There are plenty of reasons to beat yourself down when you scrutinize your own work, but it is absolutely unnecessary. Lighten up.
Hello mother, and welcome to the final words you will ever receive from me outside of a courtroom. This will not be short and sweet, and it will be as unpleasant as being raised by you was. I will not be tiptoeing around your feelings, nor will I be going lightly on the brutal realities you forced me to endure; just as you beat me with your fists and anything else you could use against me, I shall be using my words here in this final letter. You may never get the chance to read this, but I hope you feel my resentment through your karma.
My First Memories of You
I can't recall a time where you and my father were actually on good terms, though I wish I could because all you've ever done is feed me slander and stories of his past mistakes; you never handed me the truth that you're a frigid bitch who regularly abused him just as much as you'd go on to abuse me and the rest of the immediate family. Luckily I went on to find out and realize this all as an adult, and the curtain of illusion you placed over the truth was violently burned down. However, there never was a veil on what I could observe of my own experiences, and that's the first thing I'd like to talk about.
Even my earliest memories of you are soured by your unforgiving impatience with everyone in your life. You won't remember, so let me help you recall the day you went on a date with my soon-to-be stepfather and left me with my chain-smoking grandparents, as you so often did. This is my earliest memory of our relationship that would only continue to go downhill.
You had called my grandparents to let me know that you'd be there soon, and you wanted me ready as soon as you got in the door as if it would inconvenience you to spend more than two minutes talking to your own parents you pushed your kid onto. I was fully dressed and ready the second you walked in the door, but being a small child I thought it would be funny to hide under a sweater-vest and pretend to be asleep. Do you remember that pissing you off, leading you to state, "I don't have time for this, let's go," as if you didn't inconvenience everyone else so you could go entertain a bipolar dickhead?
You pulled me off the couch I was hiding on by my arm, causing me to almost fall to the ground as you pulled me to the car. A few minutes to entertain a child's fantasy and have a laugh was all you needed to offer, instead you offered a wound that left a scar. A scar that I attach to my next memory of you, and that memory is of your stupid wedding pictures at that public park.
I bet you remember that day as something so nice, and so centered around you as everything always had to be, but I remember that day as me crying because I was forced to stand in a suit and shoes that chafed. I don't think I was in any of the pictures, or at least there weren't any in the photo albums with me in it, and that was most likely because you had grammy and poppy spank me over and over again for crying about the suit and shoes chafing my skin.
What a wonderful way to start off a marriage with a man I barely knew, one who would later try to strangle me to death because I hit his son for punching me over and over again; I'll never forget you saved me for him and your sake, not mine. I could go on and on with these early memories, like the party night at that big place where I was separated from you all night, scared and left alone with poppy's dad as we cut balloons off their strings outside. You never cared about anyone, but you regularly accused my father of only caring about his public appearance, a trait you both shared.
You Never Considered My Feelings
Erin cropped out you and Armando, unfortunately, but she kept this because she thinks I look really cute in my formal wear. You didn't think I was cute, though, you thought I was a sweet little toy for you to flaunt to all the other adults around. Can you even remember what was happening when this photo was taken? No, you can't, but it's okay because I remember it vividly.
Armando was sitting on one side of me doing some stupid duck sounds in my face trying to get me to smile, and all I could smell was his disgusting oily skin and stale breath. Aunt Jackie was the one holding the camera very nearly yelling at me because I was too uncomfortable to smile. You were on the other side of Armando making sure that you were smiling and looking happy, which is in direct contrast to the anger being thrown at me from all three of you.
Can you not see the pain and fear in my eyes? No, you idiots only cared about giving off the image of a happy family rather than presenting the reality of tearing my life apart for your own comfort. I began crying shortly after this, and even did so again later when you all yelled, because they delivered the food and I wouldn't eat it, because it had mayonnaise and tomatoes. You'd have known that prior had you asked, or even better had you not let everyone else raise your kid for you.
This will be the shortest and most concise section I offer you, as you deserve no less than my full, unbridled wrath. Which leads me into my next point of discussion: The method of production for my unending, unarguably justified hatred for you.
I Still Feel Your Fists Against My Face
Did you know that I have PTSD from the regular beatings and torture sessions you put me through? No, you didn't, because you regularly claim, "That didn't happen the way you remember it," or, "No one ever abused you."
Even as Erin witnessed you abuse Shaun, Mikael, and Armando every single day—every single day—you'd still cling to innocence as if you were some type of all-knowing saint sent to dish out punishment. Delude yourself all you wish, but it cannot stop me and Erin from revealing the truth to everyone. Do you really not remember the things you have done to me, are you really that much of a psycho, or is that just another one of your manipulations? It doesn't matter either way, because I'll make you relive it as I do.
Sometimes I'll be sitting and thinking about something nice when all of a sudden I see your hand coming towards my face, and my adrenaline begins to pump just as it connects only for me to realize it was a flashback. Every now and again I hear you and see your face telling me how you hate that I look like my father. On exceptionally special occasions I get to be thrown to the ground by you, your screaming deafening my ears, and your spit falling into my mouth.
One of my all time favorites is me begging, "Please, stop! Please!" as I hide beneath a blanket and you continue to smack and punch me as I cower. Even better when I trusted you after locking myself in my room to escape being beaten, and you promised me, "I won't do anything, just open the damn door!" only for me to do so and have you immediately tackle me and start beating me. A child of not even twelve years-old, and you abused my trust to those ends; you're a sick and twisted bitch.
When I'm lucky and in a good mood, I don't see these things as if they are reoccurring anymore. This peace is getting more and more abundant as time goes on, I release all connections to you and the family, and I hope it haunts you to know that as your life fades away so does any control you still have over me. What is that like, anyways, to be so narcissistic you can't even bring yourself to recognize your child's suffering, let alone apologize, as your life is drained by a disease?
I Owe You Nothing
Some people see my resentment for you as out of place, mostly because the traditions of older generations as they concern family are moralistic and uneducated, but you know deep down that you deserve worse. As you waste away from MS, trying to put off the inevitable despite the futility, dragging your entire family down with you, I want you to know that I watch on from the sidelines with the deep sense that justice is occurring. You poisoned my universe, and as I cleanse it of your poison so do you become more and more ill.
I can still remember all the times you asked me, "Do you hate me?" and I responded over and over again that I didn't, because I was scared of the beatings I would receive if I said yes. Even funnier to me now would have to be thinking about all the times you asked, "Are you going to take care of me when I'm old and immobile?" and I told you no, because you have Mikael for that. When you retorted that I don't care about you to spite me, the thing is that you weren't wrong, I really don't care about you outside of ensuring you are brought to justice.
I owe you nothing outside of delivering the justice everyone else is so afraid to bring upon you. There is no human in my life that is more deserving of the fate you've chosen than you, and the sweetness of that karma manifesting itself is a nourishing water for my ongoing success. Who would've thought that the story of The Giving Tree could take such a drastically dark turn in our retelling of it, eh?
As you beat me into PTSD, berated me into body dysmorphia, and isolated me from a loving and forgiving world, so now do I—and the universe—drain your every last bit of life until you become the dead husk so accurately representative of your inner world.
Maybe in Another Life
I know you are in the grips of an existential crisis, your paranoia about death is eating away at you just as fast as your MS, and I would never want to deprive you of that suffering you so deserve, but maybe in another life or universe you will be a better mother to me. If you were a better person, a real mother, you know damn well I would never have these feelings. I'm only this way towards those who seek nothing but to be the cause of others' suffering, and you thrive upon the torment you so willfully hand out.
In lieu and spite of you I have found more than you ever let me dream of, and I hope that you will have learned a valuable lesson from this iteration of life's cruel processes. Upon your ever-encroaching and inevitable death I want you to know this: All is forgiven, but my hate for what you have done to me will never die until you prove that you are no longer evil.
Kyler J Falk (author) from California on October 26, 2020:
You did for your children what your parents could not do for you, and that is a beautiful thing. I'm not the type of person to believe that forgiveness for your enemies is necessary in any way, so I fully understand not forgiving your mother. My forgiveness is a double edged sword in which I recognize that she is mentally ill and refuses to seek help, so I forgive her for what she has done but I'm never letting her in my life again.
I hope you have a wonderful day as well, Zulma! Stay the wonderful and strong woman you are, and thanks for reading!
Zulma Burgos-Dudgeon from United Kingdom on October 26, 2020:
I think your mother and mine might have been twins.
You're a better person than I in that you at least found it in your heart to at least forgive her. I simply cannot forgive mine.
If nothing else, I feel I've been a better parent to my kids than she was to me. They're grown now and have lives of their own, but they stay in touch, stopping by for Sunday dinner, texting and such. They've even included me in their games nights. If I'm honest, sometimes I envy them. They're content, confident in themselves, and have parents who love and support them. Everything I always wanted growing up.
Despite the rough start, I think we've both turned out all right. You have a great day, Kyler.
fran rooks from Toledo, Ohio on October 23, 2020:
Kyler, great attitude! Relish your family now.
Kyler J Falk (author) from California on October 23, 2020:
Thank you, Fran, my family is definitely a great source of peace and motivation. As you say, despite the horrible treatment I have suffered it taught me exactly what not to do to a child. I feel as if I have a keener sense for the finer nuances of a child's experiences because of what I had to endure.
Things are looking up for me, for us, and I believe that all will be more-than-well as we progress into the future.
Thanks for reading!
fran rooks from Toledo, Ohio on October 23, 2020:
Kyler, I am so sorry you endured so much in your young life. I hope you can allow yourself some peace now with your own family. I will never understand how parents can be so cruel to their own children. You are better able to raise your own now and teach love and respect. Sending good karma to you.