Dear Mum

On Saturday night, you rang me drunk and told me you never wanted to see me again. That I was not welcome in your house and that you would hit me, if you saw me in the house.

This is not the first time you’ve phoned me when you’re drunk to have a go at me. And I know it won’t be the last.

For as long as I can remember you’ve always drank. True, you only do it at night and most of the time, it doesn’t affect your day to day life. You go to work, come home and clean the house, prepare meals, you raised two kids. But every night, you drink.

You can’t handle your drink either. I use to tiptoe around you at night, scared of what mood the alcohol would put you in that night. I will admit you have gotten a lot better with this. It still happens every Christmas, but admittedly Christmas is an emotional time.

I’ve tried to help you for as long as I can remember. I give you money, I buy you things, I moved home after University when all I wanted to do was stay in Chester.

Even now when I live in my own house with Jordan, I keep trying to please you. I pay for your car every month. I give you money knowing I will not see it again. Do you know how many arguments you cause? I’ve had so many people tell me to stop it, but I won’t. I can’t. You’re my mum.

You hold a grudge for a very long time and I wish you could realise that it’s not worth it and use that energy for something good instead.

I know things won’t change. I’ve accepted that but it doesn’t make it any easier. Sometimes I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around you. Like you’re Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

I’ve accepted that we are never going to have the perfect mother daughter relationship. We will never be Lorelai and Rory. I will never confide in you the way a daughter should be able to confide in their mum. I’m scared that I will turn into you and it does put me off having kids. I don’t want them to feel the way I did growing up.

Despite everything you say and do to me, all I want to do is please you. Which is why it hurts so much when you criticise me and nit pick and make me feel like I’m still a child.

I’m not a child and I know what I’m doing.

 

We’re okay again now. Until the next time.