Amy of A Diary of a Mad Woman is my guest today. Normally super sassy and always brutally honest, the mad woman proves she has a big heart too and it has been missing a very important piece.
Dear Mom,
You know I love you, right? I want to hammer that home because, well, because I’m a shit and I’ve been a rotten daughter and I want to make sure you know.
Do you remember when you would make Grandma’s hiking cookies. You’d meticulously pull out all of the ingredients and set them on the counter before measuring anything. Do you remember thinking you’d lost your mind when you couldn’t find the nutmeg? That was me. I hid it. EVERY TIME!
I love you.
Do you remember yelling out the window for me to come in when Jeff McDowell dropped me off late that one school night? Thank you for keeping me from kissing him. Really. THANK YOU.
And I love you.
Do you remember asking me why I didn’t tell you about getting pregnant at 17? I didn’t understand that your love for me wasn’t at risk. I didn’t know that the why didn’t matter. I didn’t know you wouldn’t let me go.
I so love you.
You were such an amazing woman to be able to raise a family of 7 on such a small income. My childhood was filled with activities and adventures and cherished memories. You made that possible. You held us all together, kept us clothed and fed and sheltered. It was because of you that we had such amazing and yet simple vacations. You made us appreciate mother nature and all her beauty. You forged our religious foundation, taught us about faith, showed us how to worship and live like good Christians.
I truly love you.
And yet there were the disappointments, deceptions and betrayals. Were any of them necessary? What purpose did they serve? I don’t even want to know the whys.
I don’t care, I love you.
In recent years you’ve retreated. I don’t know how to find you most days. You don’t respond to my calls or engage me in any meaningful communication. I worry for you. I know you are filled with fears and anxieties. I so very much wish I knew how to help.
I miss you so much it hurts. I need you to be my mom. I need your mind to be yours.
Wherever you are, whoever you’ve become, wherever you go, I love you.
Your daughter,
Amy
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This is wonderful Amy. Through your words we get to know and love your mom too.
Yuliya, she would have loved you and your wicked sense of humor. Thank you.
I am sorry that your relationship with your mom is not what you hoped it would be. This is beautifully honest.
Thank you. I’ve discovered through trial and error just how valuable honesty can be.
Beautiful, poignant and heartbreaking, Amy.
I hope you and your mother find a way back to each other.
Because you have love, and really, isn’t that enough?
I hope so too Alison, I really do.
I hope that someway, somehow your mom will read this someday. And I hope that you can reconnect. xo
Me too, Natalie. And thank you.
Oh Amy… I am so sorry that your mom isn’t a part of your life. I fully understand how difficult it is and to not know why too because mine is off doing her thing without keeping me, my siblings or her grandkids in her life.
I hope that one day things change and you and her are once again together as a family.
Jackie its as much my doing as hers. And writing this letter has change my attitude. I am resolved to mending us, in whatever form it takes.
Hugs to you, my friend.
Thank you Tonya for letting me share this letter. My mother suffers from depression, memory loss, paranoia and anxiety. She also refuses any treatment. Sadly, she isn’t the only one who suffers.
Please, if you know someone who suffers from mental illness, offer an ear, your heart, to them and their families.
Hugs, mad woman, huge hugs.
Ultimately, I have to believe that your mother knows you love her — because, well, love is a gift, and you are wonderful, meaning that your love is a wonderful gift.
But I hope your mom finds the help you know that she so desperately needs. I’m a shit son – I don’t call my mom nearly enough, except when I need a babysitter – but, I know that, if something happened to her, I’d know right away.
Hugs, mad woman — hugs.
Right back ya, John. Thank you.
Hugs hugs hugs.
She knows your love. I hope one day she’s at a point where she can come back to your family and return it.
xoxo
I know she knows, I just wonder how much she forgets. I have to make it my duty to remind at every opportunity.
I can feel my relationship with my own sons drifting apart because of my own mental illness. This letter reminds me that it’s better to walk away from the mundane and make something wonderful for them out my own free will and make it come from the heart.
YES YES YES! And Pamela, they know you love them. Anyone who reads your words of your struggle knows there is a drive behind them, a love for your family. Hugs to you my friend.
What a wonderful legacy she has given you — I sincerely hope that you two will find your way back to each other.
Oh, my sweet Amy…this was so heartfelt and tugged at the mother inside me.
Your mom doesn’t know what she is missing, and I am sad for both of you. You are an honest, loving soul and I hope she sees this one day.
Love you…xoxo
I hope your moth finds the good in herself again and you can share your memories together.
‘*mother*. So sorry…
This is so raw and so beautiful xo
My dad has gone around the twist. We have never had the best of relationships, but he is not speaking to me at the moment. He tells relatives that we don’t call him, we just leave messages. So yeah. It sucks. I have so many wonderful relatives, but when the weakest link is your parent, it’s painful.
And if that parent was my mom, I am not sure I could function. You are a strong mad woman.
Want some wine?
I hope that you are able to reconnect with your mom again.
What an intense letter. I hope they find their ways back to each other because it sounds like they could both really use one another.