Sometimes I just don't miss you
Sometimes, my dear daughter, I just don't miss you.
I don't miss your disapproving sneers when I don't act or look cool enough.It doesn't matter if it's my car, my house, the small city I live in, my clothes, career choice, friends, lack of beauty skills, my convenience store coffee, choice of husband (no, he's not what you think of as cool either, but he's been good to me and you, even when we didn't deserve it), or whatever just happens to strike you at that moment as wrong about me, even though you haven't seen me or had a real conversation with me since March 1999. So how do you know these things about me for sure?
I don't miss your little mutterings, just loud enough for me and stepdad to hear (your dad does that, too, by the way).
I will not miss you pushing my buttons. You know me so well.
I will not miss trying to explain why I left your dad. I really don't know why I should have to defend myself for leaving an abusive relationship, especially 20 years after the fact, but I have a side of the story, too. I'd also like to say that it's not my fault that your rich aunt couldn't get pregnant, though I was poor and fertile with no access to birth control. I will not miss being a scapegoat for you, your grandmothers, or your dad's family. I feel sorry for the person who's going to be the new scapegoat. I pray it's not your brother, though I fear it is.
I don't miss your "witty sarcasm."It hurts. A lot. Even when it's directed at someone besides me. You never used to be that way.
I don't miss you dropping out of sight for weeks on end, only to get a picture with a generic greeting on the holidays, with no response when I say thank you, I love getting these. It's still more than a lot of people get, so I feel guilty for writing that.
I don't think I'm going to miss making up stories for total strangers who need to believe we have a beautiful relationship.
I will not miss trying to figure out how to help you, when you're not even willing to help yourself. Some of this is me, but not all of it. It's really hard when I don't know what to fix, and then you get even more pissed off and more silent when I guess wrong.Your exact words were: "I shouldn't have to tell you!" or my favorite: "You don't even know what you're apologizing for!"
Here's what I do miss: the ordinary daily things I didn't get to do with you, and your brother, or the special things like prom, graduation, Arden's birth and life. God only knows what I've missed in your brother's life. I am trying to come to grips with that and the realization that I will never be mother of the groom or bride, since neither one of you are talking to me.
Love and best wishes. I'm sorry it has to be this way, but I have to get off the roller coaster. For what it's worth, I still get up every morning and live my life. May you find peace and happiness. Be well. I'm off to find some self respect.
I don't miss your disapproving sneers when I don't act or look cool enough.It doesn't matter if it's my car, my house, the small city I live in, my clothes, career choice, friends, lack of beauty skills, my convenience store coffee, choice of husband (no, he's not what you think of as cool either, but he's been good to me and you, even when we didn't deserve it), or whatever just happens to strike you at that moment as wrong about me, even though you haven't seen me or had a real conversation with me since March 1999. So how do you know these things about me for sure?
I don't miss your little mutterings, just loud enough for me and stepdad to hear (your dad does that, too, by the way).
I will not miss you pushing my buttons. You know me so well.
I will not miss trying to explain why I left your dad. I really don't know why I should have to defend myself for leaving an abusive relationship, especially 20 years after the fact, but I have a side of the story, too. I'd also like to say that it's not my fault that your rich aunt couldn't get pregnant, though I was poor and fertile with no access to birth control. I will not miss being a scapegoat for you, your grandmothers, or your dad's family. I feel sorry for the person who's going to be the new scapegoat. I pray it's not your brother, though I fear it is.
I don't miss your "witty sarcasm."It hurts. A lot. Even when it's directed at someone besides me. You never used to be that way.
I don't miss you dropping out of sight for weeks on end, only to get a picture with a generic greeting on the holidays, with no response when I say thank you, I love getting these. It's still more than a lot of people get, so I feel guilty for writing that.
I don't think I'm going to miss making up stories for total strangers who need to believe we have a beautiful relationship.
I will not miss trying to figure out how to help you, when you're not even willing to help yourself. Some of this is me, but not all of it. It's really hard when I don't know what to fix, and then you get even more pissed off and more silent when I guess wrong.Your exact words were: "I shouldn't have to tell you!" or my favorite: "You don't even know what you're apologizing for!"
Here's what I do miss: the ordinary daily things I didn't get to do with you, and your brother, or the special things like prom, graduation, Arden's birth and life. God only knows what I've missed in your brother's life. I am trying to come to grips with that and the realization that I will never be mother of the groom or bride, since neither one of you are talking to me.
Love and best wishes. I'm sorry it has to be this way, but I have to get off the roller coaster. For what it's worth, I still get up every morning and live my life. May you find peace and happiness. Be well. I'm off to find some self respect.
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