Dear Mom,
I'm still mad you died. I miss you always, but I'm not going to lie when I say that there is a frightened 10 year old inside of me asking "Mommy are you going to die today?". At the time you said "No, Catherine. I'm not going to die today". I don't remember those mornings but you insisted at Macy's 10 years later that I did. I'm mad, but you know that was the only emotion that seemed to register. I was always such a sensitive kid.
Things are pretty difficult right now, I go to therapy (I can kind of afford it). I remember you saying "Everyone should have a therapist, it's great to have someone to bitch at", and it was funny at the time, it still is or it would be if I didn't need it so badly. I got myself a self help book the other day, it made me think of the one you got me in high school when I was sad. They've got names for me now, and I'm sick, and it's frustrating. I'd like to blame you. I love you. You left me. I know it wasn't your fault. I wish you'd hung on a little longer so I could really say goodbye.
I'm going to get better, because I want to. I want my life, the one you gave me. Even when the waves of my emotions knock me down, I remember the beauty inherent in the world. I've found true beauty, and I think I'm worthy of it, for once. I've learned to no longer be afraid of the word, because it doesn't mean what I was worried of. I want to stop worrying.
I know I am loved. I may not always believe it, but I know it's there. And in the darkness I definitely see the little lighthouses, the people who guide me back to shore when I've wound myself up in the sea inside myself.
I love you, mom.
Always,
Cat
I'm still mad you died. I miss you always, but I'm not going to lie when I say that there is a frightened 10 year old inside of me asking "Mommy are you going to die today?". At the time you said "No, Catherine. I'm not going to die today". I don't remember those mornings but you insisted at Macy's 10 years later that I did. I'm mad, but you know that was the only emotion that seemed to register. I was always such a sensitive kid.
Things are pretty difficult right now, I go to therapy (I can kind of afford it). I remember you saying "Everyone should have a therapist, it's great to have someone to bitch at", and it was funny at the time, it still is or it would be if I didn't need it so badly. I got myself a self help book the other day, it made me think of the one you got me in high school when I was sad. They've got names for me now, and I'm sick, and it's frustrating. I'd like to blame you. I love you. You left me. I know it wasn't your fault. I wish you'd hung on a little longer so I could really say goodbye.
I'm going to get better, because I want to. I want my life, the one you gave me. Even when the waves of my emotions knock me down, I remember the beauty inherent in the world. I've found true beauty, and I think I'm worthy of it, for once. I've learned to no longer be afraid of the word, because it doesn't mean what I was worried of. I want to stop worrying.
I know I am loved. I may not always believe it, but I know it's there. And in the darkness I definitely see the little lighthouses, the people who guide me back to shore when I've wound myself up in the sea inside myself.
I love you, mom.
Always,
Cat
