me an allergic reaction and I pretended that it does just because I thought it would please you! I feel so angry that I faked a sickness just to be close to you! It hurts because I care about you, but the fact I care about you more than myself makes me hate you and it makes me hate myself. It makes me hate myself a lot. And that makes me feel very very sad that I hate myself so I can try to win your approval.
Dear Mom,
I had a good dance class today, and even though I was proud of myself and I feel good about it, I feel sad. I feel sad because I know that if I tell you about it, go into details about the combination, how I felt doing it and how much fun I had with my friend I know you would just dismiss me, change the subject, say “Oh. That’s nice.” And talk about something else. Because that’s what you always do when I talk to you about something I love and that I am passionate about. It hurts me and it makes me sad that it is so easy for you to dismiss me.
Dear Mom,
I spend a lot of my time and energy trying to be just like you. Some of the things I get from you I like. I like that I have good intuition, but like you, I try to ignore it, pretend it doesn’t exist or call it paranoia. I like that I have strong opinions and points of view on different things, but like you, I remain silent most of the time. Like you I tell myself that my ideas, my viewpoint isn’t important enough, right enough or interesting enough; that I’m not right enough, important enough or interesting enough to be valued by anyone. Not even myself. I like that I inherited your coca-cola figure, but like you I spent a lot of my time hiding it behind baggy clothes because I felt ashamed to be a woman. Like you, I want to be in love and loved by a man who knows how to romance me, take me out and give me gifts and flowers. And like you, I settled for men who were cold, distant and ambivalent towards me, who lied to me and disrespected me, because I don’t think I am worth more than coldness, ambivalence and disrespect. It makes me feel sad and angry that I take on your pain and your hurt. It makes me sad and angry that I call my own pain and hurt, it makes me mad as hell that I have to learn without you how to truly love myself, how to treat myself, how to respect myself and how to surround myself around people who will mirror those things back to me. I am mad Mom, that it is such hard fucking work for me.