Running a Marathon

Dear Mom,

One thing I've noticed in my search of "finding myself" is I have been running from ALL my problems. I mean, I run so hard you would think I am preparing for a marathon. It's almost as if I believe that if I run long and hard enough the problems and fears will melt away. However, that is not the case.

In my constant marathon the issues seem to be right on my tail. And every time I slow down, they are hovering over my head mocking my every move. It's completely frustrating especially in trying to be a better person.

One of the problems I run from is the "beef" between me and you.

I figured if I became more understanding of you and your actions the issues would go away and alleviate themselves. I also assumed that if I played the "nice gal" in certain scenarios it would force you to look at me in a better light instead of this person you have to constantly be at odds with.

Instead it seems like ignoring the issues and concerns has caused them to grow at an alarming rate. Also, I have noticed that you take my kindness as weakness and seem to use it against me. You take things that are going on with me and subtly stab at who I am trying to be by using my past as a weapon.

It is truly agitating that no matter what, you will find a way to make me question myself and cause me to run some more. You're like the people that hold water out during a race; almost like you encourage me to run instead of stand and face the things that haunt me. I taunt myself, wondering if you like me better scared and running for my life.

To be honest, I try my best not to think about what you think of me. I try endlessly to push your perception of me out of my mind. I want to stop running but I am so concerned that you won't like or accept who I become in the end. And while I should totally not worry about what you think, I actually do, which sucks.

My marathon has to come to an end some time. My legs are tired and I am absolutely spent. All I want is to deal with the world head on and leave all my faults behind. Something inside of me would rather you stop assisting the run or leave me be. But I don't know if you're capable of either. Maybe one day.

Until then,

Your daughter

Dreams That Unlock Reality

Dear Mom,

I had a dream the night before last. Something had happened to my home so the kids and I came to stay with you and dad. You had kicked me out of the house because I didn't see your point of view about something dumb and wouldn't let me see my children. We saw each other in the street and you acted like I didn't exist. Dad would let me in the house when you weren't around to let me see the kids and spend time with them. I was planning a birthday party for one of the children and you walked in. You were furious but before anything could be said, I woke up.

When I awoke I prayed to Allah for strength. The dream shook me so much that I cried without wanting to. The tears flowed on their own and no matter how I tried to stop them, they wouldn't. It was super emotional.

The reason behind the emotion is this dream was actually a reality. Everything that happened within the dream didn't occur in real life but the main parts did. The kicking me out because I didn't agree with what was going on. The not letting me see my children for some time. The seeing me and pretending I didn't exist.

I had stuffed all of this down in my mind never for it to see the light of day. It's one of the worst things that has ever happened to me and the effects of the situation managed to make their way into my world. It had the ability to completely ruin my yesterday but I wouldn't let it.

You know what I did? Even though I felt like my world had shattered all over again, I realized I couldn't allow this painful memory to effect me the way that it did when it happened. I can't afford to be completely depressed and unable to get out of bed especially in front of my children. I can't afford to question all the mistakes I'd ever made and torture myself as if I was worthless especially knowing that I'm worth so much more.

The one thing that gets me is the betrayal I felt from you. In knowing that we still are not at a level of understanding, I think this is what ultimately saddened me. This dream that was once reality needs to be talked about between us either willingly or forcibly with a professional. I want to talk about it but will you ever discuss it with me?

Until then,

Your daughter

Keys to the House

Dear Mom,

It pained me to find out that I am the only one that does not have keys to the new house. The fact that I didn't know where you guys lived when you first moved 2 years ago saddened me a lot. But I knew at the time you were being seriously hurtful. Now that I actually know and visit at least once every couple weeks, it was a shocker about the keys.

It's really funny, and I mean ironic not hilarious, that my two sisters both have a key. They don't even live in the city, let alone the state. What if something happens? I'm the only one here in the city and I wouldn't even be able to do anything.

The thing that gets me most is that I truly thought we had gotten to a point of understanding and healing in our relationship. Maybe that was just me. Maybe I am so willing to heal old wounds that I chose to not realize that you still have a serious problem with me - your own daughter.

We haven't always gotten along and I get that. However, I still trust you with my home in case something was to happen. I still overlook all the things I feel negatively and try to understand you in order to have a relationship. Neither of us knows how much time we have on this earth, yet you continue to manage to be petty.

I have no idea why it bothers me so much. Honestly, I'm not ever shocked by your antics. I guess it's just that I REALLY thought we were getting somewhere in our damaged relationship. Apparently not. Maybe that will change one day.

Until then,

Your daughter

It's Been a While

Dear Mom,

It's been a while since I last wrote you. Mostly due to not knowing what to say. The last few months have been stressful for all of us, so I figured I would take a break.

You've been dealing with so much. Dad got sick and then I got sick. It was enough to break you. But as usual you kept your cool and made it seem as though everything was okay.

I guess I envy the way you can make a trying time seem simple. Nothing ever seems to shake you while I always feel like I'm losing my mind. You never grimace and always smile in the face of adversity.

Maybe that's where I get my "never let them see you sweat" mentality. Although I'm not as good at it as you. Probably because you've had years of practice.

I know one thing, after such a year of ups and downs you never faltered. I can only wish I could operate the same. You keep your faith strong and I am trying desperately to do the same.

Since things don't shake you as much and you approach it all with a smile, I have begun to admire you more. I just hope one day you'll tell me your secret so that I can be so sure.

Until then,

Your daughter

The Signing of My First Book

Dear Mom,

What you did was wrong. Seriously. I honestly can't believe that you would do something like that.

When I brought the book that dad had paid for and asked specifically for me to sign it, he looked so proud. It made me smile that I could give him that kind of feeling. But of course you messed that all up with your selfishness.

When I asked you did you want a book, you were nonchalant about it, saying, "Oh, I can just read the one dad gets." So I took it as such.

As soon as my first book arrived I wrote inside, 'To Dad. I love you. Thank you for supporting me all these years. I hope you are proud." I signed it, with love. But for you to then want me to put your name inside of it was just beyond what you do.

You haven't supported my dreams of being a writer. You've done nothing but tell me how I probably wouldn't make it.

I tried to ignore you insisting that your name be in my book, that dad bought. I changed the subject and everything. Dad put it up, hoping you would forget too. But you didn't. Before I got a chance to leave you forced the pen in my hand and wouldn't let me go until I put Mom inside.

I wanted to tell you about yourself right then and there but I didn't want dad to have to deal with your attitude once I left.

Did you even notice the look on dad's face? Did you even care how he felt? Did you care that I wasn't willing to add your name? Nope, you just wanted what you wanted and could have cared less what the rest of us thought or how we felt. As you do.

What was the point, Mom? so you could bra about how you always were there for me. Please. You've done the most damage to me, but you never see it that way.

It's okay though, because I'm going to give daddy another book that is just for him, signed just to him, as it should have been.

One day you will see your error. Oh, I hope.

Until then,

Your daughter

Finally Published

Dear Mom,

So, I finally published my first book. But you already knew that. It didn't seem like you were too impressed with my accomplishment. It seemed like you were more appalled with the subject matter.

I know that you always taught me and my sisters to never tell our business and that no one should know what goes on behind closed doors. However, it was so freeing for me to be able to share such a personal part of myself with the world. And it could quite possibly help someone else.

Dad was excited and I expected the same from you. But when you showed no concern to my wonderful news, I wasn't surprised at all. I guess I would have been more shocked if you actually said or acted like you were proud. How could I possibly expect you to step outside of your normal non-caring facial expressions?

Somewhere inside me, though, I really was hoping you would have something nice to say. I was silently hoping you would finally shed the disdain you have for me. I don't know what it will take for that to happen, but I was anticipating that this would be a start.

It rather sucks but I have to be honest with myself that this is you. When it comes to me, you show no emotion to the things I do. It's always odd and amazing how you brag to me about my sisters' accomplishments but I don't even get a "good for you" when I do things.

Do you know how it feels to put your best efforts forward and have a parent totally disregard what you do? Maybe you'll explain it to me one day.

Until then,

Your daughter

Before I Go

Dear mom,

I could have died almost two weeks ago; at least that was what the doctors told me. While dad was really distraught about my condition, you didn't seem to care.

Maybe I am wrong about that. However, the only time you called while I was in the hospital was to see when I would be going home - so I could pick the kids up. It felt great knowing that my kidney was failing and you were upset to have your grandchildren for more than a couple days. Of course I'm being sarcastic.

Your disdain for me is absolutely frustrating. Although you play the civil role, as do I, when we are around one another; I can tell, if I never came around it wouldn't make any difference to you.

That's sad. I mean, really sad.

As my life flashed before my eyes while I was in ICU, one of the only things I thought about was if you were proud. I thought about if you would ever forgive me for all the things I did as a teen. Those same things that you still hold me accountable for at the age of 30. I wondered if you would ever stop being such a prude and just be my mom.

All I ever wanted was a mom. Each one of my friends, both male and female, have an awesome relationship with their mothers. My relationship continues to be broken. And it seems it will remain broken even after you or I passes on.

Knowing this is very disheartening. You would think after the massive cleanup of all my mistakes, being a modestly popular writer and having a brush with death, would be enough for you to behave better. I mean, come on, I'm not a kid anymore and there are only so many times I can apologize to you knowing it isn't enough.

Before I go, at the very least, I want you to know I love you. You may be the most evil woman I've ever met, but that doesn't mean that you are not my mom. I realized a long time ago I would have to accept your seemingly unfair ways. I wonder, will you ever accept who I am?

Until then,

Your daughter

Not In The Same Room

Dear mom,

There has been so much going on and there hasn't been much time for me to give our relationship a lot of thought. I mean, it could have something to do with the fact that every time I open this can of worms, it leaves me sad and a little frustrated.

It completely amuses me that we are not in a place in our lives where we are comfortable being in the same room. I know I have perpetrated some wrongs, as well as you have. Regardless, it boggles the mind that we always have that awkward look in our eyes whenever the other is around.

Like how my back tenses up if you walk in during a conversation I'm have with dad. It's almost as if I can feel your disappointment at the nape of my neck. Your critical stare burns like red coals and I avoid your glance at all costs.

It can't be too easy on your side either. There are times when I unconsciously throw you a scowling glare. There are also times that I roll my eyes so hard at comments you make, I'm surprised they haven't gotten stuck.

The whole thing is weird and rather annoying. For so many years I have been trying to get through to you. Resorting to not speaking to you is the cowards way out. And besides, you ARE my mother and I honestly don't want to cause more damage than has already been done between us. It seems, however, that you like it this way - me wanting answers and you refusing to give them to me.

Eventually you'll come around. I just hope I'm around to witness it.

Until then,

Your daughter

Missing Pieces

Dear Mom,

You know that I love working on puzzles. They're a great way for me to relax and focus. But you already knew that, huh? Is that the reason you liked to do all sorts of puzzles when I was growing up. Did it allow you to get away from the day's work?

Jigsaw puzzles seemed to be your favorite. And when we would go on vacations, you would always have your Variety book full of word puzzles. As you got older, I noticed, that Soduko became your puzzle of choice, along with Mahjong. You loved to do puzzles, didn't you?

I guess that's why I am into puzzles so much. I mean, I did try to mimic you in certain ways. Quietly hoping you would notice the little similarities as I would do the same types of puzzles. Word games are my thing though, crosswords and such.

We do, however, both like jigsaw puzzles. One thousand pieces and above, right? I know. It amazed me when dad let me have a few of your old puzzles to put together that were stored in the basement of the new house. There are so many of them, I didn't know which to choose.

Funny thing is, I have put two out of the three puzzles that he let me pick out. Each one has a piece missing. Not a bunch of pieces in a space or scattered throughout. Just one single piece was missing. It kind of bugged me a little. I started to put together the third puzzle but I got really frustrated and took it apart.

It's rare that I dismantle a puzzle before its completion without trying to retry at my efforts. For whatever reason, the box just sits on the table, awaiting me to try again. Truthfully I don't know if I will. Maybe it's because I'm afraid there will be yet another piece missing.

It pains me that as much as I love to put puzzles together, this time it's hard for me to be up to the challenge. I know it has more to do with the fact that these puzzles belonged to you.

It's not because there is just a piece missing. The New York puzzle I bought was missing an entire corner and it didn't bug me the same way. I mean, it irked me a little but that was because I don't like leaving puzzle incomplete.

I am honestly afraid that I will never be able to put one of your puzzle together completely. Maybe the pieces went missing during your move to the new house. Who knows? But until I finally find all the pieces to at least one of your puzzle, I don't think I will find the same joy in putting any puzzle together; whether it be yours or not.

It's so ironic how you still have a way of effecting me even though we aren't around one another. No matter how much I try to shake you from my system, your rules and your ways creep into my existence. Sometimes I don't know whether to be annoyed or just go with it. You are my mother - by birth at least.

One of these days I'll get back to the puzzle and maybe it will become a beautiful picture of a flowered pathway by a pond - with no missing pieces.

Until then,

Your daughter

Birthdays

Dear Mom,

Birthdays used to be a semi-big thing back at our house growing up. Remember how you used to come to me and my sisters on our special days with a song and a treat for dessert.

We would wake up to your melodious voice serenading Happy Birthday to us. We loved it as smaller children. As we got older, we pretended not to like your singing first thing in the morning, but we honestly did deep down. At least I know I did.

I remember one birthday when I was 11 or 12, you didn't wake me up to Happy Birthday. I thought it was a ruse. No one spoke of my changing of age all day. I chose to keep quiet because I didn't want to spoil the "surprise" I would probably get once the cherade was over.

Once it got late into the evening and I didn't see a cake concealed by an Acme paper bag in a corner like usual; there was no card for me to read; no song for me to hear, I realized that you actually forgot my birthday. It crushed me.

I later informed you of your mistake and you "made it up to me" and vowed to never forget my birthday again. I held you to that.

Now, as an adult, I realize that there was obviously some important reason why you forgot my birthday when I was younger. It's not that big of a deal to me. However, I realized something about myself the other day.

Before my "big day" arrives I tend to make sure everyone knows it. Not so much to brag, I guess. But I do it so that if I tell enough people at least one person will remember. Kind of sad, right.

It was, in fact, my 30th birthday last Thursday. I was honestly determined to do absolutely nothing, but as the day approached I began to drop hints about my day. Well, actually, they weren't even hints. They were more of an outward acknowledgement. And honestly, 30 is a big milestone, especially since I didn't think I would ever see it.

This year, however, I didn't expect you to sing for me as I sort of expected in past years. I did think that you would at the very least acknowledge it.

I got nothing. Totally forgot. Hadn't said a word about it until I mentioned it to you in our 60 seconds or less conversation that we usually have these days. Crazy part is - I didn't care. I still kind of don't.

I mean, it would have been nice if you called as you do my sisters, but I know that is as unrealistic as believing you'll read this one day. One can only hope.

Until then,

Your daughter

Pas De Deux

Dear Mom,

I was wondering if you knew Pas De Deux by Tchaikovsky is one of my absolute favorite pieces. Sitting here listening to it brings back so many memories of you, me and my first child.

When I was young it was cool that you would let me borrow your CDs so that I could enjoy them on my own. The Nutcracker Suite, I honestly believe, I borrowed the most. The blends of string, brass, and woodwind moved me, while the percussion rung within my soul. It motivated me somehow in ways I have only recently discovered.

Before my first child was born, I read that playing classical music while pregnant can possibly increase a child's intellectual outlook on life.  I think I played Pas De Deux, at the very least, 500 times. Leaving it on repeat with headphones sitting comfortably on my stomach.

You don't know how much I wanted to make sure that my child was smart. Smarter than me - to be totally honest. I wanted my baby to be able to figure it out, while getting as much love as she could from me. You were so angry with my decision to have her, I don't think you honestly realize the responsibility I took on.

Now granted I was 15 and I wasn't truly ready for the bold chess move I made because I was young. However, I made a promise to myself that whatever happened my child would be better than me. Aborting her wasn't the answer. Are you still mad that I made that decision for myself? I get that I shouldn't have done what it took to have her, I didn't think that far in advance.However, it happened; and it came with consequences.

I'm sorry I "embarrassed you" by having a baby when I was young. Haven't I made up for it though. My life took that turn and I've gone through a lot. Most of it, without you. I made my choices, but I'm doing okay. I just wish you were around for it.

You won't admit it, but I know you better than you think. I just wait for you to open up. Maybe tell me some things about when you were young. Did you ever feel shunned by your mom at any point? The way you despised me during, and for many years after, my first pregnancy.  Have you ever felt rejected?

Until then,

Your daughter

Nutcracker Suite: In Full Score by Tchaikovsky, Peter Ilyich 

Memoir Material

Dear Mom,

It's a new year which always means new possibilities for even the least goal oriented individual. For me, it means so many new ideas that I can try out.

The other day, a reader suggested that I write a memoir after seeing the content of my letters. I had never thought about it before because, of course, I've never written one. Besides that, I'm not even sure how a memoir is put together. What do you think?

I already know that these letters may or may not rub you the wrong way. If I were to place the feelings that I   have in a book, would that make you even more disappointed in me? Or would you pretend it doesn't exist as you do my letters?

For the record, these letters that I spend so much time writing have given me so much clarity. They have allowed me, thus far, to let go of anger that has been bottled up for so many years. It gives me a voice again, considering you took my voice long ago. Well, not exactly took it, but you smothered it to the point I have to dig for it when I want to really be heard by others.

All of the things I do, especially expressing my feelings for you, is to help me become better. A better mother. A better significant other. A better writer. Most importantly, a better woman. I see myself so much differently than before I started this.

I have been thinking deeply about the memoir idea and will let you know if I decide to go ahead with it. I would love your opinion on it regardless that I know you may not be too happy about it.

Until then,

Your daughter

Symphony

Dear Mom,

I wrote a poem some time ago that I found the other day. It's not one of my greatest verses but it brings back so many memories of you at a younger time. It was a time when you were in your musical prime, teaching thousands of students the love of music.

Watching the way you loved the sounds of the different instruments in a symphony used to make me smile so big and proud. You are the reason that, to this day, when I am in need of relaxation classical music plays through my house.You instilled a love for music that is indescribable.

The poem I want to share with you was inspired at a time when I was listening to a symphony play on the Classical Music channel. The words kind of blurted themselves out onto paper and this is what came out of it:

as the Symphony plays

i think of my mother

she instilled music in me

desire like no other

she taught me the instruments

with their different sounds

she taught me from a little girl

classical is where the love was found

this masterpiece reminds me

of my mother’s youthful gaze

her love for music was evident

that memory I replay

I hope you enjoyed that. There are many other poems that you have inspired me to write, good or bad. What matters most, is not the content but the fact that I allow myself to relinquish harsh feelings and bask in better days.

Maybe one day you'll come see me perform one of these poems.

Until then,

Your daughter

The Beginning of the End

Dear mom,

My last letter got a little deep and harsh. I did not mean for it to come off so rude or antagonistic. It would also seem that I jumped the gun.Maybe if I explained where things went wrong on my end, you can begin to understand my feelings. And just maybe, you will one day share where things started going south with me.

But first I must explain my self-esteem issues. They began with my eye injury. Growing up I disliked being made to go outside with my eye patch. Even if it was only for an hour or so, it caused so much name calling. It was really hard to deal with and since my eye has been messed up since I was 1, there you have it. The older I got the more I was teased. Between 7 and 11 was the hardest, you would never just let me stay in with that thing on; almost making me believe you did it purposely. You knew the kids were cruel.

There were tons of things kids would make fun of me about; my awkward shape, my untamed hair, the cheap clothes, and of course the eye (glasses and eye patches). This was the start of believing I was ugly and therefore unworthy. At first you would occasionally tell me not to worry about it. And I tried, honestly. It was embarrassing as a child, yet as an adult I know all of these things were not to punish me. You did the best you could with me growing up.

Now that you have a better understanding of how I felt about myself at the time, I can explain where the first hit to our relationship happened for me.

Do you remember the day one of the older neighbor boys touched me inappropriately?

Playing outside the house one day with friends an older boy took it upon himself to take my innocence, so to speak. We were all playing one of our made up games. There was the secret teller (the older boy) and the people would individually go to his realm (behind one of the many bushes out front) and bring back a secret for the rest of the group to guess (me and the other girls on the block). You know the typical stuff we made up to pass the time.

When it was my turn to go “get the secret” behind the bush, the older boy told me if I did not let him “touch me” he would make up a bunch of stuff and tell people he did it anyway. If I went in the house, he would still tell everybody. If I stayed outside and let him do it, it would be our little secret. I was about 11 and he was like 14. I did not know what to do, so I did nothing. I said nothing.

He turned me around, pulled his penis out and began to grind on my butt while rubbing my small but developing breast. I just stood there. Stuck, paralyzed by not wanting everyone to know. When I went back to the group I did not have a secret. I made something up. The game went on a little while. About 3 or 4 turns to the “secret teller’s realm” and being fondled. I was afraid to say anything to my friends or go in the house.

One of the girls finally realized that when it was my turn I took a very long time. She caught the older boy in the act. He ran off and I was so happy someone stopped what was going on. I wish I had not been so weak and stopped what was happening on my own. I could have stopped playing, but I was so scared he would make my life with the other kids worse.

Nevertheless, the girl suggested that I tell you and dad. I did NOT want to. This would not be good news. So instead she told my older sister, who then told you and dad. I just stood there watching your infamous eyebrow raise when you heard I was touched by the boy. While you stared me down as we stood in your bedroom, the girls had run down to the boy’s house and told his mother. They came back with a message that this grown woman wanted to talk to me. You didn't come.

My sister and I went down to that woman’s house. We sat there as she told me she could not believe what I was telling her because it was her son. She knew I was a nice girl but she was not going to go against her boy. I said I understood, but at the time I really never got it. My sister walked off and left me. I came back in the house because you put me on punishment for stirring up stuff. My friends found it hard to understand what I did wrong, but I felt like the whole thing was my fault.

Was that not a situation you should have been right there next to me on? You should have been in that woman’s house with me in my defense. You should have told her I did not need to make anything like this up. There was even a witness. You, as an adult and my mother, should have been there for me. You never talked to me about it. This is actually the first time I’m telling you the story in detail, I was too nervous to say everything without feeling sick back then.

This is when it started. The day I began to despise you. It was also the day I realized a bad way to be accepted. It feels good to actually get this out in the open. I hope you are learning more about me and what I think of our retched relationship. There is so much more I need to tell you. I hope you will start to share with me one day.

Until then,

Your daughter

Marriages Go Through Rough Patches

Dear mom,

One thing I've always respected was your marriage with dad. That has changed now that I'm older but I know I was one of the "lucky ones". Blessed to have both my parents, married for 33 years. Two-parent homes are supposed to be awesome, right?

When you "suggested" that I get married I felt it was the best way to make you happy and be a real family - father, mother, child - like you and dad. Of course I already had a child, was 18, and would have rather gone to Berklee College of Music. I wanted to do right by you because I felt I messed up. Besides you told me that going off to school would leave my daughter without her mother. Yet once I got married you thought it best that I live with my husband and my daughter stay with you. (That's another subject for another letter)

The day I walked down the aisle I didn't think it was what I should be doing, but I had to go with the plan. The wedding that I had nothing to do with except picking the colors and the song. The wedding that I was over an hour late for. The "special" day when the ring got stuck on my ex- husband's finger and we had to go to the emergency room.

My marriage was a disaster from the start.

You kept telling me marriages go through things and what went on in my marriage was between him and me. My pathetic need to gain your approval agreed with you without putting up much of a fight. All it led to was being in a mentally, emotionally, and physically abusive relationship for 8 years. The first 2 to 3 years weren't totally bad, but after that it was an utter nightmare. I would come to you with the busted lips and bloody noses.

Your first question would be, "What did you do to him?" Do you remember? Can you see where my tooth tore through my lip. I still have the scar to prove it. When you close your eyes can you see how I cried to you all those times? I needed your help and I needed more than you telling me that 'things would get better but I had to stick in there'.

It took me a very destructive marriage to put into perspective what you could be hiding in your marriage. You always did tell me, "Keep your business to yourself". Did your marriage have rough patches? Have you gone through "things". 33 years is a long time. It took me less time to get out of my cell of a marriage, ironically that was something that seemed to piss you off.

Wouldn't you, as a mother, want me to have a healthy relationship without violence? Wouldn't you want to take me out of that situation? I don't know about you, but I wish a man would lay a hand on any of my daughters. The fact that you still have a relationship with that monster irks me tremendously.

My ex-husband and I are not you and dad, and I honestly do not wish to be like you two. And I also do not wish to be with my ex-husband. Nor do I agree with or accept your on-going relationship with a man who is, even to this day, mentally messing with me.

Your actions are so childish and I honestly don't get it. There is no logic for why you do the things you do to me. Sometimes I wonder if you told me about the rough patches because you wanted me to be punished. That seems very probable.

You will never confirm nor deny the things you were responsible for and had a hand in. It's okay though. Being in such a harmful situation let me know what I would want once I got out of it. I have a more definitive perspective on what I need in a husband. I already know what NOT to do.

Would be glad to give you a list.

Until then,

Your daughter

Tired

Dear mom,

These years have been rough. Only Allah knows what you've been through, he also knows what I've been through. None of us can hide from Him. However, you always come off as if you will not be held accountable. Or is it that you feel that certain things cancel out other things?

Our tornado-style relationship has gotten to a point that I decided I was done. Finished. Kaput. I no longer want anything else to do with the rage broiling inside of us. It became physically impossible for me to give a damn.

Mom, I'm tired.

Many times I've told you I wasn't arguing. So many times I asked you what your issue was with me. Countless moments wondering what was on your mind. Guaranteed moments of misunderstanding and frustration. I'm over it.

This is healing I can only do with you and since you can't quite cooperate longer than 5 minutes I started without you. You never allow me to tell you what I've been feeling and I need to get it out calmly.

I'm so tired of not getting along. Tired of your constant need to control my life. Tired of your opinions that have no leverage in my way of thinking. So damn tired of the high pedestal that you want me to reach, even though I've fallen short numerous times. And definitely tired of that disgusted look you give me when you think I'm not looking.

Aren't you ready to cleanse and build in the time we have left in this world? Neither of us know when our time is coming. I'm already tired, so when I close my eyes for the last time I want to go knowing that I gave every possible intention to honor my mother.

Until then,

Your daughter

Super Ugly

Dear mom,

Growing up, anytime I would do something wrong you said it was "Acting ugly". Almost all the time I heard that I was being ugly or ugly acting. If I said anything "disrespectful", I was being "ugly". The word was also used by so many hateful people in my life about the way I looked - my awkward shape and unmanageable hair. So my actions and my looks became synonymous with each other. I felt and believed I was ugly.

When you are told something enough, it is programmed inside your mind. It reveals itself even when it is unnecessary to come out. Being "ugly" made me hate myself and in turn do things to myself that caused more damage. I was living up to a lie - that I was in fact ugly and unworthy of "pretty" things.

You watched my recklessness, all the while subtly coaching me to hate myself. My problem was, and still is, that I always was who I was. Even when I was trying to be someone else I managed to still show my real feelings and qualities. I used to hate, hate, hate myself and every time I tried to give myself a chance, something else happened to make me hate myself even more.

How does it make you feel knowing that my self hatred started with you? I never thought I was worthy of your love. I always thought I was too ugly. Too flawed. Too broken. Too much of a problem to handle. At least that is how it was portrayed to me.

You'll tell me I don't know what I'm talking about. You'll even tell me I'm kidding myself and imagined the whole thing. Tell me something. Who on earth wants to imagine and create a life with as much chaos and turmoil as mine? Who in their right mind would pretend to go through so many negative and hurtful things? Truth be told, if I could go back there would be so many things I would have avoided. However, you can't change the past and I'm thankful for that.

It took me almost my whole life up until this point to think and believe, with a slither of doubt, that I was actual quite beautiful - in my actions and my appearance. Not because people have told me so but because that's how I feel about me. It took a while to get there, but I did. No help from you of course, but you know what, it's quite all right.

Ugly Duckling syndrome is a hard case to deal with especially if it's deeply rooted in one's subconscious. And while I know now that I am indeed a swan, my beauty was inside me the whole time just awaiting my recognition and no one else's opinion would matter.

Can you imagine the type of growth I've made?

Until then,

Your daughter

Control

Dear mom,

When I started writing these letters I thought I was ready to tell the story. I thought I was prepared to finally let everything go. I thought I was at the point where I could move on with my life, with or without your blessing, I thought I had finally taken control.

I was so wrong.

Time lapsed between letters and there are only five to account for. A truly measly number for the amount of turmoil that has gone on. What's worse is I honestly wanted to just get it all off my chest. It's hard, however, to do that when you have a mother like you.

You have had such a mental control over me. Even though we are never really around each other anymore, your views live on. Your voice lives on - inside my head. "Don't you air your dirty laundry. Don't you tell anyone how you really feel," is what I hear. Sometimes it whispers and sometimes it screams.

I've pretended for years that you didn't have control over me. I fought it and quite frankly, I lost. Even if I won the battle, I lost the war. All you ever needed me to do was flinch and you knew you had me right where you wanted me.

I always flinched, afraid of my next move. That was always the only distraction you needed to hatch some plot or plan to further ruin my life. And I let you, always becoming the scared little girl that you have been able to take advantage of.

Me and you always fought over the keys to my life and all it's done is make us strangers to one another. It has brewed so many negative emotions and actions. It's so sad what our relationship is, was and will be.

I love you because you are my mother. You conceived me and raised me. And if it weren't for your noticeable disdain for me, I wouldn't be half the woman I am today. You have always wanted me to fit your mold but I've never quite been who you wished I was.

Here's the thing: I will always be me, whether you approve or not. And I'm not half bad contrary to the disappointment I am to you. You may think my mistakes in life make me dirty and that's fine. I believe my flaws and mistakes make me better because of it all.

For a long time I blamed myself for everything even your unhappiness with me. I allowed myself to be engulfed with what you would think of me. Even up until this letter, you still had the control where I cared what you thought.

Even though I thought I was ready before, I know now that I wasn't. There were certain things that scared me to share. And however I feel, I don't ever want to be disrespectful or dishonorable. I just want to be honest - for my sake and the sake of so many other women and girls out there.

For that reason I am finally taking control from you. You DO NOT decide anything that goes on in my life. Your job is done. I am grown and proud of who I have become and am becoming. I would love for you to be proud, but I know that is highly unlikely. It's hard to support someone when you are the subject in which they need to get rid of in order to grow.

Can you feel your power weakening?

Until then,

Your daughter

The Beginning

Dear mom,

Honestly, I have been back and forth about us. What our relationship really is. How we truthfully see each other. Where our loyalties lie. When things just went wrong. Who is the one to blame.

To be a total adult about it, I think we are both to blame. It hangs on both our shoulders, however this was noticed by me long ago. I saw the amount of unnecessary hatred that spew between us, forcing those around us to take cover. It was venomous and very unhealthy.

The events of the last few months have compelled me. If I cannot talk to you without blatant disrespect flowing from my lungs, I can only write to you. This way I can tame my tongue and let my words reach out to you. I can tweak and edit if I become reprehensible.

Knowing you, this will only fuel the way you feel about me. Knowing you, the thought of saying what I really think out loud, so I can be held accountable for what you will not forgive me for, will only anger you.

Honor thy mother and father. I want to be your daughter. I want to take care of you as you age. I want to show you the great person I become by what you've taught me. However, the hatred that emits from you makes it hard for me to do what is supposed to be done.

In truly showing respect, I have chosen to stop trying to communicate verbally with you. All it does it cause frustration and arguments. Nothing gets accomplished this way. So maybe if I just tell you how I feel and allow you to read instead of hear, you will take my feelings more seriously. At least this is my hope.

My real hope is by writing out what I think or feel will allow other young women to maybe regain a connection with their mothers. Maybe something I say will mimic their emotions and will cause the lines of communication to be opened for others who battle like we do. Maybe a mother/daughter relationship can be saved if ours cannot.

I can only pray that one day you'll read and comprehend but if not someone will gain from our tragedy.

Love,
Your daughter