Mom, as you’ve made abundantly clear, you believe I harbor hatred toward you. (You even used that exact word, suggesting that’s why I’ve distanced myself.) The truth is, I don’t hate you. I long for the mother I once knew—the one who gave my toys bubble baths and watched classic TV shows with me. How could I possibly despise you? You are my mother.
However, I’ve reached my limit.
I’m exhausted from hearing your justifications for your unreliability. Your explanations for why you can’t be trusted behind the wheel. Your reasons for yet another injury. Your claims that you consume very little alcohol and don’t need medication to get by, when, in reality, you drink far too much, and the pills transform you into someone unrecognizable.
I’m fed up with the falsehoods. Lies about how much you drank, the pills you combined with alcohol, the times you promised to come home, the bills you neglected to pay, and the men you were with while still married to my father. You deceive everyone about my character because I refuse to expose my children to your toxicity.
I refuse to carry the burden of your struggles anymore. For far too long, I questioned what I could have done to stop you from turning to alcohol. I listened as you threatened to take your own life when I didn’t meet your expectations. I can’t bear that weight any longer. Your choices belong to you, not me.
I didn’t create the series of poor decisions that led us here. I didn’t choose the alcohol, the deceit, the infidelity, or the hurtful words you spoke. I didn’t opt for the reckless moments when you drove under the influence with me or others in the car. I didn’t wish for the times you expressed a desire for an accident to end it all. Your behavior is not my doing.
And you’ve never sought help. If it were my decision, you would have started your journey toward recovery years ago. You would be thriving, a proud member of a support group, and working with a therapist to address your mental health issues. But you choose denial, ignoring the fact that your actions endanger yourself and those around you, despite my pleas for you to get help.
So, I’m done.
I can’t control your decisions or make you choose me; I can only make choices for myself. I choose to step away. I choose to protect my children from your poor choices. I refuse to let you verbally abuse me in their presence. I won’t allow you to drive them or disrupt their lives. I choose to reject your demons.
My focus is on being the best mother I can be for my kids, even if it means being a “bad daughter” to you. They deserve a stable environment, and so do I. Until you can commit to genuinely improving your life, I’m stepping back.
I can’t dictate your actions, but I can dictate mine. I choose not to let you create chaos in my life any longer. I choose to protect my energy from your toxicity. I will raise my children in a loving, safe home, free from your influence. To do this, I must prioritize them (and myself) over you.
So, do I hate you? Not at all. I feel sorrow for what could have been. I hope one day you seek the help you need, and if that day comes, maybe we can reevaluate our relationship. For now, I will maintain this distance without guilt.
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In summary, I’ve made my choice to distance myself from a toxic relationship. It’s a decision rooted in self-preservation and the well-being of my children. I hope for healing and understanding in the future, but for now, I must prioritize my family.
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