The Letter

I did it.  I sent my mother a letter (email).  Now I wait.  I feel a strange sense of relief, of letting go. Sending something out into the Universe, and waiting to see what comes back.  If nothing comes back….well, I’m find with that.  



I don’t know if you are still using this email address or not.  I guess I’ll find out soon enough.
I’ve started this email a thousand times over the years, in my head.  I’m starting it again, and perhaps this time I’ll actually send it.  

I’m in middle of reading this book, “I thought we’d never speak again; The road from estrangement to reconciliation”.  I bought it because, as I’m sure you know, D has stopped speaking to me.  In my quest to understand why, and to try to mend that relationship, I have come to realize that I can’t fix my relationship with him, if I don’t fix my relationship with you first.  

I’ve come to feel very distant from you, not like the last time we went for a few years without speaking.  This time, for me, was a lot deeper. I realized that I could be hurt by you, and deal with it, but when I felt as though you’d turned your back on Dan, I could not bear that.  I was so angry with you, and so angry with the way I was ganged up on by you and G(my sister) together.  It was a continuation of everything that I had ever felt about our relationship – the relationship between the three of us. 
I know that each of us has a completely different perception of what our lives have been like, what our lives were when we lived together, and what our lives have been ever since.  I know that over the past 7 years, since I left B, much has changed in my life and how I view my past.  I’ve never not ‘hurt’, and I’ve never been happy.  I realize now, that my life and my world was dominated by drinking and by constantly fighting to not give in to the darkness that I’ve always lived in.  
You may not realize or know this, but the first time I tried to commit suicide, I was 7 years old. Maybe younger.  We were living in the house in Madrid, and I tried to slit my wrists with a butter knife.  Obviously, it didn’t work.  
The next time I tried, I was 19 or 20.  My room-mates found me, and took me to the hospital where I spent three days, and then was released because I didn’t have insurance.  
I never went through with any other thoughts of dying, because I didn’t want to leave my children mother-less.  
I began seeing a doctor last year, who has been wonderful in helping me sort through all the darkness in my mind.  I still have dark thoughts, but they’re much easier to feel, acknowledge and release, than they used to be. 
Having D not speak to me for months now, has been the most painful thing I’ve ever gone through.  I am sorry if you’ve felt any of the same pain that I now feel.  
I am not sure where to go from here.  I guess I just wanted to make the first move.  I am still sad, and angry and frustrated, but I am ready to hear your side of things too.  Maybe we can both work towards sorting out our feelings.  If you want to.  If you don’t want to, I accept that, and I will move forward with my life as I have been doing, holding no ill-will towards you, and wishing you a happy, peaceful and healthy life.  
Your daughter,
Strength & Judgment

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