DEAR MOTHER-
Dear Mom-
I thought you would like to know who I am as a person. Pretend that we are just being
introduced for the very first time and just go with it.
My name is Mandi. I don’t really like being called Amanda, because I don’t think that it
fits my personality. Amanda is formal, and simplistic. Mandi is supposedly an out-of-date
name used primarily in the ‘sixties. (It’s true, I looked it up in a name book.) I love my
middle name. It is beautiful. Katrine. Thank you for naming me. Did you pick out these
names, or did Dad? I feel like they came from you and not him.
In addition to my name, I also want to thank you for having me. I know that being the
fourth child I was most likely NOT planned or anything. And seeing as how all your other
children were three years apart (I am the only variable to that pattern) this seems like the
likely conclusion. I am grateful beyond words for the nine months that you carried me,
and the day that you gave birth to me. Although I do not remember it, I know that it is
the most beautiful thing that has happened to me thus far. I am appreciative of your labor
(in both senses of the word) and the strength that it took to make me possible.
I will forever be thankful to you for being such a great mother when I was a child. I
always looked to you for protection, safety, and guidance. I knew that I could learn what
I needed to learn from you. A mother is someone who is there before the child even
knows what the word means. You were wonderful when I was a child. I tell myself every
day that when I have children I will parent them exactly how you did for me- but only until
a certain age. You taught me to tie my shoes (a skill to use forever), to read a book (I will
never stop using this, and I love you for teaching me), and you taught me how to love the
people who are always there for you. You were always there for me. But I grew up. I
am now older than you were when you got married. I have taken all the things that you
taught me, and applied them to my own life. Yes, I do have a life outside of this house. I
will always recognize that my body is actually 50% of your body, and 50% of Dad’s, but
my personality and my consciousness is the result of nearly 18 years of outside influences
and voices that consisted of more than you and him. My outer environment has
contributed to who I am now, and I still have more to learn. Life is one giant learning
experience, and I understand that when you have learned something, you must pass this
information along so that no one misses out. But the way that you have attempted to
teach me what you know only appears to me as anger and attempted control.
When I was a child, you were content with being my mother. I know that this is true
because you knew what to do. Your instincts knew that I was this tiny ball of clay that
needed to be shaped into something beautiful. Something to be proud of. Thank you for
shaping me, and I wish you could be proud of me. But there are so many other people in
my life who added their initials to my pretty ball of clay. And I am thankful for their
characteristics as well. But what I am always afraid of is that you don’t realize how
wonderful your ball of clay is. It is no longer stationary in one place. My ball of clay is
animated now, and it knows how to shape itself. You taught me how to shape myself.
I don’t need you to guide me right now in my life, because I feel like I know what I am
doing. I apologize if you are shaking your head at this right now and are thinking to
yourself, “There she goes again, thinking she knows what she is doing. She really believes
this load of crap that she is saying.” I am sorry that you think this is a load of crap, and if
you are actually nodding your head right now, instead of shaking it, then thank you for
realizing that I do understand.
I understand that you were happiest when I needed you to hold my hand to help me across
the street, or walk me to the store. You are happiest when a child is needy- when they
come to you, instead of you going to them. Now that I have become myself, and
embraced that, I feel like I don’t need to go to you anymore, and I am afraid that you
don’t know what to do now. I am proud of your new venture into the business world.
Even though I make fun of you for it, I really am happy that you find solace in your book
buying and selling experience. I am proud of the financial gain, but more importantly-
your happiness. I was honestly happy for you when you said you had earned over two
hundred dollars in one week and your smile was so wide when you stated this. This is
something to continue- definitely.
But when thinking of how wonderful you are with children, this made me think back to
last summer- when I broke my back. You seemed happy then. Obviously not happy that I
nearly lost my life, and not happy during the long hours of my surgery- but you seemed
happy that I once again needed you. It was a little different, but my body was fragile
again, and you knew what to do. I feel now that this time was almost like my rebirth for
you, and you enjoyed having me need you to help me sit up, lay down, shower, and other
bathroom things that need not be mentioned. I believe that for you, this was as if I were a
child again, only I could tell you what needed to be done instead of crying like an infant
who can’t voice her complaints. When I began to get better again, and able to do things
for myself, you grew restless. You knew I was on the verge of reclaiming my
independence, and this frustration grew into hostility towards me. You knew that it would
be back to normal. You claimed that I must be having “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”
What the heck is so stressful about crashing a go-cart??? I was getting back to the person
I was before I crashed. Don’t you remember that on the very day of my accident we were
fighting in the car the entire way home? Yelling about how I am such a horrible person
and that I am a manipulator, and I tried to tell you that I hated you. Things got back to
normal when my back got better and I could fend for myself.
I am very thankful that you cared for my body when I couldn’t, I am thankful for every
time I asked for a backrub and you gave it to me, I am thankful for every time you
changed the dressings on my incision, and I am thankful for every time you let a friend up
in my room to see me- even when it was messy.
Now that a year and a half has passed since then, I have gotten back into my comfortable
mode. This mode includes all of the following daily actions:
*Go to school.
*Go to work.
*Go to sleep.
*Talk to friends.
*Be inspired at least once a day.
*Seek advice in life decisions.
*Write.
*Read.
*Watch something with Ally Walker in it.
*And try one new thing.
Don’t worry. That last one is NOT as scary as it seems.
I constantly need to learn. I always want to know all I can know about something.
Before it is too late to learn it. You know? This is why I take harder classes than logic
would suggest I should. This is why I spend more time at school than I do at home. (Ask
the janitors, they know.) This is the reason that I spend so much time on the Internet. I
seek knowledge so that I may learn it.
I will always be thankful for you as my mother, but you have to realize that I am Mandi.
Not Amanda. Do you understand? I feel like I understand you, and if you disagree,
please tell me. But no more yelling. I am not like that. There are a lot of things that I
want my children to know and learn that I learned from you, but one thing that I NEVER
want to do around them is yell. This has got to be one of the stupidest forms of
communication I have ever had to experience, and I DO NOT want them to have to think
it is normal. Talking is what makes people understand. Writing is another form of
communication, and as you can see, I have employed this here. I want my children to
know that they can always come to me when they need to talk, when they need help, and
(most importantly) when they need to be held and reminded that I am their mother and
that I am always there for them.
Another thing that bothers me is your unwillingness to accept people for who they are as
people. You seem to only judge the people you see by either what they wear, the
company they keep, or the decisions they have made in the past. All three of these things
are not who the person is, only side effects. I have so many friends, acquaintances, and
extended families that the differences are not what is important. The important thing
about people is their spirit. You know that I like to dress like a wacko. But I think that
what I project to the outside world is so completely different from what I am really like on
the inside. On the outside I am wild, colorful, and quite the lover of freedom. However,
on the inside I long for the day when I will be married to a man who can spend all day in
bed on a Saturday reading the paper with me. A man who knows what I know, and who
isn’t afraid to be a big softy. I long to be married and have children. My body longs to
have children. But much to your dismay, I AM STILL A VIRGIN!!! So stop freaking
worrying, okay? I am still at that little girl stage where sex is gross and I think I will never
do it. But even at this stage I know what it is supposed to be. I know it is supposed to be
a beautiful union of souls that makes you forget you are two different people. I know it is
not something that you give up to just anyone. Believe it or not, I think I am one of the
few virgins who have vowed to themselves to only have one man for their entire life. I
don’t care that you can’t see how different Missy and I are. If you can’t understand the
fact that I am so completely different from both my sisters in the ways that I think and the
things that I hold sacred, then I truly apologize because I feel like you are missing out on
such wonderful experiences spent with your daughters. I don’t think you should base
everything in my life on the phrase “Guilty by association.” I know what I want from life,
I know which routes my life needs to take, and I know which paths are wrong. I know
how to direct my life and I really feel that you could be a large part of it if you could
accept my wishes. When I am stuck at the crossroads and each street in my life is looking
foggy and bleak, I know of many people whom I can turn to for advice. And don’t think
that the advice that I accept is taken on a whim. I ask many people first, and weigh out
the consequences that each decision might have.
I want you to know that I have chosen very good role models for myself. If there is one
thing that your tendencies of judgementalness have taught me, it is to look for only the
very best. I want you to not be jealous of the other people who I consider very close to
me. The people who I share a lot of my problems with are few but so spectacular in my
life that they are always there for me. I wish you could be there for me as much as they
are, but I forgive you for that. You had to stop growing when you were my age because
you had a child to care for. It wasn’t really your choice. I think the arrival of your first
child prevented you from finishing your quest of self-discovery. I hope that once I have
left the house and you and Dad are finally alone, you can start where you left off, and learn
what I feel I already have. You just have to get to know people again. Gain more friends
than you could ever know what to do with, and then embrace them.
I have done this. Take this Rosie quote, and REALLY think about it. “There are as many
ways to live as there are people in this world, and each one deserves a closer look.” You
can’t just see the rusty fenders and missing bumpers in the lives of the people you meet.
You have to open the door, and kick the tires first. Talk to the people in the car, you
know? Ask them instead of assuming. Most times you will realize that you were so
wrong about them. This is what I hope you can accomplish later in life.
Take Fran at the library for instance. For the longest time, I called her everything from the
B-word to the C-word. But when I really took the time to get to know her, and found a
common interest (there is always a common interest between you and someone you meet,
you just have to know where to look) we became such good friends. Now she is one of
the people I can go to when I need a push or a good “talkin’ to.” Just the other day she
was haranguing me into going home and doing my English homework. I love the people
who seemed to be all tough but end up really soft when I look deep into their souls. I
keep hoping to find that soft spot in you. But you hide it so well that I often feel like
giving up and leaving for good. Why don’t you just show yourself? Are you that
ashamed of the real you?
I might not be so ashamed of you if you weren’t so ashamed of you. I sometimes let
myself be ashamed of my body because that is something else I learned from you as well.
But I come to my senses and remind myself that it is just a body. One of the truly
inspiring people I have met in my life once told me “You are beautiful inside and out, but
when you get older and all of those other girls’ looks fade, you will still have your
personality, and you will still be beautiful because of it.” His name is Dan Bivens. He was
one of my wonderful classmates from Creative Writing. If you could embrace this idea
and really believe it down to your core, then you too would be beautiful, and everyone
would see this change and they would know too, that you are beautiful.
I love you, Mom. Even when I am screaming back in your face those other three words (I
hate you) I still love you. I appreciate all the things that you have ever done for me. I will
carry every experience you gave me through the rest of my life. They will always be a part
of me. You will always be a part of me. I will read to my children every night just like
you did with me, I will teach them to always choose carefully when making a choice, and I
will love them with all my heart and soul. Many things you have done will be passed on to
them through me, and many things that I have learned along the way or taught myself will
also become a part of them. But when they are older, I will realize that they have become
something separate from me, that we will always be connected, but that I can’t hold their
hands anymore- unless they want me to. I will allow them to make mistakes, but I will
warn them of the dangers first before allowing them on the battlefield. I believe you and
Dad gave me plenty of warning before I went into the big, real world. Sometimes I think
your war stories scared the hell out of me, and for a long time I was afraid to let myself
out of the fort. But there were many people whom I targeted as enemies because of you-
who turned out to be allies. Very powerful allies. They have helped me to step out into
the light of day. There are times when I absolutely feel free. Total freedom. Then I come
home. This is not a dangerous freedom, so please do not be frightened for me.
You can’t worry about every little thing that could happen to you if you turned this corner
or took the shortcut through that alley. Life is about taking that little chance here and
there. If everyone was afraid of each little thing that could happen to them in one day,
then the world would be filled with agoraphobics, and no one would leave the house- for
anything! If you don’t take that shortcut, you might miss something. If you don’t open
your eyes you will miss something. And if you don’t stare in public you are definitely
going to miss something. There are so many tiny gestures that people make every day that
are so beautiful to- I always wish that I could help you see them. I wish you could look
over and see this beauty. What I see as beautiful, you might see as an unwanted public
display of affection between two homeless people. What I see as art, you might see as
needless writing on a faded old picture. I want you to see the art. Try to see the art.
When you look at me, I think you see a lost cause or a waste of 17 years of your parental
guidance. Why can’t you be maternal without being crazy? Why can’t you hug me
without hating me? You don’t have to force me to be close to you. You just need to be
you. I can then love you for you. So this letter was to help you get better aquainted with
me as a person, as a woman, and as your daughter. I hope you feel closer to me, and I
really hope that you don’t think any of this is just a joke. I want to be closer to you, but I
can’t if you don’t understand and accept me. Thank you for reading this. Perhaps you
can reflect back upon this on the days that you think I have made a bad decision (hopefully
not too many days) or you begin to feel that you don’t know me. Just know I will always
love you as my mother. But please allow me to be myself. I loved being your ball of clay,
but now I move on my own and I need more space to walk and run and be free.
Thank you for carrying me.
-Love, Mandi
