Open Letter To Mom

Sunday, August 20, 2006


Dear Mom,

This letter has been a long time coming. I have redrafted in 16 times. It has taken me 42 days to write it. Truth be told, it has actually taken me years to write it. Sometimes it is hard to do the important things in your life. But that is what life is about isn’t it? Facing the important things head on and dealing with the outcome.

I know this will be hard for you also.
Out of respect for me and yourself - I am begging you to read every word on every page.

You and I don’t see eye to eye. But we used to. We used to be so close, almost nothing could fit between us. Now – there is more than mountains. Bigger things than the Kootneys.

I love you. You know that. But what you don’t know is how much I think of you. That you are often the last thing on my mind before I fall asleep at night. That you are there in my thoughts as I drive to work most mornings. You are there everytime someone mentions their own mother.

If you knew, you would say – you don’t need to worry about me honey. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.
And I would feel like a little girl again for a minute and revel in that moment. And maybe even believe it for a bit.

We both know that it is not true. You’re a little girl right now in so many ways. And you have a lot of very big demons surrounding you. You are so deep, that you don’t think you can get out of this pit you are in. You think you are nearing the end of your life, and it is better to just give up. You want to just stop fighting the demons completely and succumb to their embrace. And you want acceptance. More than anything else, you want us to accept.

I am writing this letter to tell you that is never going to happen. To accept this bullshit way you have chosen to exist, is to give up on you. And I will not do that. I say exist, because what you are doing to yourself and this family cannot be called living by any stretch of the imagination.

Many mornings, I wonder why you have chosen this for yourself. And I wonder if even you know why. You have been denying it for so long…I think you can’t even so how the decline happened. You are ruining your life, and causing everyone who loves you so much hurt. I hate that part of you for it. I do. Because I love you so much – and I know the woman you used to be. And I remember how much I loved her and idolized her. And I want her back. More than anything, I want her back. Soon. Before you finally kill yourself with these choices.

I want at the end of your life to reflect on years of a relationship of love, happiness and giving between us. Of positive exchanges, sharing of ideas, of treating each other respectfully. Of earning each respect from one another. I don’t just want these things for myself – I want them for our entire family.

Most of all Mom, when you die - I want to be proud of you. I want people to know the struggles you have overcome in your life, and be able to say that you found yourself in the end and did it for your family. No one feels that way about you now. And you need to fix this. We all need to find the strength to help you – but most of all you need to find the strength and resolve to do it.

Life is an amazing gift. You who have held so many as they passed on from this life know that. You can not take a day for granted. You can’t take your loved ones for granted. Nor yourself.

You always talk a lot of smack about not being able to start rehab until you are ready. How we all need to accept you as you are. That would make it easy for you wouldn’t it? Why would you ever need to go to rehab if we all just accepted what you are doing to all of us?

Here’s the thing. We do not need to accept it. We don’t have to even include you in our lives. You may be our Mother – but it doesn’t give you the right to break our hearts and subject us to this stupidity.

What kind of woman would have children to do this to them? Was this your master plan when we were little? Booze yourself to death, lie and manipulate and ask your child that is struggling the most financially for money for cash when you blow it all on booze? WAS IT? No. It was not.

You really need to get your shit together.
You are better than this.
You are stronger than this.

Behaving like this is not acceptable. It is reprehensible and will not be tolerated by us. Can’t you see? You need to get to rehab or you are going to lose us. You really have all ready. We just pretend. Some of us play along more than others. We do it out of respect of what you used to mean to us.

Those days are gone. Now, we feel very little for the addict you have become. We talk. We all feel the same. Some of us are sorry for you. Some of us are not. Some of us don’t remember you any other way. Some of us long for you to get better. Some of us love you intensely out of respect of who you are – mother. Some of us say we don’t care. Some of us say it’s a sin and shake our heads. The thing every single one of us has in common is: we see through you.

I know this is tough. If you are still reading it, that is. I hate to see you cry. I hate to be the cause of it even more. But I am not a wimp. I am not someone to turn my back on my responsibilities. You raised me better than that. Sometimes I think I am the kind of person you had intended to be yourself. You can still be this person – step up and do it!

Now is not the time for talk anymore. Your words mean nothing to us. Now is the time for action. I have seen you play the ‘slow down’ the drinking game too many times to count. It is so fucked up. You just hide the booze and drink it in dark corners or behind closed doors. Before you know it – Sandy is in party mode again. Yes I am judging you. Harshly. Because Mom – I love you enough to speak the truth to you.

I have digressed from my last draft of this letter. It is hard not to. The emotions take hold and steer me down the page. It’s like driving down a winding hill, and the brakes don’t work. You just hope you can stay on the path….

I will try to get back to the last draft. It is out of care and concern that I am writing this to you. Sometimes I am mad and my tone is not one of tolerance. Sometimes I am sad for you, and my words are softer. Today I feel like laying it all on the line and sending this to you once and for all.

The last 10 years have not been kind to you. You have been snowballing down your path, and running over all the good things that have stood before you. Our relationship being one of the casualties.

Of course our relationship changed. I got smart to you and realized I had to protect myself. From my own Mother. I started to figure things out as a teenager. How many nights did I stand in that kitchen at 4015 with a knife in my hand thinking of killing myself? Too many. I have done a great deal of over-thinking, analysing, growing, blaming, healing and forgiving since you moved away from me. I feel strong, healthy and centred in my life. I am done pretending. Finished pacifying. Done sparing your dignity or the speck of self worth you have left . Now is the time for truth. For Reality.

I have worried for the future of our relationship. But I don’t see one anymore. We don’t connect. I have felt guilt. The guilt of someone who stands idle on the sidelines. The guilt of someone who has the opportunity to go on living – and takes hold of it.

This is really my final attempt to appeal to my mother. Not who you are now, but to the lady I loved and respected. She left along time ago. I want her back. She is worth whatever comes from sending this to you. Oh, I know you can be bitter, vengeful and full of spite. We all know it. And it’s not because you die your hair red. It’s because of your addiction, and the addictions of your parents. You are never receptive to the words I need to tell you. You always lash out. But in London – I had hope. You started to acknowledge what you have become. I actually treasured that. That little shred of possibility that there was a chance to get my Mom back. But you were such a jerk there. And I understood. Because your Mom died, and things were not good when she died. And I understood. Because I see myself feeling the same things and lashing out at the world the same way when it is you that passes on.

In London, I realized also what a hard time you are having managing your illness. In fact, I finally came to understand that it really was an illness. I have never seen you have DT’s before. It scared me. I was ashamed of you. It became obvious to me that you are killing yourself, and can’t even make the decision not to drink on your own anymore. And I was scared for you. I knew then that you are going to work drunk. How would you be able to function otherwise? You could not go 3 hours without alcohol. Your body won’t do it. Mom who are you now? Did you really see yourself like this at 50? As your own Mother? Didn’t you ever want more for yourself? Do you think you are any different than her? You are not. You are so not. You are your mother. And you don’t have to be. You are smarter and stronger. You have children that would support you in your journey to get clean. That treat you good.

You need to remember. Remember a time when you had more hope for your future. Remember your children, grandchildren and lovers. Don’t you want us to love you and think upon you fondly when you leave this life? Show us that we still matter. Honour us. Let us honour you. I sound like I am begging - because I am. I’m not too proud to tell you. If you were here, I would wrap myself around your leg and plead like a 3 year old if it would make any impact.

I really listened and took in everything you said about your parents when we were in London. The lack of stability. The poverty. The selfish choices they made. The responsibility that got pushed onto you. Once you were an adult, you lived a lie too with them too. Like we do - to try and maintain some semblance of a family, keep a connection. You pretended to accept, forgive and forget. Pretended to be a family.

You spoke so bitterly of your Mother and the choices she made in her final days. It was so ironic to listen to you! Like you were pulling my thoughts from my head, as though they were on a string. So much bitterness and yet you, who are so much younger than her – are making the same choices every day in your life.

I know what it is you went through as a child and then an adult. You felt that it was your role to bridge the gaps in your family. To ignore the pain of living in poverty, and going without. Of living amongst the alcoholism and the neglect. Holding onto the illusion of a closely bonded family. Trying to hold your family together, mentor your siblings. Having to behave like the adult, but not having the skills, experience and answers to fill the role.

I know you had it worse than me. I get that. It doesn’t make what we have went through acceptable. It certainly doesn’t make what you are doing now acceptable. What would make it all acceptable? For you to get better, acknowledge that the past is gone and done and to move on. Clean healthy and sober. Free from your addictions. Ready to rebuild your relationships and earn our love and trust back. By your actions. By keeping your promises. By staying sober.

You and I had always been close. I believe we know each other better than anyone else knows us. The secret us. The inner us. You know I can be judgemental, unbending and harsh. I know that you can be manipulative, deceitful and lonely. What is in common with these things we hate about ourselves? They are all products of the same thing - Your alcoholism.

I have tried to heal myself as I age. To become a better person. Removing that chip on my shoulder has not been easy. It’s what protected me. But it is not healthy, no conducive to my happiness. I know that I have to let it go. What I want is a full life. One that is full of honesty, truth, hope and love. If I live my life that way, and have those things, then it doesn’t matter if I live one more day, or 70 more years. I will be happy and have no regrets. Every day I am challenging myself to break the cycle, break down the defences caused by your disease.

Don’t get me wrong. I am grateful for the person I am today. I have a strong sense of self. I am made of strong character. I am a leader. I live everyday for me, and my family. And many people depend on me, feel grateful to be mentored by me. I have done good things for others because of who I am. I am considered to be a person of influence and held in great esteem by my peers. And I owe that in large part to you. I believed in what you saw in me. And I ran with it. For that I thank you. But you also made me strong because of the measures you put me through. It was painful. And I forgive you.

You always say you can’t stop drinking until you make the choice yourself. I always think about how you say that and ponder all it’s possible meanings. One thing that always sticks out to me is that you obviously recognize that this disease is about choices. You must then recognize that you have made daily choices that have made you this sick.

Everyday, you choose to lift that bottle, open that Rye. Toke that toke. It goes on and on and doesn’t end. Same choices day in, and day out. What do you think is ever going to be different for you? What will make tomorrow the day you ‘choose’? Your choices continue throughout the day until you pass out at the end of the night. Do you remember the last completely sober day you had? I bet you didn’t even enjoy yourself. You would have spent the day consumed with when and where that next drink was coming.

Mom, you are so far gone that’s it’s hard to see you coming back. Every day, I think when will she ‘choose’? When will she choose me? When will she choose her grandchildren? When will she choose herself? Her Lover? What in the hell will it take?

Tell Me - What Will It Take For You To Choose?
What Are You Waiting For?
What!?!
Do you think your life could get worse? Things are so bad Mom. Worse would only mean that you don’t have a roof over your head anymore, and you are screwing men for booze and drugs. It’s not a far cry from where you are now. You use men to feed your addiction. And you try to manipulate them to keep them hanging on. When they challenge you to choose them or the booze, they become dispensable. Throw away men. Like lives and love are not being affected. They are of no consequence. You are sick. This is not acceptable behaviour Mother.

You are so far gone, you would screw over your children or grandchildren to satisfy your urge. Your need to get that next drink, and the next, and then next…. If you didn’t have to piss, sleep or work I am not even sure you would leave the bar. You can’t stop once you start. This is no way to live a life.

When we call on you to be accountable for your behaviour, you pile on excuse after excuse. Then you lie upon lie to get out of it. It’s always someone else’s fault. A miscommunication.

Oh, we’ve been playing this game a long time now. We’ve heard most of them. We’ve seen you play the game with others. We know. Your story changes as you go. And this is your disease. You aren’t alone Mom. This is part of what alcoholism does.

I have been disappointed in you. But never so much as when I came down. How many times have I come to Creston? So few. Do you know why? Yes. You know why.

That last trip was one more tick to put on the reason list. You know damn well why I won’t stay at your house. Pretending you don’t know. I have told you straight out, and we spoke about it this year even. You aren’t stupid. Even if a conversation hadn’t taken place, you would know why. So, I come down. I try to have a relationship with you. One based on compromise, where I can avoid your booze and drugs. We make plans, so you can work around it and be prepared. We plan to catch you after work, early enough in the evening that you won’t be bombed out of your gourd. You bloody well know what you did that day. And I saw the look on your face at the bar. There was no ‘miscommunication’. Jesus Christ Mother! We are not stupid. And we talk. We prepare to deal with you. We try to plan what you are going to pull. We are your children and children of addicts know to prepare. We know what to expect. We are many things, but we are not stupid, and we will not be played against one another by you.

You looked like a little kid who got caught robbing the cookie jar. And then you quickly excused yourself and scurried out of that bar. Then you come into my vehicle apologizing, saying you lost track of time. Low and behold, by the time wee get to your house – you have formed a defence strategy and the story changes to ‘ you meant to call and cancel’. Imagine my surprise to be sitting at Corie’s house and hear you trying to convince her that I screwed up? I misunderstood? Dammit Mom!!! That is the kind of bullshit that you have to stop.

This is exactly why you need to get clean and sober. We hate you for playing these games. Hate you. And it kills us, and makes us cry. You break our hearts, and it makes us want to push you away. It makes us not pick up the phone when you call. It makes us argue who is going to have to talk to you when we are visiting Creston.

You are breaking our freaking hearts and you can’t be compelled enough to get off your ass and make a choice that is your to make? You rub our faces in the fact that this choice is yours to make? When and where you will it? You think when you say this that it makes everything better? It makes us furious! It makes us Depressed! It makes us Sad! It makes us broken. Because it means we don’t mean enough to you to choose sobriety. It validates that you are not going to choose us. And we cry. Everyone of us. And you just go on…oblivious to the pain you have caused us.

You just go on, believing that it is your option to choose when you want to.
That you can just make the choice when the time is right.
When the stars all align.
When what…..?
What will happen?
What is the important thing that will happen to compel you to finally get off your ass and put your mother fucking bottle down?

Because I am dying to know. My mornings and evenings are consumed with it. What will it be? What could it possibly be that will make you finally choose life?

The answer is you. But you know that. However, I also believe that the answer is me. I have to stop accepting and pretending. Reality sucks, but pretending allows you the comfort to avoid the choice. I am so fucking done allowing you to pretend. So tired of your ‘make your own choice’ bullshit.

Here’s the thing Mom. Each of us also has a choice we are allowed to make too. We have the choice to not put up with this anymore. We have the choice to not accept that we don’t rate high enough in your priorities to stop killing yourself everyday. I do not need to let you have the power over me. I am not an alcoholic. Why do I worry about one everyday? Why is this the single compelling thought I have? Why do I spend more time thinking about you and your disease then I spend working on starting my own family?

I have made the choice because you are important to me, and I don’t want to give up on you. But you are trying my patience. And the patience of everyone else. And Mom, there are people talking about you that you wouldn’t even think know about your disease. People are sick of it. And it is time for you to do something about it.

I am sick of getting screwed over. Of not being a factor in your ‘choice’ to be an addict. I matter and I am standing up to you. My siblings may not be ready but I am. And enough is enough. You are a grown woman acting like a teenager. The bar is a place you should go once a month not live. Booze is not something one should drink everyday out of necessity. The bar is not a place one chooses to go to over seeing a daughter she hasn’t seen in months.
WHERE IN THE HELL ARE YOU GETTING THESE PRIORITIES!?!
I am hostile. I am mad. And you are going to have to deal with me. I love you, and I will accept and embrace you. I will be all the things you need me to be – only if you will stop drinking. I will be your safe place to land. I will catch you when you fall. I will do whatever you need of me. You know I am dependable and worthy of your trust.

But you need to choose me. You need to choose our family and your grandchildren. Or I will hate you.
If you don’t choose us Mom, I will hate you for the rest of my life. I will never forgive you, and no one else will either. The only difference is that they may still be willing to waste the energy pretending.

But I am strong enough to take the stand. And this is it.

You need rehab. And I believe that your benefits would cover it. Employment insurance would cover you while you are away if your benefits will not – because it would be medical leave. I find it hard to believe that you would not have short term or long term that you could take for medical leave. You would not lose your job – you know this is a disease and you could sue if you did. Stop saying this bullshit. We don’t believe you. No one believes you.

My Mother is a fighter. She would find a way if there is anything left of her in there. Stop making excuses, and take some action. I want you to become personally accountable for your actions, to your recovery and this family. You need to take the steps. You absolutely must make it happen.

If you don’t spend a month in rehab – I will never believe that you are committed to this. You can’t do this alone. You can’t do it as an outpatient – you are too weak when it comes to the addiction. Your friends are losers that will be jealous if you succeed, and will try to drag you back down. You need to get strong so you can deal with them. Expunge them from your life. They mean nothing. They certainly shouldn’t be more important than your children. God help you if you choose them over us Mom.

It pains me to say this next part. But understand that I don’t come by it lightly. Seeing you drunk, stumbling towards the house with my baby nephew in your arms. Kissing Vivian with your boozy breath. Those visions have reinforced my resolve. And here finally is where I stand:

If you don’t stop drinking by the end of the year - I am done with you Mom. I mean it. I don’t know what else to do. And I can’t stand by and watch you do this to yourself.

I love you too much and the pain is too great.

>^..^<