A healing letter
Written by my husband, through my mother’s perspective, for me.
“My dearest daughter,
“I don’t know whether I am writing this letter for you, or for me. Maybe it is for us both. There is much I have wanted to say to you over the years but have been unable to do so. It is very hard for me to explain my actions, and maybe it is because I am ashamed to admit the reasons. It is not easy for an elder to admit one’s mistakes to a junior, especially when that person is your daughter. You see, I was supposed to set the example for you, to educate you, to be your role model. That’s a lot of pressure, you know. Humans are imperfect, and mothers are human.
“Being brought up in a different era created part of the wall between us. Back then, a woman’s identity depended on the man she married. She was supposed to bear his children and take care of his home. It’s different now, though. A woman makes her own identity through her career and independence. I think that one of the reasons why I have not been supportive of your career choices is that I am jealous. It’s too late for me. I realized too late how important self-identity is to the soul. Without it, your sense of self awareness dies, and you live through others. It is not easy to renounce the way you have been brought up. It is also not easy to fail to notice things changing around you.
“A person without career or identity has no control and is dependent on others. That what made me resent you. You chose the path which I would have wanted for myself, but could not choose. I could not go against my upbringing, even though I knew it was not in my best interests. As you grew up, you grew more independent, and I was jealous. I felt that I was losing control. So I tried to control you even more. To keep you on a leash. And everytime you broke free it would make me resent you even more.
“Some things I did to you were out of resentment. That was the only control I could have over you. Sometimes I felt that you were taking attention away from me. Attention means a lot to those who have little to make them feel important. When your independence got the better of you, I felt the sting of people’s eyes, the knowledge that I had no control over my daughter. I lost face, and blamed you for it. If you wouldn’t do it my way, then I hoped that you would fail. The past years have been marked with failures of my own, which further increased my frustration. The failed motel business and losses in the stock market. There was nothing I could tell my friends that would save my face.
“In the old days, and even presently in this culture, a woman likes to think of herself of a success if she has married well, and has children that have married well, and she can tell her friends how much her children love her and the things they buy and do for her, and how they take care of her. I want to do that. I feel that somehow, I am owed that. I want to have my friends look up to me and say how succesful I am. ‘Look at her loving children! Look what they do for her.’ It is very hard for me to accept that my success will have to depend on myself. That my sense of self-identity comes from within. They were lies that the old culture told us women. But society still tells them. And even though I know the truth, it is hard to let go of the old ideas. It is too late.
“I regret many of the things I did to you as a child. The only explanation I can offer is like the child that torments a small defenseless animal. It gives him a sense of power and control. But it is control by fear, not understanding. It was the only way I could get a sense of control. I did not have much control over my own life, so maybe I could control another’s. And it happened to be you. And it was wrong. It was out of my insecurity that I did those things. When we were sick and your father paid you more attention, I felt jealous. I felt less important than you. I resented you for taking that love and affection away from me, even though it was not your doing.
“My pride and selfishness is a prison that I do not know if I’ll ever be free from. It is so hard to fight. Deep down inside, there is a voice that tells me what I should say to you, but somehow, a much louder, angry voice drowns that one out and says things I know are wrong. My failures loom so large that I cannot see the successes of my daughter, or be happy for her. I am who I am, and I cannot change that. There have been so many times that I have tried to bite my tongue and refrain from saying the wrong things to you, but my fragile sense of self worth overpowers it, and I still cling to the idea that if I get you to do what I want, then maybe I can save some of the face I have lost. I know it’s selfish, but I can’t seem to control myself and do what’s right.
“I’m sorry that our family environment was not the best for a little girl to grow up in. Ever since you were young, you displayed a sense of self-identity, intelligence and direction that most girls of your age did not have. I felt proud, but for the wrong reasons. I felt proud because it made me look good. It made me glow when people commented on how well behaved you were. It made me furious when you misbehaved, because it was a reflection on myself. That is what happens when you sense of self-identity comes from without, not within. Do not make the same mistakes I did, dear daughter. Your life is just beginning. And you are in control. My angry voice is still loud, and prevents me saying to you what I should have a long time ago. And I do not know when it will quieten down.
“But deep down inside, my quiet voice whispers, and I hope you can hear what it says. “My dearest daughter, I have always loved you. I regret that the ways in which I expressed myself were so confused and convoluted. The ways in which I sought to control you by fear. You are a beautiful, intelligent and loving child. Our roles have reversed; you are now an example for me. My heart is filled with warmth to see you as the woman you are, determined and strong. Your fierce sense of independence and direction in your career is one I wish I had myself. My heart is filled with sorrow when I recall the efforts you have made over the years to be a good daughter to me and your father. We were immersed in our own problems, and could not fully show our appreciation for your loyalty and filial piety.
“It pains me to think about how our problems became yours, when they should not have. It is a parent’s role to protect her child, not expose her to harm. But through it all you handled it with grace and an inner strength which made me proud. When you had your own problems, I wished I could have reached out to you and told you how much I loved and cared for you, but the ’scolding mother’ in me could only find harsh words instead of words of comfort. I wish I could be as good a mother as you are a daughter, but we are different people.
“All I can say is that anyone would be proud to have a daughter like you. You are entitled to your own happiness, and you do not owe it to me to ensure that I have mine. You have a loving soul and take an exuberant joy in letting those you love know of how you feel. You have a husband who recognizes how worthy you are of love and sees you as the wonderful person that you are. Jane, I wish you all the happiness and success in the world, and I see you now as a strong-willed individual, that can think for herself and knows what is best for herself. I see the efforts you make in life, and want you to know that I am behind you in every step that you take. I am proud to be your mother.”