Family
Birth of a Phoenix
Dear Mom, I never got a chance to tell you something before you passed away. Even writing this now, it is hard to say. I wrote much more of this letter before I came back up to this part to add my confession. Mom, I am a lesbian. I suppose I could have told you when you were in a vegetative state all those years but I found that hard to do without being able to see your reaction. Before you were in a vegetative state, I did not yet know this confession about myself. I was eighteen years old when it finally clicked. It happened while I was reading a reading assignment in a college class during a summer program away from home. The reading described characteristics of a homosexual within it. My very first emotion was my brain flooding with extreme fear. I did not want to be this way. I was worried that I would get beat up or murdered. I wanted to quit the program and go home to hide from the world. I didn't realize I was exactly where I needed to be. The summer program was known for diversity and acceptance. There were others like me there. I gave it all the strength I could muster and stayed. I think talking to the director about this struggle helped. All students that were going to be entering college in the fall were given a scholarship at the completion of the summer program. I was given one with a title about a phoenix because of my struggle with all this and the phoenix has been an inspiration for me ever since. When I was twenty six years old I got my first tattoo and it was the words Phoenix Rising. I always hoped you would accept me but given the rocky start with the rest of the family, I feel scared to think about what your reaction might have been. Then other times I am betting you knew. They say mothers know these things.
By J.M. Powell4 years ago in Confessions
Better Left Unsaid
I hold the large shoebox full of letters for what feels like the hundredth time. Will this prove to be like all the other times? The box ends up returned undisturbed to the top shelf of the closet. Nineteen years after her death and it still feels like it will be too painful to open and read through the letters. But no, not this time. Not today. Something moves through me this time. This time there is an overpowering purpose behind holding the box. A pull bigger than I have felt before.
By Don Money4 years ago in Confessions
A Mother's Confession
I can say that I do have some stuff that I have kept from my mom that I didn't want her finding out about. Sometimes when I do come clean to tell her, she already knows. At lease most of my secrets. Now I do have some embarrassing secrets that I should come clean to my mom.
By Manda Marie4 years ago in Confessions
I’m not broken
You didn’t break me, Mom. You did what you could in world working against you. When I was born, the knowledge of Autism was so basic, so limited… you simply didn’t know. When I was a kid, they’d say things like “cold parenting causes autism” and find any way to blame you for things we couldn’t change. I can see why you were scared to get that diagnosis and worry what else people might say about us. You didn’t want them jumping to conclusions, not about me, not about you, not about us. You just wanted people to see me for me, not a label, not a diagnosis. You just wanted to help. You know now, in ways it hindered me, perhaps I didn’t get the help I needed early enough. But you also allowed me to be me, you didn’t push me into ABA, you never stopped me from rocking, sucking on my blanket or fixating on the strangest things. You supported me however you could. You let me find myself however I needed to even if it didn’t quite make sense to you.
By Josey Pickering4 years ago in Confessions
My confession
Mom. I never told you this before, but you have always been my hero. I mean you're a real live hero. Yeah, you may not have those superficial powers but you do have those powers that save lives. I am one of the lives you have saved. You have saved me from so many battles I've lost count. The stories I can tell, I will never have enough time to tell them all without taking a lifetime to.
By topgun finiest4 years ago in Confessions
Hey Mom
I always dreamed that one day I would wake up and your pain would be gone. I remember the beginning so clearly. It was always me and you. A real life Lorelai and Rory situation. We were always in the car going places together and singing at the top of our lungs. Shopping together and taking a break to share a root beer and cheesefries with extra ranch. Always laughing and joking.
By Kris Hernandez4 years ago in Confessions
A Gift For Mother's Day
Hey Mum, I never told you this, but…well, now I’ve started, and I don’t really know how to begin! I’ll start by saying I wasn’t really in any danger, in the past anyway, although it may sound like it as you read. So perhaps, make yourself a cuppa and find yourself a comfortable seat. Then do me a favour and read this like a story about someone else. Remember, I didn’t ever need to tell you this. I could have taken it to my grave. But, well, it’s been bothering me that you don’t know. I tell you everything! Usually. And I’m not sure, but I might need your help. Hopefully not though.
By Kirsten Ivatts4 years ago in Confessions
The Bell Tree
Hey Mum, I never told you this before, but… I did sleep with your twin sister’s daughter's husband, my cousin's husband. He was from Borneo and very handsome as you know. I took a bus across the Nullabor Plains with strangers when I was 18. It took 3.5 days. I saw Indigenous boys jumping into rusty tin rainwater tanks, precariously balancing on timber frames in the middle of nowhere on red earth.
By Brenda Ramsey4 years ago in Confessions
The Rapped Gavel
Dear Mom, It's over for me, for you, and for us. As you know, I have been holding on to this since I was five years old. Knowing all this time you never wanted me to make a fuss. Despite being raised to be kept under control, I recall moments when I was bold. I tried to understand your choices but my disappointment and the distance I kept were rooted in being self-righteous. Every time I thought I was going to discuss it with you, I would fold.
By MRH4 years ago in Confessions
Hello, It Wasn't Nice To Meet You.
Hello Angel, I have been thinking about this letter for a very long time, and of you for even longer. I suppose it's strange to be hearing from me. I know I must have left a lot of chaos in my wake and I'm sorry for that. I hope we can meet up this Mother's Day (kinda poetic don't you think?) and sort everything out. I've attached the following address for a nice coffee shop near here. My contact information is also below. Please, I hope you will give me a chance.
By Lucy Richardson4 years ago in Confessions
