You claim ignorance for many things, yet I feel that somewhere deep inside you there is knowledge of the things that happened years ago. I think in order for you to function, you turned your head the other way and let things happen that you know should not happen.
I can understand being scared for I have been scared my entire life. Living in fear is not living, it is merely etching out a meager existence. This I think we can both agree on.
You have told me stories of your life growing up with an abusive mother and father. Your stories of being sexually abused and the anger, fear, shame, and guilt that surrounded your experiences. I empathize with you as I live that very darkness myself.
What I don't understand, as being a victim and survivor yourself, how you could possibly turn your head and look the other way? Were you so afraid of what was happening that you couldn't bear to see the truth? Or, did you simply just not know? Personally, I don't believe that you couldn't have not known what was happening. I think you had to feign ignorance, dawn the rose colored glasses and pretend everything was OK, that the man you loved was not harming your children.
I also don't understand how you could possibly stand by and do nothing after your eldest daughter came forth and told you she was being molested. As a victim, as a survivor, HOW could you do nothing? HOW could you continue to love the man who caused so much harm to us? HOW could you not approach me and ask if he hurt me too?
I often fantasize what my life would be like had I not been molested. I dream that my life would be marvelous! In turn, dreaming is torture. At the same time, I look at my life and am thankful for the fortune I have been blessed with in amongst the darkness. I'm an accomplished writer with two published works. I was successful in theatre as a triple threat. I have many wonderful friends whom I consider my family. This is what I hold on to, what helps me continue with the daily struggles.
I am telling you this because you failed me as a mother. You failed to protect me, to love me, to support me, to guide me, to help me. I have spent most of my life floundering in a sea of pain and loneliness, in turn protecting you, helping you, supporting you, guiding you. I need you to know how your actions affected me as a teenager. Spending my "informative" years listening to your troubles, preventing your suicide attempts, having to have the police intervene on many occasions, coming home to discover you had constructed your grave in the living room with you standing in front of it holding a knife to your wrist. I often wonder what I would have walked into had I been a few minutes later, would you have been bleeding to death on the floor? Having to monitor your pills, to lock up all the alcohol and anything that could possibly be used as a weapon. To having so much anger and pity for you... for feeling trapped and burdened. For the loss of the beautiful mother-daughter relationship I long for. For being unable to go to you to tell you how much I was hurting, how I was hurting myself, how I wanted to commit suicide, what Dad did to me, that I was raped. I had to escape you. I ran off and got married at the age of twenty, spent five years of my life in a living hell, all to escape you. Yet, when you called and begged me to come back, I did. I knew it wouldn't be any different, any iota of trouble in your life would again become my fault. I would again have to pick up the pieces, to put me and my health on the back burner to care for you. I came back because I hoped upon all hope that you would protect me from the man I called my husband. That for once you would intervene and stop me from being hurt. Instead, you sat back and ignored it. You often closed your door and turned up the television so you wouldn't have to hear my screams of pain. At least this time you didn't yell at me to shut up, although, I would have rather been yelled at, being ignored caused me more pain.
I am incredibly angry with you. I have every reason in the world to hold as much anger and hatred towards you as I do.
Yet, I also love you because you are my mom.
I love to hate you...