Thread: Letter to My Mother

My teacher had us all write a letter to our mothers. After turning this gem in my teacher suggested I needed to talk to a counselor. She shouldn't have asked me to write it.

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Mommy,

I don’t think you understand just how much you mean to me. You’re the person I look up to, even when I’m who you look up to. You’ve told me endless times that I was more the parent out of the two of us, and then you’d cry about all the mistakes you’ve made. We’ve all made mistakes, mom.

When I found out about you doing drugs I wanted to crawl up under a rock and hide. I was afraid of what people thought; how selfish of me. You needed help and I was worried about my reputation. I can remember one morning waking up for school and you not being there. Grandma’s car was gone, and so was my Play-Station. I was so angry at you, only because I couldn’t play the Sims after school.

I think I started realizing that you were in trouble when I found you on the couch passed out with coffee spilled all over you. I shook you, and shook you and you didn’t wake up. I cried for hours sitting there beside you, thinking you were dead. When you woke up, you yelled at me. Then, I knew that the person that yelled at me was not my mom.

I was angry at whatever was consuming you little bits at a time. I was jealous of the drugs because they were taking my mom away.

I was oblivious as to how you got the drugs. I never saw you leave, and I never saw anyone come to the house. But, I know you got what you needed. You were always so paranoid; looking out the windows and sitting at the door with a butcher knife in your left hand and a bible in your right. Like God was going to help you kill who ever was going to come into the house. You didn’t want anyone taking what comforted you.

And I’d sit on the steps and watch your eyes dart around the room, but I’d be completely invisible to your vision because I wasn’t what you were looking for.

I like to think that God sent you to prison, but the more I think about it the less I think God had anything to do with your time served. The devil had you in his hands then.

When you got out you stayed clean for awhile, but you couldn’t stay away for long.

People would ask me where my mom was and I’d make up some excuse like she’s taking care of work, or that you were with family. I started to like you less and less, because you weren’t you anymore. You didn’t smile, and you didn’t laugh.

You were always crashing, you couldn’t stay high long enough. You’d have spasms driving me to school. You’d jerk and shake so bad you would have to pull over and get a fix before starting up the car again.

Now your arms have scars, but you told me they’d fade with time. You look like my mom again; rosy cheeks, alive eyes, and you smile and laugh, too.
Everything you did only made me who I am today, and I love you even with your faults. I’m proud of you.

Always, Kasey

Awwwww...gosh kasey.....I am crying.

Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make anyone cry

Glad you are writing about. It helps.

omg i never knew it was like this and im your best friend
kasey im crying
i dont know what to say but this os really good
these are the kind of things i write
about my life

Glad you are writing about. It helps.

Yeah, writing does help.

omg i never knew it was like this and im your best friend
kasey im crying
i dont know what to say but this os really good
these are the kind of things i write
about my life

Mmm, I don't really like talking about it. But, everything comes out easier on paper.
Thanks.

I was told by my psychologist recently, that it is easier to understand your feelings when you write them down on paper and read it out to yourself. Maybe this too could be a way for your mother to come to terms with her problem, and to realize that she is so lucky to have a daughter like yourself who is there to help her get through it - no matter what it takes.

Kasey, you're right, this is a "gem". It's beautifully written and very moving.

Hats off to your mother, she's done brilliantly.

But, even more praise to you: speaking as someone who's had to get her son to help a lot (due to MS), I know how tough it's been for you. Your ability to understand and sympathise is, for me, a breath of fresh air and your mum has been blessed to have you.

May you both know better times in the future.

Love, Virginia

P.S. I don't think you need a counsellor, I think you could be one!

I think Virginia is right about the not needing a counsellor.. I think if you can write something like.. something, if I may, as beautiful as that.. about such a subject as that then you obviously can deal with it..

You're a star

Chris

But, even more praise to you: speaking as someone who's had to get her son to help a lot (due to MS), I know how tough it's been for you. Your ability to understand and sympathise is, for me, a breath of fresh air and your mum has been blessed to have you.

I'm sorry, I know it is tough to have MS. I know a man who has it and he can't do much of anything outside, or inside for that matter, without getting sick. You have to be incredibaly strong.




Thanks for the kind words from both of you.

Teachers can be absolute bitches, sometimes.
I really liked reading this letter, I think it's got some real charm and genuine emotion to it.

Teachers can be absolute bitches, sometimes.

Agreed.


Thanks, C.Gholy.

Very moving. Like everyone has said, writing helps a lot. I have to do it all the time. I'm glad you shared this.

Thanks, Angel.