How do you put into words the pain that has built up over 18 years? When I was living back at home, I felt like the days were a never-ending cycle of hate, love and absolution. I learned to see the in between. I learned that while you were my rock, you were also jagged and pointed and cruel. I learned that you are a devil, a punisher, a human. I learned that when the glass shatters across the wall, you have to be extra careful none of the pieces fell beneath the table. I learned the best way to avoid telling the counselor at school that you had a bad day without telling them that the bruise on my arm was because I dared to talk back. I learned that when you tell me that I should be responsible like an adult you really meant why can’t you do it right the first time…

When I was living back at home, I learned how when you smiled at me from the auditorium when I got my awards in third grade that you were truly happy and proud. I learned how when you missed my fourth-grade award ceremony because you were working that you can cry too. I learned that loving you is complex and I still don’t understand how to handle the pain. I learned that forgiveness must be earned and that you can’t just put food on the table but then never nourish my soul. I learned that God doesn’t answer your prayers if you don’t know what to pray for. I learned that to honor your father and mother doesn’t mean you have to respect them. I learned that a two-way street really meant a one-way road with a median for the other side. You think cars can come from the other side but in reality it’s nothing more than being told you are the child not the adult.

When I moved away from home, I learned that it was wrong that you treated me so poorly. I knew it in my heart but I could never truly hate you. I know how hard you worked. I know how much you struggled. I know that you had me because my father exploited you at such a young age. I don’t know if you could have ever said no, but you did when he asked you to abort me. You moved to America to find a better life for me and my younger brother. I know how much you hurt.

I don’t know if you ever knew how much you hurt me.

But it’s okay because I too can look past all the mistakes. I can walk from my front door to the mailbox and see that there is still garbage piled up on the front lawn that I’ve never really thrown away. Because what happens when I throw away all the baggage that you piled up onto me? Do you get forgiven? Is that the end of the road? Will you die never having known that you hurt me so?

When I moved away from home, I learned how to avoid your calls. I learned how to find an excuse not to pick up. I learned how mistakes can be forgiven and that I don’t need to scream and shout to be heard. I learned that I’m not a burden. I learned that I’m not a ball and chain that you drag to the top of the mountain. I learned that love isn’t implied, it should be said. I learned that I’m okay where I am. I learned that I’m enough. I learned that I’ve done enough. I learned that I deserve to be acknowledged.

When I came back to visit, I learned what a panic attack was. I learned what PTSD was. I learned what bittersweet love really meant.

When you die, I will learn that I might have loved you more than I thought. I will learn that I do love you as my Mom. I will learn to see you more than my judge, my jury, my defender, my provider. I will learn to see you as my Mom, to love you as my Mom.

I will never forgive you for all the pain that you have caused me, but I will learn to one day.