A Letter To My Mother
My problem with food never went away. The things you did in an attempt to help me did nothing but worsen my disorder, and now I'm stuck dealing with it alone. I only led you to believe I was better because I couldn't handle the fact that you knew. You took every single bit of control away from me, you forced me to eat things I would have never wanted, you made me feel so much guilt, shame, and disappointment. You hurt me so badly. In the little letter you wrote me, you said "I thought we were close... BUT I GUESS NOT." I can't believe you would say that to me. No, Mom, we're not close, and it's because of things like this. You have no understanding of anything, all you do is judge.
You didn't care that I was already hurting when you found out, all you cared about was making sure you "took care" of this issue quickly because you didn't want to deal with another problem.
You should have gotten me some professional help, not try to handle it on your own. What made you think you had the ability to treat eating disorders? Do you honestly believe that you helped me? Because you made me miserable, you made me worse. I am so angry with you, and I have a lot of trouble forgiving you for acting in such a way.
You should have never said the things you did to me. You hurt me. Do you remember how in the letter you wrote, you repeatedly stated how I "HURT YOU"? Well, what about me? How do you think you made me feel when you reacted to my problem in such a way.
I am so much more distant from you now because of this incident. I will never let myself believe you understand, or you care. You only care about what others are going to think of you if they found out about this. You can't stand the fact that I'm not good enough.
But I am an adult now, so you cannot force me to do anything. You can't take any control away from me. It's my health, and if I want to slowly kill myself by taking part in such behaviors, I am free to do so.
I'm not going to though. I care a little bit more about myself than that. I need to get some kind of help, and am probably going to have to do that on my own. I can't depend on you, that's for sure. I can't handle you. You and I will never be close, and I don't care. I don't need the guilt and shame you love to pile up onto me. I can't deal with it.
Sincerely, Your screwed-up daughter.
Join in and write your own page! It's easy to do. How? Simply click here to return to bulimic letter.