An Open Letter to My Mom

<deep breath> 

 

Dear Mom,

The last time I contacted you directly was in 2009, when I called to personally invite you to my bridal showers. I will never forget the formidable response to my phone call. Dad showed up at my work to ask why, to express his disappointment, and most importantly to tell me that all contact with you must go through him in the future. Well, it’s been 11 years. I’ve complied with that order all these years, aside from some simple, and benign, cards for your birthday or Mother’s Day.

At first, I complied out of my fear of Dad. Later, I complied because after almost 26 years under that roof I remember how life works within those four walls.

I don’t want to make your life harder. That being said, based on my experiences and observations I know my writing this letter poses a risk. I don’t take this risk lightly. I chose this venue because making my letter public alleviates some risk, as well as removes any potential secrecy. Secrets are powerful and poisonous. I also chose this venue because this letter cannot be torn up, burned, trashed or otherwise hidden from you. Eventually, maybe, someone will tell you about it, and maybe you will decide to read it. I hope you do. The choice to read or not read this letter is your decision to make.

In the last 11 years, in one short window of 9 months, I saw the back of your head across the church at Momaw’s funeral, I saw you out the window walking across the parking lot at Mercy hospital, and then we saw each other briefly a few times at the hospital in Little Rock. Seeing you out the window at Mercy hospital prompted me to contemplate what I needed and wanted to say to you if I had an opportunity.

I know I hurt you in the spring of 2008. I’m very sorry. You hurt me too, and I forgive you.

I’ve suffered for 12 years, carrying the weight of the family secret about your suicide attempt, accepting it as my burden to carry because I’m glad you’re alive. I’m grateful you’re alive!

I spoke up because it was time for both of us to be free of this suffocating secret.

It’s also time for you to know how many people care about you. There’s so much brokenness in this world, Mom. It’s okay to be broken. It’s okay to not be perfect. I now go by Mary because as a beautiful fragrance is released when Myrrh is crushed and broken, I want my broken life to be a living fragrance of God’s grace and love.

For years now, I’ve recognized you didn’t receive the outside help you so desperately needed in the days and months following the suicide attempt. I’m so very sorry. I didn’t have the knowledge or understanding to help you then, nor could I see beyond my own fight to survive.

However, that was 12 years ago. I know more now and I will not stay silent any longer.

There’s help available to you. Many people will happily help you – and I will help you from afar – whether it’s counselling, therapy, or another place to live. Help is out here, waiting to help you, when and if you ever want it.

You matter.

What do you need in order to heal, and to feel safe now and in the future?

Only you can answer those questions.

You get to decide.

I know how impossible that sounds. I will never forget the tangible realities of just how impossible that statement feels and sounds and looks. Yet, I’m writing you from the other side. It’s 100% possible. I’m free, Mom! I’m happy, healthy and safe!

There’s a huge world out here, and it’s not as scary as I was taught.

The journey to heal and be free is terrifying and painful, to be honest, and it’s completely worth the hard work.   

Truth brings freedom.

Truth. That’s why I called the police two years ago and provided details I never had dared to breathe aloud. It was the most freeing decision; shame and secrets - not my own - finally lifted off my heart and shoulders.   

There’s much I don’t understand about the past. These questions in my heart and mind only grew after I became a mom. I’m not saying these things to add pressure or shame to your load. I’m not asking for explanations or apologies. I don’t need a response. I’m acknowledging that I don’t understand and you hurt me a great deal.

I forgive you.


I pray for you to feel loved. Authentic, no-strings attached love. God doesn’t attach strings, and He is a good, kind, and gentle Father who doesn’t demand or want anyone to try to earn His love. 

I love you, Mom.

Your youngest daughter,

Mary Ann-Phyllis

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This Open Letter to my Mom follows my recent blog post: The Flowers

 

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