My dearest daughter, you say you hate me. You say this with all the venom your 13-year-old soul can muster. Your eyes contract, you search deep within yourself to find all the hatred you have ever known and you give this to me. You hurl it, throw it, slam it, scream it, sob it, shove it in my face. Close and menacing.
Every word and sentence I speak is dissected, twisted, turned upside down and then delivered back to me with the most negative interpretation possible. Every attempt at physical contact – stroke, hug, kiss, fleeting touch – is rejected. You recoil from me. You avoid and evade me.
You are viewing: A Letter To My Teenage Daughter Who Hates Me
You have stopped talking to me, yet you accuse me of not understanding. I know so little; I want to know so much. You press every button known to you to get a reaction – sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, but every time it is wrong. Nothing is ever the right thing. To do or to say.
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I am not your friend, I am your mother. Nor do I want to be your friend, not yet, but there is something in me that still hopes this might be possible one day. Our relationship is changing from purely parental to something more akin to mentoring as you step out into your life and make your own mistakes. But you will not accept my guidance and as I watch you whirl through life, so destructive, my heart breaks for you.
I get it wrong all the time, but I am trying my best and I am as inexperienced at being a mother of a teenager as you are at being one.
I feel for the first time that I do not know what I am doing. I am struggling.
Today I walked for an hour in the evening sunshine sobbing at the loss of you. Deep primal sobs racked my soul, the tears would not stop. I miss you. So much. I am at a loss. My friends and the books tell me you will come back to me. I am afraid, my child, of the possibility that you will not.
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There are minutes, hours and days where I do not want to have anything to do with you because your behaviour is so abhorrent and hurtful. I do not know this person who hurls abuse and vitriol as if the words have no impact. Or perhaps you do it exactly because the words will have an impact, which leaves me wondering why you wish to hurt me so much. I have supported you through the toughest time in your life over the past three years, and now you are gone.
In those moments, I tell myself that this is a love that goes deeper than the words, the wounds, the broken things. It is a love that is basic, simple and true. And so I creep into your room when you are asleep and watch your perfect face, peaceful at last, and I stroke your hair very gently so as not to wake you and find the strength and resolve to do it all again tomorrow.
Because I am not giving up on you. I will continue to offer you love, support, hugs and time. Every day.
Your loving mother
Source: https://t-tees.com
Category: WHO
