A letter to my mother

A letter I would love to give to my mother, but know I never will.....

Mom,

I love you. You mean so much to me, because you gave me life. Please remember this as you read through this letter.

I know I'm not your first born, and I'm not the baby, but why? Why do I feel like I'm nothing in your life? I wait for you to call, and sometimes, it's months and months before you even realize it and call me. I talk to Michelle and Rachel and they tell me that they talk to you all of the time, but you never call me. And when I call you, the first thing out of your mouth is,"what do you want?" Do you realize how much this hurts me? It's like I am a burden to you. You don't realize how much your words hurt me.

You once told my husband that I'm a hypochondriac.

Really?

Why?

Because I actually am sick?

Because as a child every time I would beg you to take me to the doctor, there was actually something so wrong with me that I usually ended up in the hospital or having surgery?

That's not a hypochondriac, mom - that's someone who is sick. But let me just say thanks for putting that stigma on me. Now everytime I feel bad, he throws in my face that even you think I'm faking it. I know I'm not beautiful like Michelle and perfect like your precious Rachel, but I am human. I can't help it that I look like my father. I truly believe that there are times when you hate me because I am a visual reminder of him. At least you finally admitted that to me - not that I was shocked, because I've felt it my whole life. And just so you know - your sister told me a long time ago that I looked just like him and that you hated it.

I've tried my whole life to make you proud, and for the first time in my life, you said it when I graduated college earlier this year. Why must I overcome huge obstacles for years before you even say you are proud of me? Am I that much of a disappointment to you?

About twelve years ago, I went to your work to drop something off for you. When I got there, I asked the woman at the front desk for you and she advised you weren't back from your bus run. She asked me if I was Michelle and I said, "no, I'm her other daughter." "Rachel?" "No.....her OTHER daughter, Donna." "Oh! I never knew she had three daughters! She only talks about Rachel and Michelle".

Wow........

That is how I have always felt.....the daughter that you don't want to acknowledge. Your shame.

Even though you make me feel this way, I still love you. I still want you to love me.

Maybe I'm just a glutten for punishment..........

And before you say it, I know....you think I'm being overly dramatic. I know. I've heard it all my life. Thanks for that too.....

Maybe I am being dramatic. But since I wonder sometimes if you even love me, does that make me dramatic? Maybe I feel that way because I'm not feeling love from you.

I'm not writing this to be mean or to make you feel bad. I just want you to realize that even though you made me feel this way, I still love you. I am still your daughter, and I will be there for you and fight for you with my last dying breath. You are my mom, and you are the world to me, even though I'm not to you.

I love you.