katdotcheer

[katdotcheer]

Dear mom,

Growing up, my mom was both my mom was both my best friend and my worst enemy. on one hand we did everything together, we watched my super sweet sixteen, and say yes to the dress together, we went shopping more days of the week than is normal for anyone, rich or poor, and despite being an angsty teenager, i didn’t mind having my mom around and most days looked forward to the days where she would tell me to stay home from school so that we could hang out together instead. But between all the good days, my mom was the only person who could make me feel as bad about myself as she did.  

she would always tell me how much she loved having a daughter, how she loved me more than anything in the world. when i was sick she would say “if i could take your pain away and give it to myself i would” and you know, she was probably dead serious about it. I know that deep down my mother wasn’t lying when she told me how much she loved me, she was always honest in her feelings about me. which is why today i struggle with the other side of our relationship, the part of it where i never measured up to her expectations of me.

In between all the love, i always felt like my mother would never accept me for who i was. the first time i realized that i was less than perfect in my mothers eyes was when i was about 6 years old and she took me to the doctors because she was concerned about my weight. we always argued about how many cookies i could have and i always argued back that if she didn’t want me to eat cookies she shouldn’t buy them, to which i very distinctly remember her throwing up her hands frustrated with me and saying to me “fine, eat all the cookies in the world that you want, but when you grow up and you are fat and no one wants to be with you, don’t blame me”. at the time i literally vowed to her that i would never blame her, and to this day my relationship with food, even though probably psychologically has something to do with her, i cant accept that its all my fault. and this small fight when i was only in the first grade has now brought me into the rest of my life. a life where nothing can be blamed on others, but rather is always my fault.

after that argument they continued into my teen years, like the time she said “that boy hasn’t seen you in years and you look skinnier in pictures than in person so don’t be upset when he doesn’t like what he sees in person” (age 13)

my cousin joking about throwing up a donut after eating it so its okay to eat them, to which my mother replied “yea but the problem is she (me) wont”  (age 10) which made me feel as though my mother wished i had an eating disorder.

her going to my personal trainer and telling him i want loosing weight fast enough even though i had been working with him for 8 months, doing competitive cheer 3 days a week and having gym class 3 days a week and was probably in the best physical shape of my life, but it wasn’t good enough because my stomach wasn’t flat. so she paid 300 dollars on diet meal replacement shakes which didn’t work and made me feel even more like a failure. (age 14)

and my personal favourite when we were arguing about god knows what on the way to school and she said something to the effect “i always wanted a daughter but i cant lie i didn’t want someone like you” -referring to my being overweight-(age 13)

and to this day i struggle with my image, every item of clothes i buy i analyze it through the imperfections my mother would have seen rather than how much i like it. i blame myself for everything even when i know someone has done me wrong, and even though i am in a relationship with the most amazing guy, i still question why on earth he would want to be with me when I’m not a size 2 flawless in every way, because my mother told me no man would want to be with me if i didn’t lose weight, and since the last time i saw her i haven’t. 

i know this statement is relatable to so many mothers and daughters out there, but as I’ve entered my 20′s I’ve realized that most grow closer together as time goes by and those wounds begin to heal. i worry it never will for me because i never got the chance to see if my mom was proud of me. she died when i was 15, right in the middle of most teen girls most angsty phase. so i feel stuck and haunted by my past with my mother, and i worry her negative opinion will always stay with me.

[katdotcheer]

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♛