Letting it Out

I Will Forgive, But I Won't Forget

I wish I could tell you this in person, instead of keeping this all bottled up inside of me and venting on an app. Though, I'm better at writing instead of talking. Even if I wrote you a letter, you wouldn't care. Sure, you'd cry and tell me story after story. You'd express how much you love me and how things are going to change. It never changes. If I mess up the next day, you will call me out. Say that the whole conversation we had was pointless. That you'll never listen to me again. That you can't take me seriously. When you do talk to me you always bring up my cousin. Yes, I know she has it way worse than me, but that doesn't invalidate my feelings.

Have you ever wondered how I truly feel about you?

Sometimes I think you forget I'm still a child. That I will make mistakes. That I will disobey at times. That I will be messy.  That I will give you back talk. I'm not saying at all that is okay. I'm working on it. Honestly, I rarely get in trouble and when I do it's for my back talk. I'm sorry. Sometimes I'm just a complete asshole. I'm not saying at all that I shouldn't get in trouble for that. Ground me, take away my phone, make me clean the house. I'm not the type of person to slam doors and scream at the top of my lungs at a punishment. I respect you too much.

You treat me as if I am a grown woman when you are angry at me. You belittle me. Sometimes you forget that we aren't the same person. I remember one time we were at a Chinese food restaurant, and the woman wasn't hearing me when I said I wanted more. Then you stepped in and yelled at her. I understand that it was your money, and you wanted your money's worth. When we got into the car you screamed at me for being a punk. That I was too meek. You screamed profanities at me. I started crying and screaming back after 10 minutes of you belittling me nonstop. I told you to pull over and let me out the car. You let me leave. I was truly fed up. For years and years I have been dealing with your crap, and I just wanted out. I don't think you realize how serious I was. I wanted to leave. I wanted to get away from you. When I left the car, you were right around the corner following me. Making sure I was safe. You knew the dangers out there, and you wanted to protect me from doing anything stupid even though you were still angry. You called me and told me to get back in the car. We went to Walmart after that. You told me that I wasn't the person you thought I was. You told me that you would have tolerate me. You didn't apologize until we got home. You didn't even really apologize. You just told me how you loved me. You cried. I cried.

That's not the only time you've belittled me like I was nothing. I can't count how many times you've called me an "Idiot" or "Disgusting" or "A piece of shit" or something I can't even remember. You usually don't apologize for those.

You punch me. It seems like now that I'm older I have upgraded from a open handed slap to a closed fist. You hit me for many reasons. The first thing that comes to mind is that I'm messy.

You claim my closet is a mess. I'm not saying it's neat, but it's cleaner than most. You punch me for that. You tell me, "I'm not going to have a messy daughter. I'll beat it out of you." I can't have my own room because I'm messy. I have to share a room with you. I share a bed with you. You snore so loud at nights that I can't go to sleep. I can't watch a movie without fighting about the volume. You slap me in the face when I swallow too loud when I sleep. I can't get away from you even if I wanted to.

My hair gets everywhere. You punch me for that. Every time I brush/comb my hair, a lot falls out. I try to pick it up the best I can, but it's hard.

If I back talk, you punch me for that. While, that is not okay on my part, I am the child. You are the adult. Control your anger. Sometimes I can't help it. You belittle me all the time, sometimes you don't even realize it. I say something back. Sometimes you are just being extremely unfair and a hypocrite. I'll call you out on that.

You punch me if I'm irresponsible, like the time I lost my key. I was too scared to tell you, because I knew you'd hit me. So, I kept it a secret for a whole month. When I finally told you, you slapped me hard across the face and talked down to me. I told you that I was scared to tell you because you'd hit me. You didn't care. You never truly care, do you?

Every time you scream at me, you tell me I've pushed you over the edge. You've told me countless times about something. Does that give you the right to punch a child when you are a grown ass woman? You could easily knock me out.

I remember one time in fifth grade, you were mad at me about something. You punched me so hard on the side of my head. I used to get headaches after that. They've gone away now. I remember crying in the shower, not wanting to cry in front of you.

I remember one time you threw me down the stairs. After you did that, you walked out the house to calm down. My stepdad had to comfort me, because you didn't. I bawled in his arms. When we came out to the car, you acted like it never happened. You never apologized. You never talked about it after that.

I feel like if you read this, you'd think I'm just blaming you. Like I had no part in this. I'm not saying that. I'm not saying I'm the perfect angel, but I am saying I'm a child. You are an adult.

When you punch me now, I've learned to not cry. I've been hit so much, it doesn't faze me anymore. I may cry, but I'll try my hardest not to do it in front of you. I've started blocking your hits, and honestly, I've started to hit back. I don't really know what you expect me to do. Sit there and take it as you throw multiple punches to my head and back?

Tonight, you told me you wouldn't hold yourself back anymore. If I wanted to fight, you were going to fight me like a grown woman. I'm only a sophomore in high school now. One day, I know the big fight is going to come and you aren't going to hold back. You've made me bleed before already. I don't know when it's going to happen, but I know it will.

I'm not saying your a bad mother. You make sure I'm healthy, fed, have clothes, and a roof over my head. My life is better than a lot of kids. Sometimes you are happy and a joy to be around. You make me laugh, but those darker times cloud my judgement. Parenting is more than making sure I'm healthy and safe. When I'm older, don't expect me to visit often. You'll see me on holidays, but when I can leave - there is no turning back. I don't resent you. I forgive you for the things you have done and will do, but I will never forget.