I have not blogged much about it, but I've been corresponding with my mother since late October/first of November. I sent her a letter by mail and set up an email account specifically to talk to her. I was careful not to share too many personal details as it had been over 5 years since we had much of any contact.
After several back and forth exchanges, it was becoming clear that this was a mistake. Reaching out to my mother in hopes of repairing our relationship was not a smart move on my part. Maybe I thought she'd changed. Maybe I thought she'd apologize. Maybe I thought we were both older and wiser and could find a way to meet in the middle. The last email she sent was the week before Christmas. I responded the day after Christmas and then there was just silence. After a month went by, I sent a short follow-up message letting her know that the email account would be deactivated if she did not respond soon. Then, I waited...
My father's birthday was on the 2nd and part of me thought she'd email on that day, just to be spiteful. She did not. My birthday was on the 6th and my husband thought that would be the day. Still nothing. This week, on the 11th, our postmaster delivered a yellow envelope to our door requiring a signature. It only had "Happy Birthday" written in the return address box, but I immediately noticed it had been forwarded. Because I'd put our old address on the letter I sent her, I knew it was from my mother.
Hesitantly, I opened it. Inside was a birthday card, but it was blank. It was only a rouse to make me look at the letter inside. It was a long one. It attacked my character. It called me a liar throughout. It threatened me with claims that she knew how to get to me as well as threats of small claims court over items she gave me when I moved out over 13 years ago. I couldn't even cry. I was just angry. I'm still angry. And the things I have to say are not even close to something I would be willing to write publicly on this "Sparkle" blog. So - for the purpose of closing this post, I will say, I am finished with her. I am going to start a private blog to journal all of the painful, ugly, mean and hateful things I have to say to her. Then I am going to close the book and never look back. I cannot and will not subject myself to that kind of pain, even if she is the woman who gave birth to me.
