Dear Mom

Contrary to popular belief (or maybe just yours) I don’t hate you. I actually love you quite a lot. It’s just that I don’t always like you very much. You are loud, obnoxious, presumptuous, hard to live with, hard to talk to, difficult to relate to. You are very accepting while equally judgemental; hypocritical, messy, unorganized, and dedicated. You are a fighter, a lover, a believer, and an enthusiast. You have a special kind of creative genius while still holding onto your own brand of simplistic madness. You are everything on the scale of 1 to patient, as well as defensive, over-and-under protective, and have more resolve and perseverance than anyone I know. I hate it when you cry – but not because it makes me sad. It just makes me uncomfortable. I wish you would stop taking it personally when I don’t want to be touched and I wish you would get high with me more often. You are a terrible drunk in that you often surpass friendly and funny to go straight to mean and obnoxious. There are many time I would have felt less resentment towards you if you had just had a little less wine. But I want to do a lot of tequila shots with you. Stop painting your fingernails – we both know you’ll take it off within 24 hours. You still bring me coffee in the morning because I don’t have the heart to tell you I’m detoxing form it and just pour it down the sink after I tell you I really enjoyed it. I know it’s a waste but it’s the only thing you do to show me you care that doesn’t aggravate me and for that I’m sorry. You’re terrible at compromise but then again so am I so for that I’m sorry too. That doesn’t make it okay though – for either of us. Stop commenting on what I wear because every time I change my clothes I regret it and I’ll listen to you because you’re my mom and you know best – except when it comes to my closet sometimes you probably don’t. I always wanted to be as pretty as you were when you were young and I think I’ve made it so thank you for half of my genes. Thank you for standing by my even when I was wrong, and for apologizing when you didn’t when I was right. I’ll probably never forgive you for having me so young (if that is something to forgive someone for) but not because you haven’t raised me well. It’s because in you still needing youthful experiences I lost a lot of mine. But thank you for that also, my maturity has brought me far. You are selfless, majestic, and inspirational. Keep changing and stop trying to change everyone around you. Remember I am not your therapist. My life would have been a lot less stressful if you didn’t tell me all – or even some – of your problems. You’ve done well. I hope you’re happy. Or getting there. Stick with it.

Chortlechortlechortle, Pants

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