Letters I Never Sent: What I Wish I Could Tell My Mom

Dear Mom,

It’s hard for me to open up. It’s hard for me to give you a real answer when you call and ask me how my day’s been, because it’s so much easier to fall into the habits and rhythms of small talk and pleasantries. I don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want to dampen the mood. And I’m afraid of what would happen if I let you see the frustration, pain, anger, and sadness I carry around with me from time to time. 

So I wrote you these letters instead.

To tell you how I really feel beyond the daily I-love-yous whenever we hug goodbye or hang up the phone. To show you a side of me I hope you’ll be proud of. A side of myself I was able to develop because you gave me the room and space to grow and change and become my own person, and I am so grateful that you did. You always told me I would get here, that I would find my place in the world, and carve out my own path. But as I do, it is so important to me that you know I carved the path to be wide enough for two. So I can have you by my side throughout every stage in life. Because I want you there.

I wish I could have told you how much I was hurting.

There was a time I ran to you for every minor inconvenience, from a scraped knee to a hangnail. I can’t put my finger on when that changed, exactly. Maybe it was a middle school heartbreak, or a falling out with a friend I was ashamed to admit was my fault, but sometime, somewhere, I started trying to solve all of my problems on my own. And the older I got, the bigger and realer those problems became. 

It was so easy to ask you to teach me how to ride a bike, but I was at a loss for words when it came to asking you how to deal with disappointment all the times I looked around and life looked nothing like I expected it would. I needed you. I needed you to understand how confused I was. How I didn’t even know where to begin. How much I longed for comfort and security, something familiar and reliable. How I wanted all of that from you, but didn’t know how to ask you for it.

I wish I knew earlier that you are just a person too.

I know you don’t have all of the answers. I know that some of the questions I’m wrestling with may not have an answer at all, and you’re dealing with your own problems too. I just wish I could have figured that out sooner. I wish I didn’t have to grow up and make my own mistakes before I could see you for who you really are, a person who is just trying their best, the same way I am. I feel like I would have talked to you differently, asked you a million questions, and cut you the slack that I now know you so clearly deserved.

That’s the hard part about getting older, you know? Always feeling like you are playing catch-up with the world around you. Did you feel that way with grandma and grandpa? Or watching me grow up? Sometimes I feel so guilty about everything I didn’t know how to appreciate when I was younger, that the present moment always feels like it’s already slipping through my fingers. Does that ever change? Do those voices ever get quieter?

I wish you would leave the brave face behind, and stop pretending everything is going to be alright.

In fact, there were plenty of times I resented you for doing just that. I thought you were ignoring my problems, and brushing them aside. I thought you were too afraid to sit in the I-don’t-knows with me. That’s all I really needed. You by my side. A witness to my disappointment and disillusion who just…loved me. I know the world is a wonderful place, and I have so much ahead of me to look forward to. I just wanted you to feel like you could acknowledge that it’s not a perfect place, and that sometimes we can do everything right, but it still isn’t enough.

You wouldn’t have scared me. You don’t have to keep up that overly optimistic act for me anymore. You can be honest with me and show me your own pain. You don’t have to wear a mask just for me. Nothing will be lost between us if you finally choose to let it go.

I wish we could rebuild from here.

And it’s not just a wish, it’s a question, an invitation. Can we let go of whatever expectations led us here? Whatever ideas and stereotypes of what a mother-daughter relationship is supposed to look like? What our “roles” are, and what we’re supposed to mean to each other? Can we just be two people who have loved each other ever since the moment we met, even if at times we butted heads like crazy? Can we just be open and honest and raw? Can we make the most of the time we have left, and all the lessons we’ve learned from each other? Can I be there for you in all of the same ways I want you to be there for me? Can I still raid your fridge when I’m 55? Can you call me when you just want to hear my voice? Can we never forget how important we are to each other?

I have called you my mom for my entire life, but I wrote you these letters so you know I see you as a friend, a confidante, a mentor, and my north star, all wrapped into one. You’ve been there for all of my highs and my lows, and I will never take that for granted, not for a single second. I would never be the person I am today without you, and I thank you for never giving up on me, or our relationship. I will hold onto you just as tight, forever and always.

Love,

Your Daughter 

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