A place for a

06.10.2015

Final letter to my mother

In the course of trying to become more honest, I figured I would send messages to all people I ever knew, telling them what I really thought of them. Guilt and shame overwhelmed me during the course of that endeavor. I insulted girls who had hurt me, making the bill even. I told my false friends that I despised them. I got into trouble for it. It was freeing.

And yet I could not stop. The satisfaction was temporary. And that made one thing obvious to me: It was not those girls I really had a beef with. It was the one woman I saw in all those girls, the one woman I was fighting through the proxy of other girls. The one woman to whom I was really pretending. The one woman whom I really feared to know me.

I showed my true self to all the women who had hurt me. But I realized that there is only one woman who has to know me. Realized that all the other women do not matter. Realized that there is one woman to whom I never dared to show my true self. Never dared to speak up to earnestly. That woman is my mother.

The thought of writing all these important and disgusting things filled me with shame and guilt and fear. It took me three weeks to finally sit down and write this letter. Now, the letter is on its way. Now, my mother must know me, whether she wants to or not.

Now that my mother will know who I am, there is no one I must ever feel ashamed of myself towards again. The next time somebody accuses me of being an asshole, pathetic, not nice or impolite, my mother will not be watching over my shoulder.

I will say: Yes, that is me. And shrug.

The voices in my head always and mercilessly competed, because I had not yet spoken up to the one big source of voices in my head. Had assigned mystical powers to it. To her. My failure to speak my mind robbed me of the courage to think my thoughts. Now I have spoken my mind.

Next time, the mother in my mind will have been put in her place, her looming expectations of me finally fought off with the courage to put myself first, no matter how miserable that self.

Maybe this is too optimistic. Who knows. But I know one thing: I hope to never see her again.

Most people’s published letters to their mothers reek of gratitude and love. Mine reeks of contempt and hatred.

The letter

Hello [first name of my mother],

I received your letter.

You disgust me. You write that you love me. You write that you would do anything for me. So why can not you grant one simple request? Leave me alone.

I hate you. So deeply that I would love nothing more than to kill you. I do not know why. You are crazy.

You did not respect my private sphere when I lived at home. You slept in my bed without pants. You threw my skull out of the window because you went mad. When the police was in the house, you were on their side. When we were at the owners of our housing, you were on their side.

When we had a debate, you played the victim and I was the bad one. You gave me away to the state. Because you could not manage me. And somehow it was my fault. No, it was not, you damn cow. You failed. Not me. I was only a child. What do you think, that I was born bad, born simply to torment you, or what? I needed a healthy mom and dad, needed someone who understands, who will teach me to live, teach me to have my own life.

But nobody was there. I was alone. But even that you could not let me have. I still had to take care of you, be nice, put up a pretense. You love me? Shit, you do not even know me! Everything that you know about me is an illusion.

When I failed with a girl, you as a woman knew that women like an independent and arrogant man. After all, that is exactly how you chose yours. Instead of being honest to me and letting me be a man, you pitied me. Because I was useless to you as a man, you needed me as a slave who will be nice to you and take care of you.

When I wanted to lose weight, you never supported me. You kept offering me things, even though I said I did not want them.

When I was sad and wanted you to take me into your arms, instead, you moved weirdly so that I took you into mine. When I needed you, you had nothing to give, instead you just took. As long as I can think back.

You are a sick cow and instead of letting me be a man and independent, you wanted me to be your servant who will take care of you. One that will be nice. Men are not nice.

I was a baby. I needed you to be there for me, not the other way around. What do you think a baby can do to help you with your problems? Shit, I was just a kid. I did not understand. I did not understand the tragedy of your life and it was none of my business.

And then the shit with your suicide. And giving me the blame for it. And not even admitting it. You and grandma, you are in it together. Both of you should be ashamed.

And then you came into my flat. MY flat. And you told me how to live my life. And you were sitting there like a stone statue and staring at me as if I did not exist or was the devil. Shame on you for that.

You have no right. No right to expect anything from me. I do not owe you anything at all, not even a little. This is my life. And you wanted it for yourself. I do not belong to you, you ugly fat bitch.

No one will ever love me like you do? I do not feel loved. Not at all. Not even a little. I do not feel any love from you, just guilt. Guilt and gifts with which you attempt to drown it. Perhaps I would be more glad if you were honest and did not pretend that you love me. That is okay.

You do not love me, you just need me.

You do not love me. You can not. Because you do not know me.

I have fantasies of murder and rape. I look at porn. I would like to shit in a girl’s mouth. I hate women because I hate you. You revulse me and I am terribly afraid of you, probably from a time when you were stronger than me.

I hate you so much that if I saw you again, I guess I would crush your skull, so much you revulse me. That is how much I am terrified of you. That much I hate you.

Now that you know, do you still love me? Or did you just love some kind of ideal, a nice son who does not exist? You love the person that I am? Because if so, you should want me to have the life that I want. A life without you.

I was born by you and I am somewhat thankful for it. That is the only reason I do not ring your bell and crush your face.

If I see you one more time in my life, expect it to happen. Expect me to jump at you like a madman and hurt you a lot. I would rather have you kill yourself for good, successfully this time. At least I would have some peace and the knowledge that I will certainly never see you again.

If you understand this, and if you really love me – if you even can – you must understand that you can not be a part of my life.

If you understand, I will allow you to write me back. But nothing about you. No apologies. I do not want to hear that bullshit anymore. I will allow you to write me ‘Okay. You never have to see me again. ‘ That, and nothing more. Nothing extra. Just a piece of paper in an envelope, sent with the post – do not dare to come here. Write it with a computer, and write the address on the envelope with a computer. I do not even want to see your handwriting. I do not want the letter to smell good. In short, I only want the information, nothing more.

If you write me that, maybe someday I will forgive. Now I can not, no way. If you fulfill my wish, to have my peace from you – and granny – forever, then you give to me the one thing that I really desire.

I do not want your help, your advice, your money, nothing. If you dare to send me anything other than that piece of paper I allowed you, I will come to your house and I will smash your face. Do not write that you love me. Do not write that you are sorry. I do not give a fuck and will hurt you if you dare to talk to me about love or something like that.

And finally: I am sorry that I am not the nice son whom you wanted. Who will take care of you. I am sorry that I pretended. I really just wanted some love and acceptance. But not acceptance for posturing. I wanted to be loved for what I really was. But you never cared. You only wished for a nice son. Well, I am not, sorry. I failed your expectations. But I wanted to live nonetheless, so I somehow had to pretend. Pretend to like you.

And in that lies my fault. My fault is that I feigned. But I was just too much afraid of what you would have done it if I was myself. A man. If you would have sent me away again. Or called the cops. Or cried and accused me.

Well, now it is just a memory.

You are a terrible person. I would like to not know you. Until this day I am ashamed of being a man. Ashamed of my sexuality.

No, it is not my dad’s fault. I am mad at him, too, and I will write him, but that is none of your fucking business.

No, it is not exclusively my dad’s fault, because you are mad. I do not even know what is wrong with you. Maybe your dad raped or beat you or something like that. I do not even want to know, it is your problem.

I do not know who you are. I know two faces. The face that despises me and the face that adores me. I do not know who you are. You are not a person for me. Only a robot who keeps giving me gifts or treats me like a piece of shit.

And frankly, I do not want to even know about you anymore. Once I cared, today I do not.

I read that people have similar experiences and feelings when their mother has a Borderline Personality Disorder. I read that something can be done about it.

As a person, I wish you to find a way to have a happy life without me. To beat your demons. Wish you to be able to forget me, live your own life, live out your own personality. To find a man, maybe. But mostly I wish you that you will be able to find contentness even without a man.

But I do not want to know about it. I do not want to ever see you or hear from you again. If you fix your life, I do not want to know about it. It is your life and none of my business.

You have no right to establish contact with the exception that I mentioned. The same applies for granny.

I do not know how I deserved such a family, such a life. But so what. Now I have said all I wanted to say. Now you finally know me. Finally I stop pretending.

Tom

2 votes

2 Pingbacks/Trackbacks

  • Pingback: Final letter to my mother | Manosphere.com()

  • Micah Geni

    A strong and thought provoking letter. Memories stream. Should let them sink down a little

    Many similarities. One is tempted to think if they’re made of the same material, or maybe their is this school somewhere, where they learn “how to not behave”. Consciously ? Probably not.

    If someone ever asks you, “what did you do for the world then ?”. I’ll tell you. There are a lot of young and fresh therapists that can learn inmensly from your writings. Which again can really benefit upcoming children and youngsters. Probably save lives too. It really takes balls, introspection and language skill, to express what you do here. This isn’t exactly the “latest trend in cosmetics”-blog :), your blog has real value.

    • What I have to add to this world? Maybe being the manifestation of it’s errors in the greatest purity you can possibly achieve. No father, dead uncle, dead grandfather, no male models at all. Top the perfect confusion off with: Mad mother in the guise of a caring mother.

      • Micah Geni

        I hear you.

        If I had any contact these days, with my bro, I’d link the article to him.
        I learned from his “mistakes”, which frankly weren’t mistakes. He was trying to please our “mother”. I remember we bought a gift for her birthday, or was it x-mas. He had spent time and energy to get it and to afford it. “Why do you give me that thing ? What am I suppose to use that for ? I dont want it”, was her response.

        I kind of learned early on, damned if you do, damned if you dont, so I guess I sort of shut off. I forgot what I actually wanted. There wasn’t any room to show it or to be happy about it anyway. I guess I lost myself, as the cliche goes.
        If I was visible happy or excited about something coming up, she’d find a “job” for me, so that I couldn’t attend the planned happening. Not always, but quite often. I learned that the “game” essence was: If you want something, dont show it, dont ask for it…. The other way too. When she punish, dont show that you (I) care..
        I guess she kind of grew bored of me. Lost interest. Kept me kind of as her son, since I did well in school. If I hadn’t done well there, she’d probably find some reason to kick me out. Playing the victim.

        So with some women, I can safely advice you that if you still want to have sex with them, pretend to be “gay” :-)

        I pushed her on these matters. Well I have done it several times, but some years back, she seemed a little “open” for input. As “always”.. Denial and excuses and then guilt-tripping. “You were a lousy kid. What was I supposed to do. Your father was the biggest asshole on the planet…” yadda yadda…. She did stop calling me and she did respect that wish of mine. That I needed time to be alone.
        So several months later, I just found a stupid excuse to drop by. Just 5 minutes. Even wondered whether she was alive or not (They always survive, so there was no need to worry).
        She actually appeared to be happy and glad. I must admit, that I felt okay, when I left again.

        That is sort of the level of it now. Once in a while, a visit or a chat 1 hour. I leave if I feel things are reverting. I also leave before they start reverting.
        Wouldn’t at all call the relationship fantastic, but in it’s weird way, it is kind of okay. I guess it is as good as it does get. I am not gonna sacrifice for the relationship, so the boundaries are pretty strict.

        It does sink in. To some level. Not very deep. But maybe a little bit more by each year. Not that we talk about it, but occasionally she mentions something from and about the old days. As if it as thing that she has been thinking quite a bit over. Just dont expect to much if you end up in a similar situation. It is what it is.

        • That sounds cruel as well, my friend. So very different from the nature of my mother, but on the other hand so much more honest. In a sense, I feel the same way you do – only that my mother always seemed so nice in her good moods. People regularly tell me that I have such a nice mom. It had me question my sanity. If she is so good, what is wrong with me that I hate her? Why am I revulsed when she comes at me, smiling, claiming she loves me? And then the mixed signals. Telling me I was a great man, but saying it with a tone of pity. Oh, how much I wish to be accepted and appreciated as a man. Really, honestly, without pretense.

          So with some women, I can safely advice you that if you still want to have sex with them, pretend to be “gay” :-)

          What the fuck, man?

          I can not imagine wanting to be in contact with her, ever again. Why bother? Why not instead find nurturing and fulfilling relationships? Why would I waste my time with such a bothersome venture?

          • Micah Geni

            Only bother if it does give you something. If it doesn’t I agree.

            What you explain here is typical. Nice to other kids. “Your friend is such a nice little boy. Why cannot you be more like him”.

            I once replied that why couldnt she be more like my friends father. She slapped me :-). Thats narcissism. Double-standards..

            Last time at hers, out of nothing, she told that she hadn’t seen bro in 15 years. I know he has seen her, but he looks he other way and avoids her.
            Apparently she does think about “the past n stuff”, just doesnt seem to bother her a whole of a lot, but a bit. Of course, she is the victim and he is the villain. But you know. If she really only felt that was the only truth, she would probably not have mentioned the issue at all.
            I just shut up. I expect she wanted me to concur.

          • I once replied that why couldnt she be more like my friends father.

            Haha, brilliant! My mother would have become sad and said: Oh, I wish I could, I really wish I could, oh pitiful me.

            But you know. If she really only felt that, she would probably not have mentioned the issue at all.

            Even if she feels more, it does not imply connection. Only guilt.

            Guilt can help her to forgive herself. Remorse, if she felt any, could help you two forgive her. But it is no soil to root a relationship in. I think. What do I know, anyway? I am just a kid.

          • Micah Geni

            Guilt can help her to forgive herself. Remorse, if she felt any, could
            help you two forgive her. But it is no soil to root a relationship in. I
            think. What do I know, anyway? I am just a kid.

            I think it sounds very good.

            It is also about the personality. I cannot really forgive my brother for many things he did, but the basic problem is and maybe always was, personality mistmatch. He is more an ENTJ

          • Maybe forgiveness is not neccessary. I think I did my own share of things that are hard to forgive. The best I can do to make up for it is to leave these people alone. As I am convinced that that is what my mother should grant me.

            Some things you can not fix.

            And maybe that is good. Maybe fixing is not needed. Maybe the scar is at the right place, protecting from further harm.

          • On the other hand, it may have depended on her mood. She may have answered with spite, too. But I repressed those memories and projected them on myself. Somewhere in myself, I concluded that whenever she treated me badly, it was because I deserved it, because I had done something bad to her. Because I WAS bad.

          • Micah Geni

            Somewhere in myself, I concluded that whenever she treated me badly, it
            was because I deserved it, because I had done something bad to her.
            Because I WAS bad

            That guilt-trippng gaslighting shit. Creates Manginas.

            Gotta let it go. It wasn’t your fault. As you probably have come to realize when you google around and read similar stories from other children of the same type. Yet, one has to rebuild oneself. And I know that you’ll be fine and come out as a very wise “older” man :)

          • And I know that you’ll be fine and come out as a very wise “older” man

            And an angry one. No one is taking my anger away from me, ever again.

          • Micah Geni

            Good experiences in life, will. The thicker the layer of good experiences becomes, the less energy left to waste on being pissed about the past.

            What if “luck in life” is randomly distributed. Yu have had your dose of bad experiences and luck. So now comes the better ones :)

          • It is less about being pissed than about the ability to fight off those who piss me off. No more Mr. Nice Guy, eh.

          • Micah Geni

            Healthy boundaries, your talking about.

            “No more Mr. Nice Guy” has a negative and pessimistic tune :)

            Cheers. Later

          • Only to your naive jolly ears.

            Later.

  • thordaddy

    I think the most important thing for you now is just a recognition of your legitimacy as yourself and yourself alone (assuming you are not purely evil). You have a right to exist as yourself and that right always existed. The madness of your mother seems to have had you entirely uncertain about the legitimacy of your existence for a very long time. At some point though, pure hate will no longer satisfy and satiate your notion of a legitimate existence. You will someday require something more fulfilling and regenerating.

  • thordaddy

    Science has *you* an easily predicted archetype. The setup is liberated white male and liberated white female both valuing radical sexual autonomy. The result is a self-annihilating progeny. The “achievement” is a “default elite.”

    • Micah Geni

      The “modernity”. These ideas keeeedz get these days. “Radical feminism”.. Luckily I was good at sports and school and more. So I won a lot in sports. I guess I stopped dreaming about the goals before I was 20. It was always an anti-climax to reach the top. The process was over. What now then ? The price wasn’t worth it, but the whole process of getting up there, had been interesting and enjoyable.

      So we have these women who sacrifices a lot, for a career.. And when they reach “top”, they are still not fulfilled. “What da fack.. Im supposed to feel great now.. “.. Hard to realize that one has wasted the possible 20 most interesting years in life. Even more, for some. Most eggs in the same basket.
      What you do then ? Go crazy ? Neh.. most just continue, even more determined than before.

      Im not sure if it is worth it, mentally speaking. Never Enough.

  • Pingback: Dark realism: thoughts from the western Single Mother Societies progeny. | pop~agenda~culture()

  • Deanie Dean

    ” I hate women because i hate you”

    That is the strongest sentence i’ve seen in awhile, the product of a single mother family. The disease that has gripped the western world and the world at large. I have opened like 10 new tabs from this page alone btw. Awesome style of writing , really engaging, would recommend you keep this style man.

    • Thanks man. I try to write from my heart, so I can not predict what will come out or whether it will change. Of course, I sometimes muddle the voice of my heart with my ego to make it sound more fancy. :)

      • Deanie Dean

        Hey man , i was just working on some online biz that quote hit me so deep. It had me thinking about alot of stuff related to this.

        Even though you may have just said this out of anger, there may very well be a sapling of truth to this. Do men’s relationships with women get predetermined by their relationships with their mothers?

        Anyways i’m fully liking this website, where can i subscribe mate?

        • Well, the idea is not exactly new. I believe that Freud was a big proponent of those mother issue ideas. From my own experience, it is very true. Basically, I think it comes down to these two components:

          1. When you feel that your mother rejected a part of you, you always subconsciously – until you become aware of this – feel that every woman is feeling the same way about this part of you. Even if that is not true.

          2. When you reject a part of your mother, you kind of reject the same part in yourself, if only in your feminine archetype. In the best case, this will make you emotionally duller. In the worst case, every second thing you do will be tainted by you being afraid that you are acting like your stupid mother.

          I used to have a newsletter thingy, but I failed to pay the last bill and they canceled it. You can use a simple RSS reader, though.

          • Deanie Dean

            For me, my mother was a compulsive liar. Saying she’d give me 100 pound per GCSE certificate. I worked my arse off like never before and came out with an 10 A*-Bs (not even C’s i kid you not.)

            I go home to her lying on her back watching the TV (favourite position , does this for 10+hours a day sometimes) and come home with the biggest smile of my face, proud of my achievements and show her the certificates:

            “Mom look , i got 10 GCSE’s!! Aren’t you proud of me!!”

            I kid you not , she quite literally laid there replying “Do i look like i’m not happy? What do you want , a clap?” defensively, trying to avoid the topic.

            I press on and she haggles it into 30 pounds… 1000 pounds—>30 pounds…

            She always had this thing where she couldn’t GIVE.
            *Give me credit and praise when i worked hard.
            *Give me the promised amount of money agreed on.
            *Give me permission to go out with my friends.
            *Give me pocket money (sometimes for months at a time)
            *Give me a SMILE.
            *Give me honesty (lied her way out of everything.)

            What’s a mother that can’t give? I feel like this was all just so she can extract maximum value out of me and expend minimally so she has a trained dog that will clean her shit when she grows old (with minimal investments mind you.)

            This is probably why i lied to her about everything:
            *I’m going to the library—>hanging out with friends.
            *My friend gave this bike to me—-> stolen.
            *My friend gave these games to me —> bought with drug money.

            I became a juvenile delinquent , always passive aggressive and would lie to my mom about everything, i guess i also wanted to give minimal value and extract maximum value out of her also.

            Thankfully the last few years i’ve fixed up and can say im doing much better than the average slob , though i’ve still got ways to go. I’m just glad i didn’t go into the deep end with the drugs and fighting and stuff.

            This resonates so much with me. Where can i read more mate , do you have any book recomendations or posts that go into detail about this stuff? And i just followed you on disquss if that’s what you mean.

          • Heh, that sucks. I will just pass on to you something a very valued friend said to me when I started with meditation and all that. He told me that it is okay to be angry at my mother, but for my own sake, I would sooner or later have to find a way to let go of the pain and forgive her. I liked him saying it like this, because he was not saying I was bad for being angry, but also encouraging me to move forward eventually.

            Everybody in this world has their reasons for acting the way they do. You see, you started to lie and get into shit because of the way she treated you. You can assume that she treated you like shit because she also experienced some form of abuse in her life. When pain comes to us, we tend to attach to it and then we tend to pass it on to others. In a way, we become that which we despise. This is also very hard for me to accept. Sometimes I look into the mirror and study my face and see something about it that I hate; and when I look longer, I realize it is my mother I am seeing.

            Unfortunately, I have no book on it. But I don’t think it is so important. For me, meditation has given me most of those insights. Before you actually feel into this stuff in yourself, it is all just theory and does hardly solve anything. In fact, you may end up just accumulating more fuel to put into the blame-cannon to shoot at your mother – sorry if I am projecting here. The best thing, in my opinion, is to look into yourself and find out what is true. And when you find it out that way, you will want to blame her less and less, because you realize that it just is the way it is – not good, not bad, just what it is. Of course, that may not be the right way for you. Who knows. Follow your gut/heart and do what feels right. :)

            Here are two publications I personally liked, maybe you will find some value in them:
            – The Power Of Now, by Eckhart Tolle
            – This website: http://gettinbetter.com/articles.html

            Sure, you can follow me on Disqus. What I meant, though, was RSS. You can download an RSS reader app or use an email client like Thunderbird and simply add the link to my website and it will grab all the new articles and notify you.

            Thanks for sharing your story with me.

          • Deanie Dean

            Yh , though i’d say the main parts it fucked me over is that to this , to some degree i find it difficult to give value to people including girls. I often come off as quite cold though i’m really not. . I could really like a girl and have an awesome relationship with her and it fucks up when i start closing up and just taking.I know it’s not “alpha” to say this but it’s the truth.

            Will try to implement that stuff, mainly gonna have to look deep inside tbh, 2 decades of habits will take a while to break.

            alright, downloading the app now. I feel like this place might turn into a gathering of men with mother issues in a few months LOL!

          • I get what you are saying. One thing that is a bit hard to learn is not to judge yourself, like for not being alpha or whatever. If you are closing up, you are doing it for a reason. Forcing yourself to open up is not the solution. Feel into it, thank that impulse for being there. Ask it why it is there. Ask it what it is doing for you. I did something like that with fear. I asked it why it was there and guess what, it was there to protect me. So I was no longer angry at that fear and realized it just wanted to help me. You closing up is there for a reason. Everything is.

            If course, if you are judging yourself, don’t judge yourself for judging yourself. Eh. It goes in circles. I think it is really about finding the flow and in the end, as another commenter here remarked, figuring out how to do nothing at all and just let your body resolve the problems on its own.

            And maybe – I am no expert, by the way, still in the process – instead of trying to break the habits, try to understand them. If your goal is simply to break them, you approach them with hostility in a way and they may not reveal their meaning to you, because you will not be really listening and clouded by your prejudices. Surely even the parts you consider your worst served you well in the past, so try to honour them, like everything in yourself.

            Oh, I doubt it. I don’t get that much exposure and it has been about constant for the past year. But thanks, I appreciate it!