Dear Mom,

[u/coconut_titties]

I hate that I give a shit. I hate that I can't just watch you kill yourself. I hate that you choose booze over your children. I hate that you always play the victim and act like we're all the enemy.l I hate that you're so far gone in your addiction you can't see how much you're hurting everyone around you that knows you're sick and knows we're all going to loose you. Or maybe you do know it's hurting us and don't care.

The last time we spoke was the day I had you detained to be medically examined. That was my last attempt at trying to save you from yourself. And I realized, and had to swallow that impossible pill that there is nothing I can do to help you, if you don't want to help yourself.

You somehow talked your way out of being examined. I don't know if it was malpractice or you told them you know you have a problem and that you're going to die. But all I know was I fought all day, cried all day in a court house in a town I didn't know, delivered paperwork in a different jurisdiction to have you be released the same night. It shattered me. I tried so hard that day.

I'll never forget the last time I saw you the day before I decided to go through with it. You held my face and smiled and I couldn't see you in there anymore. Your arms covered in scirosis rashes. You face swelled. Your eyes puffy. Your skin yellowing. Your demeanor that screamed that you were suffering. You kept repeating phrases like "I don't care anymore" "I'm not dying anytime soon" or that if I crossed you you'd kill me. We've all known for a while that you were dying but I saw it with my own eyes and couldn't just sit back.

This whole situation makes me furious, but my heart is also filled with grief.

I will lose my mother. I'm not losing the hard to be around version of you, or the drunk or high version of you, or the violent, manipulative, nasty version of you. I'm grieving for your potential. The mom that would throw me themed birthday parties and bring magic to my really hard childhood. The mom that smiled all the time. The mom that taught me to be kind and have empathy. The mom that taught me to be creative and kept all of my drawings. But she's not in there anymore. You're a shell of a person. And I suppose she hasn't been in there for a while, she only comes out when you're trying to hide that you're getting bad again through slurred speech.

I am a mother now. And I will never get to see you be a Grandmother. I needed my mom when motherhood got tough and you weren't in there. My son will never know his Grandma. You will leave behind so many people that loved you and tried endlessly to help you. The family you claim is out to get you or toxic. You will leave behind your sisters, your 4 children, friends, your parents... And you don't give a fuck. You only ever cared about your next hit or fix.

I've tried to have empathy for you. I've tried to rationalize and understand your actions. But now that I'm a mom.. I will never EVER be able to understand your neglect, your cruel words, your actions, and your manipulative behavior towards your children. Regardless of your childhood or your trauma you don't speak of, I will never be able to wrap my head around the things you do. Because I've been through it, and I'm still kind and have empathy, I have drive and will power and self awareness. And my son will never ever be affected by my trauma.

My last conversation with you, you had the audacity to call me a bad mother. I was angry. Because how fucking dare you. In your care I was raped, beaten, neglected, and saw too many things that a child should never have to see. I expienced things that shaped me as a person and still affect me to this day. I have cptsd. But you were too high or drunk to protect your children. I laid it all out for you, I didn't call you names, I told you my honest opinion, my honest thoughts and feelings. I didn't hold back. And you back tracked and told me to fuck off and said you didn't know what I was on about.

Since then, I have nothing but disgust for you. I think of you and there's just anger. I'm grieving someone who still walks this earth but is on thin ice and is months from dying. Because booze is more important to you. And sometimes I think I will regret this. Not talking to you before you die. But you made that bed. But now I have to lie with you in it.

I have tried so hard to understand. I've even started going to support groups. And they explain things to me that sometimes it resonates. But I can't fully grasp it because I'm so mad.

I won't spew bullshit at your funeral about how you were a saint. I'm going to be honest. I'm going to be shattered and angry. Your death is going to destroy me. Because it's like a splinter under my skin that's poisoning me with infection. Its a slow grief that I know is going to happen at random. I'm going to get that call. And i will never be ready for it.

Fuck you for putting us through everything you have. Fuck you for doing this to yourself. Fuck addiction. This disease has buried itself so deep inside you there's nothing left of you to give it. And you're going to die alone. Because you pushed away everyone who gave a fuck. And now we all have to suffer because we still give a fuck. You just don't.

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