Imagine your inner child waking up to a message that your soul has ached for. My mother usually sends me a weekly text message. This is the extent of her mothering and our relationship. I haven’t seen her in years nor spoken to her on the phone.
Today, along with her perfunctory message which always end with ‘Love you lots, have a good day’ ( as if she is part of my life or even knows anything about my days). It’s infuriating because it feels like if I were to text her back and say ‘I am bleeding inside from all the pain and hurt and suffering meted out by that man you sleep with every night, she would text back with the same , ‘love you lots, have a good day’. It’s insane, and any attempt by me to broach the subject of the sexual abuse has been met with silence.
She doesn’t remember anything and I am making a nuisance of myself, that’s how she leaves me feeling. I realise I have always felt her to be a cold white wall that I pound my fists on to be heard, only to be met with the same consistent iciness. I am the one who does the worrying about her, I even fucking worry that she might be worrying about me.
So getting back to the now…Today, along with her usual message she sent another one a bit later saying ‘Please forgive me’. The little girl in me, unmothered and abandoned for so long, wanted to jump out of her skin into the phone screen. Does this mean she remembers now? Does this mean she acknowledges the abuse now? Has she had enough time now to reflect and she wants to come clean finally?
Hell no! She says it’s got ‘Nothing to do with that’ . The filthy word ‘that’ assigned to the sexual abuse of a five year old child right under her nose. She says that she asks for forgiveness from all her children regularly and that she is sorry she put me in a bad situation. A bad situation indeed! I reply and say that I wish we could talk openly and honestly. I am met with that white wall again. Silence
And then much later she sends a benevolent message telling me that she still does love me and that she hopes God makes it easy for me. Hahaha , aren’t I lucky! So she is asking for forgiveness to save her own soul and make her feel better and it’s got nothing to do with the filthy ‘that’ which really matters. Here I am with a hole, a black hole inside, so hungry for her acknowledgement and acceptance. One of my few actual memories of the actual abuse is me laying on the bed, while she cleans my vaginal sores and I just want her to look me in the eye and say ‘Sorry, please forgive me for not protecting you, I know it happened’. That never happened and it never will. She never looked me in the eye the whole time.
Being in contact with her just hurts me over and over yet I hold on. Why don’t I just let go. I did before and then made contact again because she was ill. I won’t berate myself for this because it is the most natural think in the world, to care about one’s mother, no matter how neglectful they are.
For now, I feel that unmothered ache like a rawness within that I can’t adequately articulate. I look after that ache,
To my beautiful angel,
It did happen
I am sorry
It wasn’t your fault
You are not bad
Nor are you a liar
I see you, I hear you, I am here and I will never abandon you
I will never fail you like she does, I mother you now