Rip Out Your Vocal Cords: An Open Letter to the Mother Who Won’t Grow Up

Art Courtesy of Brandon Smith
It is important to know that I am not going to keep going in circles. Not with you. Not with anyone.

I am a sponge. I realize I may be the smartest person you know. I see that my advice is sought out by you. Everyone needs guidance, myself included. Being the sponge stinks. I take everything in, expand and fill up. The problem is when I need the support I am left to dry out, evaporate into the atmosphere with no support when it matters the most. This constant abuse of my trust is overwhelming.

You are not attentive. You lie. You haven’t kept one promise you have made. Taking me for granted is more than devastating to me. When I seek out advice from others I listen, discuss, and think for myself on it. After asking for advice, the first thing I do is show my appreciation by either using the advice or explaining why I don’t think that would work.

I don’t waste good advice. I use it. You don’t own your actions. You treat people in ways I would never contemplate. When you apologize, you need to know that won’t always fix it. You are not present in your own life. When you tell me about the problems you have nonstop, I am shocked. It is like a never ending story with the same events repeating.

I have made my fair share of mistakes. The difference is when I make mistakes, generally I don’t repeat them. Every relationship in your life is toxic. Nothing goes right. The incessant whining is killing me. How is it possible that your problems in life are never your fault? You get screwed over so many times. How is possible for you to learn nothing from your past?

“Death Trap”
Artwork Courtesy of Brandon Smith
I believed you. I held your hand. I parented for you time after time. When you ask me for advice and then go against it only to later find out that, had you applied the advice given, you may have avoided the fall, I have nothing for you. You have taken so much from me. I let you. Now I am in a state of emergency while you somehow find time to enjoy your life, call me with your problems, not participate in the events of your life–all while still playing the victim. You can’t be that stupid, can you? You can read. You can speak. I assume you can think. Are you thinking of only yourself? That appears to be the case.

I have to let you go. You are a wound that is infected. Without you in my life and my children’s lives, I know that things will get better. If I let you stay, let myself absorb anymore of your stench, bacteria will form and, like any living organism, I will be overcome by you and your problems. Continuing on like this will only support your cycle of destruction. I have to take myself away.

Artwork Courtesy of Brandon Smith
I can’t wipe away your mess. I cannot contain you. I should not have to.

When I talk to you, the prevailing thought is always what is she thinking? Oh my fuck, is this person so stupid that basic common sense is gone? I realize you have mental health issues. That is not what I am talking about. I have to let go of your hand. Let you mop up your own mess or slip and fall. It is no longer possible for me to hear you. It is the same story with different players. Your story is tragic. I once wondered if Shakespeare was writing about himself or others he knew. Was life really so tragic? If he knew anyone like you, well, then it’s clear. The drama is better than fiction.

So many times, so many stories. All with you at the center. Personal choices have consequences. The consequence of the loss of the relationship I tried to foster won’t be apparent to you. I know this because you swap out main characters regularly. I could write a book about you killing off characters each season. The story would be depressing, sad…unbelievable really. There are only so many ways a story can end.

You are typecast because of who you are? That isn’t typecasting. You are that person. The one that everyone needs to avoid.

Artwork Courtesy of Brandon Smith  Facebook Album
It doesn’t have  to be like that. You could take your life in your hands, change course and move forward. You only have one setting: down. I can’t be a buffer. I can’t support you. I have two children to raise. You have your own to raise.

Start with yourself; focus on what you claim is important. Put the effort into your family that you do to the drama in your life. The drinking in your life, the drugs in your life and the lovers in your life. Half that energy would solve most of your problems.

Enough is enough. Stop being the reason why men think women are deceitful. You have tried to manipulate so many people. I can’t be one of them. You make good women and single moms look bad. You are the bad apple. If you say “I just can’t!” one more time, I may have to rip out your vocal cords.

A final thought, You are a #MotherDick.

***I hope it’s clear I am not judging. I am moving myself to a safety zone for my family. Illuminating the frustrations while hoping someone relates. The intent of this open letter is simple: if I were the mother who needed to grow up, I hope someone would be brave enough to write this letter to me. If it is read by someone who is unaware of their behavior and the negative way it impacts those around them, I hope this starts the cycle of change. I would love to write a rave telling everyone that change happened. What a comeback story that would be! Take control! Improve your lives!***

“Take it!”
Artwork Courtesy of Brandon Smith
— artwork courtesy of Brandon Smith