my-personal-brain-dump

[my-personal-brain-dump]

If someday the moon calls you by your name don’t be surprised, because every night I tell her about you.

[my-personal-brain-dump]

I admire people who could’ve turned cold after everything they’ve been through but still chose love anyway.

There’s strength in that.

[my-personal-brain-dump]

Ten years from now, make sure you can say that you chose your life, you didn’t settle for it.

~Mandy Hale

[my-personal-brain-dump]

This started as a poem on my tumblr board, but as I got typing I couldn’t stop. Now it’s a letter to you. Whether you ever read it or not, I’m not sure. I am sure that I need to get it off my chest, so I can move on and be a better mom than you will ever be.

You may have given us life, but that doesn’t give you the right to manipulate us. We did not ask to be here, but I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure we get the life we do deserve.

We grew up under your manipulation, and for years and years we believed in you and stood by you no matter what. It didn’t matter whatever you had done, or whatever we went through, because you were our mom and we loved you. After everything that’s happened in my adolescent years, I honestly thought our bond and relationship was growing and strengthening these past few years. I hate to feel as though I have been completely betrayed but you, yet again. Though this time is different. This time you betrayed my babies, and it will be the last time.

You don’t seem to see mine, or Donovan’s, point of view in the events that have taken place in our lives, individually and/or as a family?

I went through so much trauma, my entire brain chemistry is completely off-balance. I have a mental disorder that is literally because of all the trauma. Yet you still have the audacity to sit there and tell me my childhood wasn’t shit.

When we go to try to talk to you, or tell you anything you literally turn it all around. “Yup I’m a fuck up mom” “Sorry I fucked up” “I went through x,y,z” “you telling me we didn’t do fun things” or my all time favorite “that didn’t happen”.

You sat on the phone wanting us to sit there and relive everything we went through so you could understand? You sat there on the phone basically telling me that ��if I had spoken up sooner” about Fred, “it’d be a different story”. How insensitive can you be to someone else’s TRAUMA. Doesn’t matter how big or small you NEVER blame the victim, and you NEVER try pushing to talk about it.

The part I can’t fathom is: We have lived our entire adolescent life with you, and we have to “remind you” of “what was so horrible in our life”, but I guess that’s what happens when your mothers a manipulative narcissist that only cares about herself.

High school was our breaking point, and you blame me for all of the bullshit and fighting. It was all my fault. I couldn’t just “listen” or “behave”. I couldn’t just be a “good kid”. I was “out of control”, “disrespectful”, and “dramatic”.

Except that is all a lie. I was a damn good kid, who was growing her back bone, and down putting up with her manipulative narcissistic mother. I went to school, I was in clubs, I played sports, I played instruments, I volunteered inside and outside of school, and I graduated with a 3.8 GPA.

But you still fought with me every day, and I’m not talking about me trying to sleep at my boyfriend's house because that’s always your go to. Because you blame that ONE fight on why I ran away that night. Even though I had already “ran away” before that, and the only reason I came back was because of Tyler, and over the years I’ve realized he is just as much of a manipulative narcissist as you are.

Everything in my adolescent years led me up to my suicide attempt. Though you just blame that on Sherainah, and me being a dramatic teenager. You never actually stopped to think about why I did what I did that night. You didn’t want to blame yourself or the events in my life, so you found the first and easiest thing you could try to manipulate to put the blame on. Except I knew the truth of why I did what I did, you just didn’t want to listen and we never talked about it. Avoidance was, and still is, our go to coping mechanism. It’s how you handled everything, just avoided it until it either went away or exploded.

I remember being suicidal in sixth grade. Yeah, you read that right SIXTH GRADE. So many of the kids in my class knew, and some even tried to be there for me as much as they could, but none of us knew how to handle it. No one could understand or process what I was telling them about the life I had/was encountering. I mean how could they, at that age you just kinda assume everyone’s homelife is the same, and their life wasn’t my life. I was 11 years old and already felt dead and alone.

Why, though? What could possibly have caused an 11 year old to feel that way? Honestly, I can’t tell you. I can’t pinpoint where, when, or what caused me to feel the way I did. Was it one certain event? Was it the accumulation of all the events? I can’t tell you. I can only tell you how I felt.

My suicide attempt was hopefully going to relieve me of my pain, hurt, and suffering. The only thing that stopped me from trying again was the look on Donovan’s face. He needed me more than I needed to escape my pain. He needed me to continue to protect him.

All my life I remember doing whatever I could for Donovan. I never wanted Donovan to grow up how I did. I never wanted Donovan to feel the way I did. I wanted the best for him, because he deserved it. I didn’t care about myself. I don’t ever remember a time that I did.

Even after my attempt you didn’t care. I was just a “problem child” at this point. Avoidance was your answer, and within FOUR months I moved into Aunt Connie's. Mind you at some point in those four months I spent like a month or longer at Rebecca’s.

I’m not going to sit here and relive everything I went through for you to “hopefully” understand, because you never will. You will never see it from our point of view. You will never actually and sincerely apologize for the way you have treated us, and it doesn’t matter anymore.

I don’t care about what has happened to me in the past. I can repair the damage to myself. You want to hurt me, go ahead. It doesn’t affect me anymore. However, I will not allow you to affect my child’s lives!

There are consequences for your actions that you have taken. I'm done hearing “when do I get to be happy” “when do I get to do what I want” because you have your entire life. You never once put us kids before yourself.

As a mother, I don’t care if my kid is a newborn or 78 years old. I’m always going to put them before me, because that’s what you do as a mother!