This probably isn't a letter you'll ever read, as much as I want you to. I don't believe words will ever express the pain and hurt I've felt over the years.
You've always told me that you love me. Please understand that I don't doubt that, I'm sure you do, but I need you to understand where I'm coming from. Just this once.
Remember how you would sometimes say that you "knew me better than I knew myself"? If that were true, why the hell didn't you ever try to truly help me?! I know there are so many other people in the world worse off than I, and that I'm privileged in many ways, but that doesn't make my pain any less.
For six years you stood by and watched me suffer. I remember you saying - time and time again - that I wasn't trying hard enough, when I can say with all honesty that I have never tried so hard in my life. To be told that I wasn't putting in enough effort, felt like someone was slicing through my chest. It hurt. More than you'll ever know. And what hurt more was the fact that you're my mum. I thought that mums were meant to be there for their kids. To offer support and comfort if needed. Yes, you sat and listened when I felt as though I had no strength left, but it never felt as though you were there. I always felt worse after a "talk", as though I'd opened up my heart to someone, only to have them turn the other way.
Depression mum, that's what I had. I don't think you realize how bad it was. I was one step away from killing myself. Did you know that? one step.The only damn reason I didn't was because I personally felt as though it was the easy way out. I didn't stick around for you, not for anyone; I stuck around because I don't like to give up and I try so bloody hard, so don't ever tell me that I don't try hard enough. You don't know what trying is.
I know I've mentioned about how much I admire Carlie* from work, and I remember each time you asked if I admire you. Why would I? That may sound harsh, but give me one good reason why I would. You haven't done anything. You got married, stopped work and had kids. Don't even think about using us kids as an excuse. If you really thought you had to, you would have got a job. We always struggled for money, you could have got a job. So many other mums do, what makes you so different? Loopus doesn't cut it. If dad weren't around what would you have done? You don't aspire to do anything, how can I admire someone like that?
Growing up, I distinctly remember the amounts of cake and biscuits we were fed. You say fruit and veggies were too expensive, but I think if you really cared about our health, you would have quit buying crap and bought food with some nutritional value. As a result of your selfish habits and lack of care, I grew up as an overweight - if not obese - child. Through high school, you never once lifted a finger to help me through times that I tried to change my weight. Instead you put temptations in my way. Told me that I was "just right", that I didn't need to lose weight. What's wrong with you? Are you that afraid that your child is smarter than you? More aware of the consequences of such an unhealthy lifestyle? If it requires the slightest change of your habits, we both know you won't try.
My whole life, I've felt like the black sheep of the family. I'm not talking about "middle child syndrome", I'm talking about feeling left out, as though I don't belong.
Deny it all you like, but I know I was treated differently. Jai* (older brother) is the shining star of yours and dads lives. Others can see it to, it's not just me. You both fall over him as though he's king, like he can do no wrong.
Jack* (younger brother), well, he's the baby of the family (even though he's 16). He's a miniature dad, and of course, in your eyes, that makes him perfect.
Me? I fit no where. I don't pity myself, or wish that I did fit into this family, I just wish that for once you would take a step back and really look at the different ways we were treated. I felt like an outcast. It was as though everything I did was far more frustrating. As though I was - and continue to be - a strain on yours and dads lives. How do you think that made and makes me feel? Add that to my depression.
Apart from not being there for me, there are two things that you did that cut me the most.
1. You always made it about you. It wasn't about you. It was about me. I needed help and all you did was think about what you "could have possibly done". You should have thought about me. It's not always about me, but it was then. And you didn't care.
2. When I was finally diagnosed with depression, do you know what you said? You turned to me and said "I always knew you were depressed". Those words felt like a thousand knives piercing my heart. If you knew why, why on earth didn't you try to help me?! I could have been happy. I could of had some form of a normal high school experience. You told me once or twice that you never made me see someone because you knew I wouldn't talk. You obviously knew nothing. I went to bed for six years praying that you would send me to someone. I would have told them everything. I needed to.
Admitting you need help is one of the most hardest things. It would have been nice if I had someone to help me.
Did you know that my coping mechanism was to isolate myself? Do you know how much that impacts on me now? I currently can't open up to anyone. I opened up to you, my own mother, when I needed you the most and I was pushed aside. Now that's all I expect from people. To be pushed aside. If my own mother did, if she wasn't there, why would anyone else be?
I now suffer from social anxiety and just anxiety in general. No, this isn't directly linked to you, but do you think that if maybe you were there for me, I may not have isolated myself with fear, in turn avoiding this anxiety that over takes my life?
For all those years, I needed my mum. You weren't there. I had no one. Not a single soul. I shouldered everything on my own. Everything.
I want to forgive you mum. I really do. But right now, it doesn't feel possible. You have hurt e so much.
I have to go back on medication. You don't know that yet. I'm not coping.
The pain you and dad have caused me has cut me so deep it's left wounds. And sometimes wounds get infected. I lay awake each night wondering if they'll ever heal.