Dear Mom,
Sometimes when I'm alone I can hear your voice. It mocks me. It stalks me until I get so frustrated anyone watching would think I was arguing with myself. If that isn't enough, there is an organ at work. Twice a day I'm reminded of you as the sound eases through the pipes and settles above my head. In these moments I question myself.
You always had a way of making me rethink who I am and what my purpose is. Regardless of what I want I have this uncanny need to seek your approval. Even though certain suggestions you've made in the past have totally backfired.
These instances I cannot totally blame on you because it's not like you put a gun to my head. At the time I was more concerned about you being happy rather than what was best for me. It's just when things went awry you left me on my own to figure it out.
Much of my trauma was created by my need for your attention and/or your approval. All of the choices I absolutely made. However, you planted the seeds without cultivating the soil.
You expected the best of all of us. My movements were more controlled than my sisters' though. Was it because I was broken from birth? The "problem" of your three children. There was always something wrong with me; physically, mentally and emotionally. So you figure if you just suggest what I should or shouldn't do, you can control the outcome.
You were only trying to protect me. I wasn't strong enough to make my own decisions but I was smart enough to figure things out on my own. Oh wait, that was only after I "betrayed" you. Before that you made the choices, covering up if things didn't go right.
All this makes it very difficult for me to make decisions. I spend most of my time debating what would work, pros and cons. And even after I think I've figured it out, I go back to the drawing board to make absolute the choice. It's so damn frustrating.
Your voice sits in the back of my mind saying, "I don't think that's a good idea," like you used to about the majority of my aspirations. Not being able to have definitive answers for the things going on in my life brings me to a high level of annoyance. Knowing that you're sitting somewhere with your quizzical look - down playing anything I try to do from afar.
I truly don't think you know how much control you have on me even though you're not around me. Or maybe you know just exactly what you've done to mess with my brain. Sometimes I think it's all a game, and other times I think I was just an experiment that went wrong and for that was tossed to the wayside.
Not being able to trust your own judgment is the scariest thing for any adult, especially if you're alone in the world. This is my existence. One of the many things I fight with day to day. It would be nice to talk to you face to face about it but I know that will never happen. So I am subjected to writing to you hoping that one day you will find your way to me with some sort of explanation to soothe my confusion.
Until then,
Your daughter
