Interrupted

My Life Thus Far
2005-08-02 01:48:35 (UTC)

Dear Annie

Dear Annie,

You're too young to understand what is going on right now,
and I'm grateful for that, because it isn't something I
want you to know about, even though eventually I know I'll
have to explain. I'm writing this letter because there are
many things I want to say, to apologize for and to get off
of my mind, but in reality, you're too young to
understand what I'm about to write and I don't want to
burden you unnecessarily, as I was as a child.

Your biological father loved you very much, even though he
never acknowledged you as his daughter. To you he was a
grandfather, and that was good enough for him. He kept the
truth a secret and so did I. I was ashamed of what
happened to me, not of you. And, of course, he didn't want
to get in trouble for the abuse he imposed on me. You were
never a shame to me. I've always been proud of you. You
are smart, funny, and incredibly beautiful. Everyone
thinks so, not just me.

I want to apologize for the way that I treat you the
majority of the time. I yell, when I should speak softly.
I don't pay attention to everything you have to say. I
look at you and I see your father. It's a really hard
thing to deal with. You embody all of the physical
features of the one human being thats hurt me the most in
the world. It's an unfair cross for you to bear and you
don't even know it yet. It's especially hard to look at
Kiki and you, because she's so much like you were as a
baby, but she is the mirror image of Daddy, whom I love
more than the air that I breath. I don't want you to feel
that I love your baby sister more than you, because I
don't. I love her differently. Her creation came from love
and I have no demons to fight when it comes to loving her.
You however, are a blessing. God gave you to me. You
coming into being was statistically unlikely, yet you are
here. I believe God has a purpose for you. That helps me
deal with the pain, but not totally. I have a lot of work
to do. But never doubt that I love you. I chose to have you,
I carried you for nine months, I gave you life, and I kept
you, when people told me I shouldn't (I was 16 when I had
you. No one thought I could handle a baby). I don't expect
you to be grateful for this, because you did not ask to be
born, nor did you ask to have me as a mother. You are
completely innocent of all of this.

You are six years old. You have a snotty attitude
(normal). You think you know everything (normal). I'm
always wrong (normal) and the world revolves around you
(also completely normal). But you are also well-behaved, and
people love you because of your vibrant personality. You're
creative and loving and I hate myself for not showing you
the affection you try to show me on a daily basis. You are
absolutely stunning (and I'm not just saying that because
I'm your mother). You have waist length sandy blonde hair
with just enough body to make women envy you. Your eyes
are a mesmerizing hazel that never can settle on gold,
green, brown or grey. The sun touches your skin and you
glow. I'm so lucky to have such a beautiful child, yet I
don't appreciate you enough, your excellent health, or the
fact that a piece of me will live on in you and your children
and your children's children. I'm not sure what is wrong
with me, but I'm going to find out, because I need to stop
hurting you, emotionally and mentally by not loving you
enough, talking to you enough, or spending enough time
hugging and cuddling you. I'm physically robbing you of
the intimacy all children need from their mother. It's vital
for your balanced development. I know this to be true, yet
I can't bring myself to do it. Your soft little hands touching
me is more than I can handle sometimes, because I don't
deserve your love. All I can say is, I'm sorry. I'll try to do
better.

I want you to know that I'm going to get help before I
cause you any permanant damage. I want you to know the
love you deserve and never have to look for it somewhere
else. Even if I don't show it enough, always know that you
are special and you are loved. That is why you are here. I
love you, Annie.

Love Always, Mama




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