a letter to my previous owners

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

Ever wanted to lay it all out to the people who raised you? To tell them life from your side? I was tired of being unheard and silent about myself, my thoughts, my feelings, my dreams and how I saw their roll in it all. So I did just that. This is a letter to my previous owners AKA my parents.

Thank you so much for the things you have given me in life (sincerely). I know that there is much I do not know about you as people or about hardships or struggles you may have faced in life yet even if you had these in life you provided me with an upbringing where it was unknown to me. That is a big feat I am sure. Your letter was a wonderful summary of my life and all that you provided me. However we have lived very different lives in parallel to each other. So this letter is an introduction to the girl who lived under your roof for all those years. I know if was very important to you to be parents and not my friend and now that I am an adult that has not changed, you are still just that, my parents. Thus I do not think you ever really got the chance to know me as a person, an individual. I know that much of what I feel, the ways I saw things and how I internalized events in my life are part of me and are in no ways your fault. I know that is exactly where your mind will go but nothing in this letter is about fault or blame.  You did a very good job instilling in me to respect authority and to not question it, as I am shaking while writing this because I know it is not what you want to hear. I have to commend you on doing such a good job that the very thought of speaking my truth to you or anyone makes me shake inside. From you to bosses to men verbally assaulting me, any time I stand up for myself I shake. This letter is not about blame for fault it is simply me telling you about my life, from my perspective. This letter is not me being quite, obedient and staying in my place. I have spent most of my life trying to make you happy, trying to be what and who you want me to be while still fighting to be myself. This letter will contain things I have held in for so long, but I am sick of holding, I have spent years working on healing and I have come a long way and I think for my personal continuation of healing I need to air this out. So this letter is more for me than it is for you. You can choose to stop reading right here, that is up to you, for me just writing this was therapeutic. In order for this letter to be anything to you besides anger at me for speaking up, you need to really listen. Listen in a way you never have in your entire life, not to me anyway. This letter is not sugar coated, as that is just not something I am good at. I am sure it will be far to blunt for you, but that is who I am and how I talk when I am passionate about something or even when I am stating facts that are less than rosy. It is who I am, it is who I have always been and it was just so deep in me that you could not slap it out of me no matter how often you tried. You said you wanted communication, you have always talked at me, never to me and completely the opposite of with me. So you will have to excuse me if I am not so good at communication.

I truly do appreciate all the assistance and financial help you have given me over the years. I really do appreciate all you did for me in life. I never wanted to need so much from you in my life, for many reasons, but life does not always go as planned. Sadly the simple-ness of life in your letter is just so far from real life.  I understand if you want to live there, in the simple life your letter portrays. If you never want to speak about any of this I am fine with that. Our relationship can go on as it always has. If you stop here that is fine we can pretend this letter never happened, if you read the whole thing and still want to go on as we always have as if you know none of this, that is fine. Like I said this letter is more for me and my healing and moving forward in life.

The foundation of my childhood was make sure everything you do and say and the way you do and say things, pleases the parents, because it is all on me, and their happiness is all that matters. Mother went from happy church lady to fire in her eye slapping machine in .2 seconds. I see this in myself. I hate that I have a hair line trigger but it was the earliest and longest example I had in my life, and as hard as and as long as I have be trying to rid myself of this trait it runs deep.  I remember when I was young and something I said or the way I said something would upset mother, then slap slap slap and some angry words from her, then dad would come to talk to me to explain to me how what I had done or said was why mother was mad. From a young age I was walking on egg shells as to not upset this delicate woman, from a young age I had to try and figure out how to express myself but only in ways that pleased the parents. From a young age I was held accountable for the feelings of another. I know that at least mom’s mom did this to her (and still holds this power over her), maybe all your parents did it to you.  I know holding me accountable for your feelings may not have been intentional, and this will be hard for you to hear but it is very damaging to make a child feel like it is all on them to ensure another’s feelings are held above themselves. (I know you did not mean to, I know you were oblivious to what this kind of thing would lead to. But it is that kind of emotional prepping that leads kids to being a perfect puppet for abusers. It is actually a tactic that sexual abusers use on young girls to make them more compliant. I only know this because of the things I have been reading about trump and epstien and how they shaped young girls into sex objects for themselves and their friends. And I know for sure none of that was on your mind at all. I am just sharing a deeper insight on it. It may also be why I have never had good relationships, more on that later) You both have damage from your childhoods that you have not dealt with, from what I see, you  have pushed all of it so deep down inside you that I doubt you even know it is there. I know that this shaped you as people and bleed into what kind of parents you were, through no fault of your own, I know your generation had hard parents and also your generation was not lead to ever look inside and to heal from the past. I thank you for being less hard than your parents. I thank you for seeing some of the things they did that you did not want to follow in. I am sorry for the hurt little kids inside you, only you can help them. The things that negatively affected me were not done by you intentionally and I know that. I feel that no matter how I lay this letter out, it will cause you anger and possibly sadness, those emotions are on you. I no longer accept responsibility for your emotions. I am sharing with you but it is your choice to be mad or to listen. It is your choice to except that I am my own person with my own thoughts, feelings and interpretations of my life or to feel attacked.

My favorite part of my child hood was being a son to dad. I loved all the boy things I got to do with him, fishing, wood working even just handing him tools while he worked on something. I got to go hunting and shoot a gun and play in the woods. I always have loved outdoor things, dirty things, hands on things. With only one child I had to fill both rolls and my favorite was being dads son. That was until I got boobs, things changed. You gave away the project car you had promised me we would work on together, that had sat in the garage for so long. I was so excited, not just to fix the car up so I could drive it but also to get to spend that time with my dad and to learn more about cars and their workings. I, to this day, do not remember what it is that I did that caused you to give up on that and to just get rid of it. A few years later I asked to go to trade school for auto body technician and I was told no. Because I am a girl, because it would not be a long lasting interest of mine, because silly girl you don’t really want a career doing this so why would we pay for you go to school for it. If you had not given away the project car you would have had a chance to see for yourself firsthand how much I was into fixing cars. I fixed up 2 cars while with Andy and I worked on cars with another guy I went out with. That last year of highschool you really lost me and here is one of the big reasons. I had worked so hard the other 3 years and in my 4th year all I needed was one credit, I was eligible for many programs for my senior year. I could do part time at high school and part time out in the world working at a job, I could have done full days at the community college, I could do early enrollment at the trade school and another option or two.  You would not sign off on any of it. Where was my reward for the years of hard work? My reward was having to literally sit in high school doing nothing. I should have asked for forgiveness instead of permission, one of dads favorite little jips.  I should have forged your signature, but I was a good kid, despite how you treated me.  You treated me like I was a hooligan, like I could not be trusted. Do you remember how I use to say I guess you don’t think you raised me well, or something condescending like that? Because I was sick of being treated like I was a bad kid. You have no idea what a good kid I was.

 Which brings me to another issue I had growing up, no one had my back, the two people in life that are supposedly always there for you and love you, did not have my back. I saw time and time again you were immediately not on my side, I was almost never consulted on what had taken place, and I knew that even if I told you my side you often did not believe me. I felt like you thought I was a liar about everything. Like being spanked for not washing my face, I did, just not the way you told me to I guess. And you had your evidence the dry face cloth so nothing I said mattered. I was pretty young so I don’t even know if I tried to explain. As your hand hit my ass for it tho my little self knew I had washed my face. This is the earliest memory I have of feeling like my truth didn’t matter to you. Not feeling like you were on my side or wanted to even hear my side is probably why there were so many things I never told you about. Because even tho I was wronged I thought you would blame me or you would hold it against me and at the very least I knew you would not fight for me. Like the things that happened in youth group, that I never told you, here are a couple. I was sexually touched by an adult in the youth group. It was not the first time I was molested but at that time I was old enough to know that I should tell another adult. It was not you that I told. And lord behold how the adult I told just said to be quiet about it and they were sure I just was taking it the wrong way. This man (if you can call him that) was not the first or last to harm me, not the first or last person you put in charge of me to do so and not even one of the worst offensives that have been done to my body. All these women out here with their me too movement just destroying mens lives and careers, right dad, those damn women being vocal is hurting men. Well let me inform you that 4 out of 5 woman have been sexually abused in their lives. Mom is lucky if she is that 1 out of 5 who has not been. Youth group was also the first place I was actually introduced to drugs (weed, I do not really believe it is a drug in a negative way currently in my life, but then it was and I was young and was always told how bad it was) and one of the kids was the youth group leaders son. When I told them I did not want to partake with them and that it was wrong and some regurgitated god stuff they all stopped talking to or hanging out with me and told other kids negative stuff about me. I was pretty much ostracized by people I didn’t even want to be around in the first place. Not sure if any light bulbs are going off in your head but they should be. Hummm why did our daughter not like church why did she always say church people were hypocrites, Curious.  (yes this is me being a smart ass. If you have not figured out that I am a smart ass then you realllly have not known me)

Per you letter, It seems you are still holding it over me that you bought me stuff and did things for me as it was mentioned much in your letter. The things you bought me were maybe at times what my silly kid or stubborn teen self didn’t want or maybe as a young person I asked for to much or for things you could not afford and I am sure as a young person I was at times ungrateful and you made this known often by calling me a spoiled brat. Being called that I am sure happened during moms fire eyed furies, I am sure it was fully justified, regardless it made me want nothing from you and it made the things you did give me feel like it was lorded over my head. You ungrateful little brat you spoiled brat it tainted how I felt about anything I received from you, like will getting this be held against me later, will this thing I got be the reason I am called a brat, but if I say I don’t want it I am still going to be called an ungrateful brat. It is quite the dilemma for a young mind and heart. The rewards I got from you were always with a price as I guess rewards are. But I don’t remember rewards as much as the criticism when it came to my grades and accomplishments. There were definitely rewards I know you took me for pizza (or was that the free pizza for reading program) and other meals I think sometimes we went to great skate as a reward (and birthdays) and maybe from my young mind the rewards didn’t stick out as much as they should have. I remember giving you a report card and being talked to about some non As, I remember those non As being more of a subject than the As. I remember telling you that other kids got 20 bucks per A and was told something like we are not other parents. I don’t know for sure the rewards vs criticism what I do know is it left me feeling like the good things I did, did not matter. I remember writing a book that the school published even if it were only in the school library and you were proud of me, I felt that. I loved writing it and drawing the pictures and it felt good to make you proud. Then there was that poetry contest I won 1st and 2nd place and I got to be on tv, I remember you being proud. I remember some adult saying how surprised they were that someone my age had written them. What if you had nurtured my writing nurtured my voice? You know Dugie Houser (the kid doctor) would never have gotten to where he got if he hadn’t had parents there to nurture and support him, no matter how smart he was if he had not had parents who held him up and gave him direction he would not have been a teen doctor. I know he is a fake character but you get the point.  I remember after that I felt confident enough to put together my poems and type them out all properly, I submitted countless poems to more contests, one got printed in a magazine. I remember after getting all my poems together and researching about how to publish them I approached you to ask if you would help me self publish. No the answer to most things was no. Not because they were bad things but if they were things you didn’t offer or that you didn’t want for me the answer was no. Help me publish my poetry, No it is just a hobby. I want to play an instrument, No it is to expensive. I want to go to trade school, No we don’t like that for you, that is not for a girl. Can I go on spring break with Jenny and her parents, No it is not with us.  Can I do a semester of college (the college you chose for me) in Europe, No because that scares us and we don’t want you to go over there. Your Nos over the years had many reasons I am sure but as I got older I saw your Nos as your way of protecting me. You had and have fears, we all do, you wanted to protect your daughter, as good parents do. Looking back for me though so many of these Nos did nothing to protect me from anything but living a life and having more experiences in my life, I wont lie I am still mad about all the things you said No to. Why I even kept asking for your permission was founded in how you raised me. Even if I didn’t like it I knew you were my parents and that I had to listen to you.  I wish I would have been smart enough and strong enough to not have listened to your Nos. I wish I would have forged your signature so I could have done one of those programs for my senior year. I wish I would have used my baby sitting money to publish that book of poetry. I wish I would have gone to trade school, because that thing you told me would not interest me for very long because I was a girl was actually something I day dreamed about for so many years. I wish I would have just taken a semester in Europe and not even consulted you. Yes I rebelled but in such meaningless ways, to go to late night movies to joy ride with stupid boys, all the ways I rebelled did nothing for me but when I had been backed into a wall of No for so long I didn’t really care. I wish I would have rebelled in ways that lead me to living my life more fully, to experiencing things that were new and different and out of your comfort zone. I wish I would have done something on my spring and summer brakes instead of just work. Instead I gave up on myself, I gave up on my dreams I gave up on having a life that was fulfilling and one that made me happy. Instead I just tucked away myself and my dreams and did what I was told I should do to follow the crowd to do what everyone else does to be a wage slave, buy a home, damage a kid and suck it up for 40+ years working just to maintain bills and maybe some times on the weekend doing something I enjoy but for the most part just punching the clock and pretending that I am alive. That was the life I was told to want, to work for and that, that would be a happy life. The regurgitated falsehood of the American dream, it hasn’t been real for a very long time and now is one of the least obtainable things in this country for the vast majority. Yes you raised me Yes you loved me Yes you gave me things that other kids didn’t have. Somehow thru all your giving and your love I lost myself and I lost my passion for anything, I lost any dreams to follow. I am not saying all this loss is on you I am just seeing where it started. You loved me so much in your way, protected me from all your fears, held me so tight to keep me with you as long as you could. I think I understand why but that tightness strangled me, that protection suffocated me, honestly it made me want to get as far away as possible. Looking back I know it was your way of loving me but growing up I did not really feel loved, not unless I was doing exactly what you wanted they way you wanted it, love was very conditional. This has followed me in life and has poisoned all relationships in my life. In all of them I would try to be what they wanted, instead of being myself. In relationships I would always try to do all the things that made them happy, putting my wants and needs aside. I let myself be abused, manipulated and thrown to the side all the while begging to be enough to be worthy of their love.

Most things I have talked about in this letter were far in the past, but I would like to add something a little more current, though to me it feels like a life time ago. I bring it up because there is so much you do not know about my marriage and I am not sharing much here, but I know you have missed jesse and hold it somewhat against me that he is no longer in our lives. FYI he never liked either of you. He complained about coming to see you even when we still lived in MO, other than enjoying things you gave to him or to us he never had a thought or care about you. There have been many people, hardships and abuses in my life that I have never told you about. While you do know some of the issues of my marriage to jesse there is so much you do not know. I am not going to share much with you as I don’t want to make you sick to your stomach. I know dad still loves him and wishes I had done more as a wife to keep him. The thing is dad -he didn’t want me. Not sure if he wanted me before the accident (as there were things well before I was hurt that I should have left him for) but he made it so clear so many ways that after I was hurt he didn’t want to have to deal with it. I was no longer enough for him as I could no longer work 40 hours a week and cook and clean and give him blow jobs. No I was no longer of use. And even tho we were married he did not stand by me thru thick and thin he did not stand up as a man to take care of me when I was down. Not mentally not emotionally not physically not financially. I know he had a very horrific upbringing and because I knew that I did not expect him to be capable of many things in way of emotional and mentally being there for me, even so the ways he discarded me were many. Just some of the ways he was less than a man; He had 20 one ounce pieces of gold from before we were married and I never asked him to touch them. After I got hurt I was still supporting us, even after I lost my job my unemployment still supported us. While he was working at the rv park (he had not been trying very much to get a job) which he only got by accident and only covered our rent and utilities (and many free drinks a day from his boss and neighbors) I sold things on amazon and ebay to buy groceries and stuff, I always made sure we had some money for his beer because beer made him happy. Someone told him that because of my accident we would get a lot of money and that was all he ever asked about. Even tho he drove me to my therapy he never asked how it was going just asked about when we would get the money. One point he got mad at me for going to physical therapy because it would cut into the money from the accident. Oh and while he was waiting for me in therapy he didn’t sit in the waiting room for an hour he went up the street to a bar to get drunk and flirt with girls, he would take the dog with him to, you know ladies love dogs. My therapy was on the same days and same time every week, days and times I had asked him to choose so that it worked with his schedule. Even so each time I had to search the rv park for him, as he would not answer my phone calls, most times I found him hanging out at someone’s patio drinking, mind you these appointments were usually around 2pm. When I would find him I would say hi just wanted to let you know we have to leave in a few minutes and he would react the way a child would react when a parent had told them they have to leave the play ground – I am not exaggerating. No matter my pain level once I was not working I always made sure he had a hot dinner ready for him. Even after I stopped eating meat I still made him meals he wanted with meat. So many countless times as we would sit down to eat a call or a knock on the door would interrupt us and even if it were not an emergency like the person literally said no hurry finish your meal, he would dart right out the door to do whatever it is they wanted. Once he had completed the task, did he rush back as quickly as he left? No far from it, sometimes it would be so long that I would take the dog for a walk to see what was going on and often would find him again at someone’s patio drinking sometimes even eating with them, knowing I was home with the dinner I made waiting for him. Nothing I did was ever enough or the right thing or the way he wanted it. I never withheld him from drinking yet he still always preferred to drink with others. On the times that I would hang out with him and these others drinking I could have 2 or 3 drinks and be fine, unless jesse prepared or handed me my drinks, those times I would only remember having one and the rest of the evening was blacked out. I would spell this out for you but I think you watch enough crime shows to understand what I am saying. On the very rare occasion that I could get him to leave the park to do something with me we would go to the beach, not only because I wanted to but because he also enjoyed it. We enjoyed it for very different reasons. As he would say you get the sea shells I get the boobies. Yes that was his whole excitement of the beach walking around with a beer and looking at boobs. And again I was an understanding woman I knew he is a guy and guys have eyes and they like to look at women so I didn’t complain. One time I did tho. One of our anniversaries (when we lived in FL) I asked if he wanted to go to Applebees for dinner. I thought since it was the place we met it would be a cute idea and maybe even remind him of those days when he would stalk me at work before we dated and maybe he would remember he had perused me and maybe remind him that he loved me. As we walked thru the parking lot to Applebees I asked him if he wanted to sit outside or inside his answer was, I don’t care as long as the server is hot. I really don’t know what more I could have done or what more abuse (much you still don’t know)I could have taken to be a good wife. Even after I was homeless because he wanted to move another woman into the house (before we were divorced) he still took half the money I had saved from selling things online. He took half of what I had and gave me nothing not even my paperwork from the safe. I left there with my old broken car, my cloths and $300. Did he ever call to ask if I was ok living in my car with no way to make money NO. Did he even call me to tell me he was getting rid of the dog so I would at least have a chance to come get the dog, no he couldn’t even have given me that small courtesy. When I did return to get my dog, at least that I thought I was, he had moved himself and his lady into the house next store, he still owned the one we had lived in. He let me in to collect any other things I left that I wanted, the house was destroyed it smelled like piss and shit, it was obvious that he had left our dog in there for who knows how many hours or days alone. I found out this was because his lady had dogs and didn’t like my dog so my dog was neglected and given away. Jesse never even had the balls to tell me he didn’t love me or wanted to be separated he just moved on with this lady while I still lived there. But if the entirety of this letter leaves you hurt by your daughter maybe you could reach out to him and see if you could get a real son. Maybe he would be better to you than he was to me.

I crawled out of all of it by myself, the accident, being fired, living in pain, being abandoned by my husband and all the other things that have dragged me down. I protected you from what was happening to me. I have protected you from so much in my life because you protected me. I knew you want the best for me, for me to be happy, for my life to be good. So I didn’t want you to know that no matter all the things you did in life to protect me it did not keep me safe from being molested, did not keep me safe from being let down and discarded my by job and my husband after I was hurt and it really did not protect me from going thru things that would have you on the floor crying. But I got up and I keep going.

 

You want to know how I am doing? How I am feeling? How my life is going? You haven’t known any of that for well over a decade you barely knew any of it even when I lived under your roof. And I am sure now that I have told you some of it you wish you hadn’t asked via your gulit trip letter about the wonderful life you gave me. I am sure your love was true and pure but the love I felt from you my entire life has been conditional. I did not feel like I was loved for who I was only for when I did just as I was told. I did not feel like I was believed or trusted. I knew you were the parent and I was to obey without question. Just like you said at the end of your letter all you expect in return is communication. In my younger years there were many more attachments to receive your love. I do have to say over the years and maybe because I am so far away your conditions for loving me have been less. Meanwhile you have not called me in over a year. In fact the last time you called me was when you were in town and you yelled and pissed and moaned because you did not follow my directions or utilize the map to find my place. What a wonderful example of your easy fast switch to fire eyed slapping machine. I am sure you would have slapped me if you could. Yet you hold me to a higher standard. I am not supposed to raise my voice much less my hand or ever get angry at you. I am who I am and parts of who I am came from you and I was shaped by you. Sadly that is one of the traits I have. Luckily I have no children to lay that onto.  And before that call I cannot even tell you the last time my phone got an incoming call from you. You see communication is a two way street. Not only two way as in I call you as well as you can call me. It is also a two way street in the conversations. So many hours of phone calls that I made to you were me listening to you, when I do get a chance to talk I am cut off or the subject is changed but mostly when I talk it is about things that are important to me but you do not want to talk about. Even if I am in the middle of answering a question from you I mostly don’t get to finish it. Except dads standard 3 questions I usually get to finish those, but he is far less talkative that mom. Honestly after the years I just don’t have the drive to want to talk to or share things with you, the times that I do you do not remember or understand or even hear me and other times it just makes you angry. That’s the way our communication has been in my life, so I don’t know if you know me very well. This letter sheds a sliver of light onto who I am, how some of my life was from my point of view. Not sure that you wanted my point of view but I am a person I am my own being with my own thoughts my own feelings and maybe I will regret sharing them with you.

 

How am I doing? Honestly horrible. I haven’t given you many honest answers to that question in my life because the times that I have I was shut down or it would be pointless to share as it would make you mad or its something you can do nothing about anyway. There is nothing you can do about it, but life is horrible in so many ways. While I still have gratitude and am thankful for many things in my life, all that is good in my life is covered in a veil of pain. I may be of younger age than you but for over 10 years my body has been older than your parents. I know dad has told me of his years of pain and how he is so strong he just sucks it up. Then there are the times he has mocked me for certain therapies I was doing and how strangely defensive he got when I said I was doing hypno therapy, because they always blame the parents he said. Of course they do! That is the foundation of everyone’s life, their upbringing. It is something that shapes us, and as you can see even parents with the best of intentions can turn into things that the child needs to work thru and heal from.  In over 10 years I have not woken up rested regardless of how many hours I slept even uninterrupted sleep, it hurts to just exist. It makes it very hard to have a positive outlook on the day when upon waking it feels like a steam roller ran over you. Some days an arm sometimes right sometimes left hurts so much that even using it to turn on a light switch causes me to curse out loud. Some days my head hurts so much that it feels like my brain is trying to bust out of my skull. When my head is going I cannot form words properly or even think enough to make a meal, sometimes all I can do is stare into the blackness unable to function on any level. Most days my neck has an ice pick stuck into it other days it is an axe. Sometimes I feel like my nerves are on fire and even a simple stretch makes the fire rage even more. Then days when my jaw is acting up, like being punched in the face, it pops and crackles when I talk or eat, or the days where I cannot eat at all. I became instantly worse than old in a flash in my 20s. Some days I can hide it better than others. Most people never know a thing. I learned how to fake it, to suck it up enough to get to a private place. I can be smiling at someone while inside I am hoping some random act, a rouge car or tree branch will crush me. This is not occasionally this is my day to day life. You haven’t really seen it, not just because you are far away but because most of my life I learned how to fake many things. Most of my life if I told you I didn’t feel well it didn’t matter, just go to school anyway. The nurse knew me pretty well she also knew that if she called you, you would not be coming to pick me up. How many years did I complain about belly hurting before you took it seriously? I was so young I don’t remember when the tests started. I remember my tummy always hurting and it being hard to poop and waking up at night with you trying to get me to take a pill for my fever, on at least one occasion being thrown into a cold bath. But even after the surgery I hurt often. But it didn’t matter I went to school anyway knowing you would not allow me to stay. I am a pro at pain but I am so tired of it. How am I besides the pain? Well all hopes and prospects in life are pretty nonexistent. Between my pain and my brain fog I am not good for much. Finding a meaningful relationship is just a cute romantic comedy story line. Being completely independent in life cannot happen. I would have been back when I had a body that worked and wasn’t in pain. Now of course the world is in a pandemic and our delicate country is showing all its cracks. There really is not much hope on the horizon these days. How does one even think about the future now? Whatever vision a person had for the future changed drastically in March (really in January but good old Mr president didn’t want to talk about it) and even if in the few months since march people formed a new view, that one is out the door now too, as cases rise and businesses fall and in the months to come all those who will lose their homes and ability to feed their families intensifies, no one can plan any future right now everything is to uncertain. I know you are in as good of a position for this as some can be, retired and headed to retire so work and such is no issue and because of that you are very not likely to be someone who loses their home as this virus will not affect your income. You also live out in the woods, best to not be in very populated areas right now. I am happy knowing that this whole mess wont be as heavy of an impact on you and I pray that the virus itself stays far from you personally. But me I am in the thick of it all, I could again lose everything in my life. The only work prospects for me require me to chance a debilitating illness and possible death. On top of that I am in a state with high and rising cases, but have you called me? My existence is in jeopardy for many reasons beyond the virus but have my parents reached out? Have they even bothered to respond to my emails? For now I have food in my cabinets, a companion (my dog) and I have my place, I love having my own place. The locations has its issues like they are currently doing unnecessary construction in the strip mall next to me, making it prettier and as to not disturb the corporate stores in it they are doing all of it at night. I ordered a noise machine so hopefully I will be able to get some of my usual none restful sleep again. I am already seeing the effects of what the virus has done to the economy, people hanging out in the McDs parking lot daily for hours or sleeping in the bushes between McDs and my place. If any of these people are hard up enough I am not protected from them, this house is not very secure from a break in. I have had multiple men approach me when I walk the dog, will they see which house I go into? Will they realize after days of hanging out at McDs that I am a woman living alone? Would they just try to steal my stuff or hurt me? Then there are the men that live in the subdivision, that are all your age and seem happy to have some fresh lady meat. I cannot pick up my dog’s shit without being eye fucked by old men, even when it was pants and jacket weather. I wanted to move some where with a pool but even if we had one here I would not use it because they see me as an object fully clothed so I would not want to give them a sight of me in a bathing suit. Funny I never thought of myself as a looker but to men 20+ years my age I seem to be their type. Mostly in my life it has been men in the older generation that have given me attention, attention I do not want. Then there is the maintenance guy, he is nice enough but has a crush on me. I have stated in clear words I have no interest in him. Yet he still bringing me things that I do not want flowers and figurines sometimes dog stuff. I just say thank you and try to not be ungrateful or be to nice. I don’t know what his reaction would be as he works here and I live here I have to make sure he is ok with the way I am toward him. You see things have happened in my life that have taught me not to upset a mans ego, they will make you pay for any perceived infraction towards them. Like the cop that help open the gas station door for me and when I did not appear thankful enough he said to me a bitch like you should not expect help from us if you get rapped. Or the random guy on the park bench that said I was pretty and I said thank you and continued walking, he called out after me get back here I want to talk to you I replied no thank you to which he yelled back well fuck you cunt. (just a couple of examples, I could write another 9 pages of them) I do not know if this maintenance guy would have a bad reaction and I do not know what his triggers are. He has been helpful like he put a gate between my house and the shed so I could keep my dog in my patio. But he also makes me very uncomfortable like when I see someone out of the corner of my eye and they just stand there so I turn to look and it is him just standing there waiting for me to look at him so he can wave. Or how he will come to the neighborhood on his days off and just happens to pop by to see if I am outside. And how he drives by my house on his work golf cart many times each day, literally for no reason he just drives by turns around and drives by again. If I say something to him and he doesn’t like it that could affect my life here. And if I do something that hurts his little man ego who knows what his retaliation would be. I am not going to chance it. But it makes living here a little bit like the eggshells I have had to walk on in past abusive relationships. I am so happy to have my dog who means so much to me especially in these times, I am so happy I have her for companionship and prefer her company to most people anyway. I have the internet to stay informed on the sick and sad state of this shithole country. I know more than is good for me I am sure. Do you know what is going on in this country, do you understand the rocks are flying in this glass house of a country that is being run by someone who only cares about himself. I know I know you don’t want to talk about it or maybe you just don’t want to face truth. I am happy dad talked me out of the military so I didn’t end up raped and killed like some women have in the service. But that hasn’t stopped me from seeing combat. Dad, have you seen combat? Have you ever been surrounded by citizens screaming and bloody? Have you ever shot ‘non lethal’ rounds or chemical weapons at civilians, would you? Have you ever been shot at for exercising your constitutional rights in this supposed free country? Or do you think this is ok, to be harming civilians who are exercising their constitutional rights? Have you stood up for others or protested anything. Maybe you have but never told me about it. Maybe you are unaware if all you watch is news that only shows one point of view and lies to you about the full picture. Are you ok with the constitution being slowing ripped up by a big brat who has always gotten his way and cares nothing for legality or morals? We said nothing when they (falsely attacked) immigrants and caged their children, many still do not stand up for those protesting the brutality and abuse. Maybe next they will come for those who no longer have use to society like you, old, retired, done with your usefulness, or for me or Connie, we too could be seen an un useful.(because of our chronic pain)  You are my parents not my friends, you are people who only have superficial kind of conversations with me so I truly have no idea. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. That was your choice a choice you choose over and over again thru my life.

So for your expectation of communication: what kind of communication? The kind we have had our whole lives, where you talk at me and when I talk I am not heard. The kind of conversations most adults have where it is an equal back and forth of sharing thoughts and ideas where both parties are heard and validated. The kind of communication an abuser has with their subject, that is the one I am most familiar with from authority figures to my boy friends and husband to bosses to others in my life who were only in it to manipulate me. It is such a fundamental part of human life, communication. Yet it is never taught in school not in K-12 nor in college. The closest actual lessons I have had in communication in my life were instructions, demands, assignments from some form of persons over me. I talked with a friend of mine about your letter as I did not know how to respond. Do I just do what I have done most of my life and just silently comply with your request? Do I continue to be the only one that calls you, just to be held captive for hour or two listening to you? Is it my duty to just continue to have one sided non conversations because you are my parents? Or it is time to open up, to stand as a person and say my truths? Would you even care to hear my truths or to know who I am? She told me the ball was in my hands it was up to me if I wanted to open up these flood gates or to passively get by. She told me to think about how I would feel on your death bed and if I would regret not speaking up. Do I wait until your death bed to tell you all of this, do I unload it all on you as you slowing slip out of this life, do I let your death bed be as silent as my life has been?  I thought about writing you a short snarking letter, honestly that would be safer I would not have to expose myself. I thought about ignoring that I got a letter the way you ignore my emails. I thought about just calling you and sitting there waiting to see if I got a word in and if I did was it even heard and if I did talk would it be invalidated. But ultimately I am fed up. I don’t care if you don’t like me or agree with me or understand how I live or think or feel. I have cared for so long and it has not served me well. We will never be able to have the kind of relationships I long for when I see someone who is loved without condition and who gets to be fully who they are with their parents. But we are much better off than many of the horrid parent/ kid relationships I see and hear about. I don’t really need to be close with you. But I would like to be respected as a person. I know you are who you are and at this age you wont be changing much if at all. That’s fine I do not expect you to change, I do not expect you to like any of this or anything I have to say or to understand my feelings. I just cannot be the silent obedient person who always calls but is never heard.

As you can see I have a lot to say. Then again this will be the first time I have actually talked openly with you, not just answered your questions or confirmed your orders to me. My life has been spent giving you what you wanted, you think I was such a bad kid, I did not do what you wanted I did not even use the tone you wanted me to. Either way I have spent my life hiding myself because every time I exposed just a piece of me you tore it down in some way. You had already lost my trust at a very young age and you didn’t show you trusted me. I found that the path of least resistance was to just pretend to be who you told me you wanted me to be. To protect you from the fact that I am not the clone you wished me to be. Thru doing that I lost pieces of myself along the years, living so far from you has helped me to rebuild and even improve the parts of me. I know in so many ways I am not the child you wanted. As well as you were not the parents I needed. I was strong willed and talked back, I questioned things you wanted to instill in me, I saw more to the world than what you saw and I wanted more in my life than you would allow. You did not help lift me up or encourage me to follow my dreams, but to follow the dreams you had for me. This does not make you bad parents or bad people, it does not make me a bad kid or bad person. We just were not well matched. Maybe you were suppose to learn from the gift god gave you or maybe I was suppose to just spend my life bending to your will. I don’t know and it doesn’t matter now. That time period is long gone. 

Like I said I have been working on myself on my damage on my downfalls on trying to heal past my traumas and the abuses I have faced. Most of which I never shared with you for reasons I have said in this letter. Possibly I have not done a very good job at healing but at least I am trying and at least I am facing it for myself. And now my load is lighter and while opening up to you may have made your load greater, you can just put in down, it is not yours to carry.

 


Submitted: December 16, 2020

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