Dear Simone

Dear Simone,

JN’s friend slept over this weekend. I was full of anxiety. What if she leaves? What if she has an episode? What if we have to start all over?

I didn’t grow up with sleepovers or friends so this idea was foreign to me. But I saw it, with others. ‘Saint tried to guide me through what’s normal and what isn’t. They had fun, she said. Her friend actually loved it so much she wants to be here all the time. I was a bit proud. I tried to show her friend the real us. I wanted her honest opinion since JN is always saying she hates it here. I needed to know if it was really something I wasn’t seeing or her depression talking. I got my confirmation. Correction, hated.

I grew up with parents who told me if they were that bad, then to find someone else to live with as they proceeded to kick me out. Where am I supposed to go? I’m 13. And I would leave. And they would report me as a runaway. And I would get sent back. And my dad would kick me out every 6 months. Until I got tired. Then he said he’d call the cops on me because now I was an adult.

I was 22 and trying to get away from an abusive relationship. My mother would say that maybe if I smelled better or did my hair, my husband would be kinder. But it was my husband that wouldn’t buy me deoderant or shampoo and tell me we don’t have enough money but would spend $600 on weed a month and he had multiple cars but he wouldn’t let me use any of them, then shame me for not doing enough. For needing him to drive me places on his one day off. But his boss would call and he’d drop me off and go back to work. My post partum depression was ongoing and when I tried to get a job, he got a third job so I went to school but then he didn’t want to watch JN when I had a test or would use it against me that he had to watch her for three hours every Saturday while I was in class. Now, years later, he not only abused me but our daughter too.

Years later, when my mother was starting to get an idea of what I was going through, she told me in disgust, “look at you, mad at me for staying with your dad but you found someone worse.” Thanks.

The trial is coming up. My father said they don’t want to testify because whatever I have should be enough, and can I still take them to their colonoscopy? Those are the parents I got.

AA loved me in silence and sometimes out loud. His silence tortured me, and his loud was paralyzing. My silence was painful, and my loud was chaotic. I’ve had to start over more times than I can count, but I haven’t lost my daughter.

I used to cry on my birthday. Damn, this day. I would always get my period and I would get so emotional I felt like dying. And of course my dad was kicking me out. And no one remembered or said “Happy birthday.” So I had no one to celebrate with. F this day. I guess it’s too much for me to ask for someone to love me one out of 365 days of the year. For someone to care or love me for a day. Just one damn day, show me mercy!

My wounds open up whenever I hang out with my parents. They don’t understand it. I hate it.

“I never asked you to.” Is what AA would say to me. Isn’t that what you do with people you love? You just do. You care? Ok, so what about when I asked him for help and didn’t get it? He took my love and time and threw it away.

He thinks the tattoo I have of his name is because I love him. I don’t. It’s on the arm with the most scars as a reminder of what it’s like to be with him. To never do that again. To never again choose someone who doesn’t choose you. Someone who secretly envies you and is possessive. Reminder of what I went through. Reminder that I’m not there anymore. Reminder that I can never get away...

My mother confused me and didn’t apologize. She expected me to take care of myself without teaching me and discouraged my independence if it wasn’t convenient to them. She was envious. Ignored me and didn’t care about my accomplishments. She didn’t allow me to have good self-esteem but expected me to meet her needs. Be her listening ear. Fix her problems. Keep her secrets from my father. I’m angry. She threatened me with my father’s wrath, and if he was ok with me that day, she would turn him against me somehow. She abandoned me often and neglected me. She didn’t trust what I told her and would go through my trash. Whose mother puts your trash back on your bed? My mother did not believe I was a good person. I’m damaged. She thought I’d get pregnant at 16 and drop out of high school. When that didn’t happen, she was disappointed. Of course.

My parents were capable. Just not for me. How can you forgive that?

My parents and AA made me feel guilty for having needs, for existing. I got the silent treatment often. There was no love bombing either. There was no love. No hugs or kisses or comfort. My heart was broken every day, so yes, I sought love in all the wrong places. They used every single thing against me. So yeah, I stayed in relationships longer than I should have. I didn’t know any better. They would try to rewrite my memories to make themselves look and feel better. Anything I did was never good enough. So I tried harder. When I had nothing left to give, they wanted more. And I had to deliver. I was expected to just know. What they wanted or needed and predict every possibility. It was never enough. I…was never enough. I wasn’t worth their love or care, but somehow, I’m always needed to fix a problem or get some info.

Do you still love me now?