be· tray· al
Noun: The action of betraying one’s country, a group, or a person.
Synonyms: Disloyalty, treachery, bad faith, faithlessness, falseness.
I would love to say “Dear mom”, but I’m not quite sure you deserve the title of “mom” anymore. No offense, but you’re not much of one.
I once respected the mother you were until I was in 7th grade and you took a plunge toward rock-bottom. We all hit rock bottom, but we don’t all abandon our children. You missed my first homecoming, my first high school soccer game, my first prom but most importantly you missed my growth.
You missed it all.
You didn’t teach me to put a tampon in, another friend had to because you wouldn’t answer your phone. That bomb ass contour I can do? Ya, I learned that from YouTube after I learned most of my other “girly” habits. Learning to separate my loads of laundry came from my friends moms who took your place while you were gone. Let me rephrase, you’re still gone.
Your habits costed me my sanity.
The time has come. You relapsed again. Am I shocked? Eh. Am I surprised? Absolutely not. It’s been roughly 5-6 years since I have seen you in this state. It has been exactly that long since I’ve watched you nod off mid sentence and get calls about you not showing up for work again. I thought you would have learned the first time. You lost everything, even me.
I do not and will not ever understand your ability to drop it all just for a fix. Call it a disease or an illness; I don’t give a fuck. Whatever name you decide to label yourself with, you’re still selfish.
I had surgery the other day
You didn’t even call to wish me good luck. They gave me 6 incisions to do a double surgery on my stomach. It took about 4 hours. While my father anxiously waited in the waiting room of the cold hospital, you were probably snorting another Xanax you stole from my purse. I didn’t get a text from you until the next day. All I got was a “Bitmoji” saying “I LOVE YOU”. You’re disgusting, and fuck your “Bitmoji” too.
I wish more than anything I could have my mother take care of me while I recover from this horrible surgery, but I know you would just steal my pain medications; as you’ve done in the past. I don’t think a pill can ever numb the damage you’re doing to yourself and me.
I told you NEVER again, & I thought you understood that.
I told you if you ever relapsed the way you did before you would no longer have a daughter, a grandchild, a son-in-law, etc. You would have nothing. I guess that doesn’t scare you as much as it scares me.
I hate to say this, but I have to go.
You’re an adult and I’m done acting like the mom. I’ve worried about you like a mother worries about a child since I was 11 years old. My stomach is worn down and my tears are nearly exhausted. It’s been 12 years of constant worrying, and I’m sorry but I just can’t do this anymore. I love you because you are my mom but I hate you because you don’t not take ownership of being a mom.
You still act like the past is in the past.
But the reality of it is, you leaving on a drug binge is my past which affected my future. I don’t flaunt my past nor do I hide it. I know it’s not my fault you’re a belligerent party foul, but it’s embarrassing being related to someone who is. You leaving before, was a blip in your past, whereas with me it was my childhood.
I can’t believe you have the audacity to repeat my childhood.
You’re doing it again and I hope you regret with every ounce in you; just like I regret letting you back into my heart. It’s sad I have to say such negative things about you, but for once someone isn’t blurring the truth.
I hope this drug binge gives you the satisfaction
you’re looking for, but I hope I don’t find you dead.
XX, The kid that came out of you.