I’m not bitter with you, I feel sorry for you. I feel sorry that you didn’t want to be a part of my life and my successes. I feel sorry that you would rather be my biggest failure. I feel sorry that you chose a life without me in it. I feel sorry that I’ve accomplished so much in the last couple of years and you’ve heard nothing about it. I feel sorry that you have no right to be proud of me. I feel sorry that you will never be a part of my life again. I feel sorry that I let you hurt me as badly as you did. I feel sorry that I put so much trust and effort into building a relationship with you; a relationship that you just didn’t want. I feel sorry that I had faith in you. Most of all, though, I feel sorry that you will forever feel that I’m simply not good enough.
I look back on all of the times that we never shared together and I don’t get sad. Rather, I get a sense of pride in myself. I know how strong I’ve become simply because of your lack of love, compassion and existence in my life. I know how much better I am as a person without you.
I feel sorry that you will go to your grave, never acknowledging the damage you’ve done. I feel sorry that you will never hold yourself accountable. I feel sorry that you still live your life wreaking havoc on others and find no fault in that.
I feel sorry that you choose to surround yourself with thieves, liars and rapist and you spend your days covering up for them. I feel sorry that they are the way they are, because of you.
I remember all of the times I chose you over myself. I remember all the times I tried to keep you, and help you, only to have you stab me in the back. I remember standing before you as a defenseless four year old asking for protection from Paulie only to have you shame me and blame me for having been raped. I remember my silence over the years, keeping your secrets for fear of being shamed by others. And I remember the lies you told to make yourself look good; to cover up the heinous acts again me, out of all of them, “I love you” was my favorite.
Thank you, Mom, for causing me so much pain. Thank you for teaching me that no matter how bad I want someone in my life, some people, like yourself, are just not worth my heart. Thank you for teaching me that. Thank you for letting me down so many times that it forced me to be dependable, to count on me and no one else. Thank you for standing back and letting me struggle when you could have helped, when you could have stopped the rapes. Thank you for failing me so much it forced me in a better direction. It forced me to think a lot about what I meant to myself. Thank you for causing me such torment that it motivated me forward, gave me the strength to seek out the influence of others. Others that I inspired to be like. Others that were nothing like you.
I can only feel sorry for you. I can’t be mad because your decisions paint a picture of you and what your heart is made of.
The credit for where I am in life is given to my fathers wife, Sherry and your sister, Jean. They watched me hate myself, believe that being raped was my fault and they listened to me cry at night each and every time you knocked me down. They not only listened to me cry, they picked me back up, told me of my worth, taught me I was enough and loved me. They are the mothers to me that you failed to be. They are the mothers who care.
You were the first person to break my heart and you did that before I even knew I had a heart to break. You are a mother that doesn’t deserve a child. You are a mother that knew about the abuse and made a decision not to stop it. You made a decision not to protect me. That is what you get credit for. You don’t get credit for being a mother because a mother is something you have never been and will never be to me.
I hope you’re content with your decisions. I hope you are living the life you wanted to live. I hope you are proud of the person that you are.
If one day you find yourself thinking of me and want to come back into my life, don’t bother. It will be a waste of your time. I don’t need an apology from you. I don’t need to hear your voice again. I don’t need to know how you’re doing, where you are or “what’s new.” I don’t need to answer your questions or share any part of my life with you. I don’t need you, your apologies, or your approval. I am simply fantastic and I’m that way without you in my life.
I feel sorry for you.
I thank you.
I hope all of your decisions have made you happy.
I will not be there on the day you die. I will not attend your funeral. However, I do pray that God has mercy on your soul.
Want to read more of Kerri’s journey in healing? Check out these post:
Dear Rapist, an Open Letter to the One Who Abducted My Innocence
My Mothers Legacy of Shame – An Open Letter – From Me, the Daughter She Didn’t Protect
Love Letter to the Wounded child Inside
© Kerri Bishop Reece | Kerri Chronicles