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Dear Mother,
Your letter made me cry. It also made me realise how much I hate you. I’d had enough, I’d decided I was never coming back. Then, your letter came. I hate this. How do I convince myself that what I miss was never there?
Mother, I just turned 21. I suppose that’s what some call the beginning of adulthood, but for me it was an end. An end to these childish games I’ve been playing and an end to my hope of a relationship with you. 21, that means I’m an adult. You see, that means I’m like you.
Now, at 21, I’m old enough to look after myself. 21, that means it’s time I stopped relying on others and started to be being relied on instead.
A few weeks ago I tried my old game again. I stopped going to church and waited for someone to realise. I waited for someone to call or send an email to ask me if anything was wrong. Nothing happened. It was then that I realised now I’m on my own. You see I have choices. I can go to church, I can care for others and start acting like an adult or I can stay alone. No-one is going to be there for me anymore. If I choose to walk alone, I will be alone. If I choose to be a friend, I will have a friend.
Now while there is truth in what I’ve written above, I’ve started to realise it’s not that easy. I’ve been trying to pretend that what I feel isn’t there and I’ve been trying to care for others. Last Sunday I went and talked to some younger girls at church, but it just felt so superficial, like I was trying to be a ‘good Christian’, but God wasn’t there. You see, I’ve not been coming to God. It’s too hard. It means admitting what I’ve been trying to hide. You see, if I bring my feelings before Him, He might just make me change. I’m scared mother, I’m scared of being hurt. That’s why I decided I wasn’t coming back.
Why did you have to send it? I read it once and I’ve not looked at it since, but it still haunts me. It’s not real, I tell myself that time and time again, but I can’t forget that which I once so greatly desired.
Mother, my problem now is that I’m like you. You see, now that I’m an adult I’m not allowed to need someone to be there for me. I’m not allowed to want to share with someone what I’m going through and I’m not allowed to make mistakes. That is what I once expected from you and now I must live up to my own expectations. I expected you to be there for me. You were not allowed to have problems. You were the mother and I was the child. You were supposed to care for me not the other way around. You failed my expectations and yet I fear that so will I.
So is this the end or is it the beginning? I cannot bring myself to admit that I too have made mistakes. I’m an adult now, this was meant to end. My birthday, 21, was meant to bring perfection. No more would I rely on others, but I would be there for them instead. Yet, I’ve realised I can’t do this alone. My deeds are nothing before him. It’s self- righteousness not Christ-likeness I’m displaying. So, I can’t be there for others unless I’m right with Him, but this I cannot do. This means admitting I’ve made mistakes, and that, mother, means admitting that you’re allowed to too.
So, what of our relationship, is this the end or a beginning? You know what it is that I desire. A love that’s true and real. I thought that I’d come to the end, that I’d finally accepted that this would never be. I thought that what I was doing was right, to preserve what is left of our relationship, a love which is not real.
Now I am not so sure.
I used to think that this may not be the end but maybe just a new beginning. Perhaps our relationship can start anew, or maybe a new path shall I take. I’m not sure yet. But, no longer will there be so many ends and new beginnings. Just choices.
Regards,
Your daughter
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