What are you looking for?
Featured Topics
Select a topic to start reading.
If you are in crisis and need immediate help, please call 1-800-273-8255 (NSPL) or text HOME to 741741 (Crisis Text Line). More resources.
Dear Mom,
I hate you for making me hate myself, and for making me think I have no value. There are so many thing you have done that hurt me, and when I tell you about some of those things, you either don't care or get defensive. When I told you I might be depressed, you brushed it off and made me feel like my emotions wore worthless. You told me I couldn’t actually be depressed because nothing bad enough happened. You get mad at me for lying to you, but it started because I felt like I couldn't tell you the truth because you would get angry. And the I just didn’t see the point in telling you everything. You don't care about my passions, my thoughts, my beliefs, or my wants; at least that is how it feels like. You say you love me but the love you've shown has been toxic and twisted. I feel like you only "love" me because loving family is an obligation to you. I know you don't mean to be like this. This was the kind of love you were shown and you've been hurting and struggling ever since dad died. But the things you say when you're angry break me. The hurtful words you've told me stay with me, and my brain replays it again and again on the bad days.
When I told you I was insecure of my looks and my weight, you told me I just needed to lose some weight and I would get my confidence back. You've said that no one else will tell me the truth but they will think that I am fat and ugly. But no one in my life has EVER said that or implied that or made me think that way other than you. And the worst part is that everything except underweight is fat to you, so I don't even know if I'm actually fat.
Even if I have a glow up, and I'm skinnier and prettier and smarter and just better, I will never have my full confidence back. You should have been nurturing me, but instead you destroyed my mental health.
You always compare me to my friends, my sister, random people on the street, and even some child genius you saw on the news. I never feel beautiful because I compare myself to prettier girls. And for the same reason, I will never feel smart or talented. I can't stop comparing myself to others now. I even compare myself to my own friends and feel good when they are worse than me at something. I might meet your standards one day, but I won't meet someone's standards and thats all I can think about. And your negative thoughts about me are so much more powerful than all of the compliments I've gotten. Mostly because I can't believe those compliments are genuine.
I will never be able to tell you some things. I will never be able to admit that I'm not straight (because you're the type of homophobic where you can’t even understand other sexualities), or that I got into s/h and struggle with it, that I'm fucked up. I started cutting just to try it because I heard it took away some of the pain. And it did. It gave me a high when I was feeling so low, it took the edge off of how I was feeling emotionally, and it was like the pain inside of me bled out and I felt good for a while.
Sometimes, I do risky things because on the inside, I'm hoping you will notice. I'm hoping you would realize how you've been making me feel. I'm to scared to tell you, so I cut in obvious places, mention I was late to lunch and didn't eat it that day, don't watch where I'm going because if I almost died, then you HAVE to care. Right?
I want to be a psychologist so I can help people who are going through what I went through. So I can help them be happy and know how to be happier myself. Or I want to research because I love researching and discovering things. But we don't have the freedom for me to choose whatever job I want because of our visa, our financial problems, and so much more. But if you were to support me, I could be whatever I wanted. The real problem is you want me to be what you wanted to be, to live a life you desire, because I'm your second chance. So don't tell me I CAN'T be something because its you WON'T let me be that.
You choose everything for me and you get mad when I have my own thoughts and stand up for myself. So I stopped standing up for myself, not just with you either. I would have a lot of problems and difficulties, but I could go after what I want if I really tried. But the things is, you've made me depend on you being there, even if you make everything worse. I wouldn't know what to do on my own. And you guilt trip me all the time, saying you gave up your abusive second husband for me, you came to America to give me opportunity and a good future.
But you know what, mom? You only hurt me, never helped me. And you're a reason I won't be happy for a long time, a reason why I need to heal, and a reason for my depression, overthinking, anxiety, self hate, and so many things. I don't know if I'll ever love myself, if I'm worth loving, if I'll ever be okay with the dark parts of me. I have mommy issues and I'm needy and clingy and I need approval from everyone because my self esteem is directly related to outside thoughts. I'm broken and sad and I'm not amazing in any way.
I hate you for making me feel like shit. I hate you for making me feel fake and like a pick-me whenever I talk to someone about feeling like shit. I hate you for making me think no one will like me for me so I have to pretend to be likable and change who I am with everyone. I hate the way you casually put me down in conversations. I hate you for making me feel like I was blaming everything on you, for making me feel guilty, even as I was writing this letter. Because there's moments where you're good to me and make me feel better and when everything is okay, it gives me hope that you love me and that you will get better. And I hate you, most of all, because I can't truly hate you; no matter how much you hurt me, I still love you.
If you see a comment that is unsupportive or unfriendly, please report it using the flag button.
More Posts
-
Mom what to do with this life?
Mom, What am i going to do with this life? Am i suppose to survive or live a life full of lies? Oh mother please dry this tears in my eyes as i crave for y...
-
depression go brrrr
there is a future for me i tell myself over and over again hoping one day i'll believe it i told myself five years ago when i dragged myself out of the batht...
i hope your mom stubs her toe constantly
Reply