I forgive you, but I have to heal. To heal, I have to tell you that you hurt me deeply.
ANGRY CONVERSATION WITH MOTHER
You did not protect me, although you encouraged me to be a better person. As a child, I saw you completely lost. At age 7, I felt that I was your mother. You were so tired all the time, when you worked those 2 jobs because daddy disappeared. He took the long walk, and he forgot the way home. Those times when you left me with that babysitter…the devil visited me. But you had to sustain us. You see? Grandma was mad at you for what you did. You chose the wrong daddy for me. The crazy one. He didn’t love you enough. He had other interests, and we all got in his way. You tried so hard, but your love was limited by your youth. You wanted more out of life, but you also wanted me. You wanted my brother. Or did you?
No. You wanted to be young. You wanted to have fun; a good time. You liked boys. Wait…no. You liked men. The scary men that took your heart. The ones that you slept with in front of us. You put us in bed, then you’d go next door. But we could hear you. I never felt more afraid. Mom, you took my innocence. Whore.
I wish my eyes and memories could replace the darkness that you introduced into images of sunsets. By images of the Fall. But that can never be, because your depravity and insecurity as a woman fills all of my childhood memories. Your lack of self worth. You passed that onto me. I became, in my 20s, everything that I said I would never be. Daddy’s rejection became my defense weapon. If my own father never cared or wanted me, then who else would? So, I went into the world with a hidden heart and a fake smile. I was bullied as a kid, all the way up through high school. You don’t like to hear this stuff, but I think you just feel guilty. Weak! I became an extension of you.
Desirable to boys, one of the boys…a whore. Just like you. God only knows how many times I felt His voice calling me, but I didn’t have time for him. “I’m busy, Jesus. I’m enjoying my life. Later…we’ll talk later.” It didn’t feel good. I didn’t want to be touched by men. I was so lonely; I filled my free time the way you taught me. It was not that many, but I had promised myself to have just one. It was a goal to not be like you! But, I was…
Desirable to boys, one of the boys…a whore.
The price that we pay for being so unwanted. For being the child that ruined youth. I came first, then came my brother. But you see? I broke ground; he didn’t. I had this pressure on me. I knew that you would never be happy when you looked at me. You said that you loved me, but I didn’t believe you. The words did not reach your eyes. The love words did not reach your face. Empty words spoken into the air. God only knows how much I have hated you. Hated you for so long. I don’t even want to look at you! I don’t want your opinions! Don’t ever touch me! Why did you sleep with my father? Why did you bring me here? I am NOTHING. Nobody has ever wanted me. I’m a fucking illusion. Smoke that will soon dissipate.
Desirable to boys, one of the boys…a whore.
The day that you did not protect me was truly my fault. I walked into the boy’s house; I knew he wanted something physical from me. I was afraid, but my soul was in pain. You were so busy with your latest guy. I needed to feel loved, accepted. Touch is such a powerful thing. He locked the door behind me; I was lost. I wanted you to save me. I had made a terrible mistake. Why? Get me out! I prayed to God, but He didn’t come for me. I let it happen; I didn’t even whimper. I was thrown in a corner of a small room, trapped between a bathroom door and a hallway. Legs perfectly spread. Easy access to a boy that had done this before…clearly. But there was a window. I looked into the sky, and whispered: Jesus. It was over before I could say Jesus a third time. I pretended to be okay, walked home in shame. Blood on my legs, I was wearing a skirt but I managed. So much pain? Was that how people made love? What was that liquid that the boy threw between my legs? Wait…the boy. He didn’t take me home; he had homework. That day, rage took a hold of my heart. I walked home, covered in blood with zero feelings. However, rage was there. It was like thin/white anger. The one that comes to you peacefully and takes a hold of your heart.
I hated you. I hated God, but I was still afraid of Him. This was how God showed me how much I was unwanted. This is what happens to unwanted children; we get what we deserve. Someone save me!
But there is something. Something happened to my soul. In that darkness, I found release. I had so much inside me. This event was awful, catastrophic, but it opened my eyes. Ma…you were cared for and loved by both your parents, but you were not treasured. You didn’t know that you were worthy of love. To your mother, you were a building that needed to be built beautifully. While she built you, she disregarded your heart. She took your heart, and she buried it deep inside of you where nobody could find it. You could not see how valuable and beautiful you were. There was this light inside of you; good things. You just didn’t know. How could you know, ma? How could you know that you were God’s treasure. You are a treasure. Grandma is not here now, but I want to tell you on her behalf: I am so sorry. You deserved more. Please, forgive me.
You see? I had this story all distorted. The parts that I have hated so much about you, ma, are the very parts that I have loved. Ma, you were wonderfully and fearfully made. So was I. How could we have known?
Ma, we needed to find each other. You had to have me to know this. I had to see the darkness to get you. I am not your rescuer, but I am a raft. The darkness of a rape was the connection. God did not plan this, but He is using it for something that is so much better than a perfect life. In the darkness, I remembered. In that dark cave of all my secrets, I found restoration.
You loved me from the first time. The love was in your eyes, but you were sad. That sadness was a veil to a baby, to me, your child. I couldn’t see you because you lived in a tunnel. A dark one. But you are coming out. You wanted something better for me, for us…but you couldn’t give it. This is not an excuse made for you. I see you. I love you, although it is still hard to show you physical love or to tell you. I am getting there.
I get it.
I was never just Desirable to boys, one of the boys…a whore.
I am wanted by the Maker of the world, God. One of His chosen…clean.
Ma, so are you.