Letter to My Mother

Dear Mom,

It's funny because for the past two to three days I've been thinking, and agreeing to myself, on how to start this, but as soon as I started typing, I forgot everything.

Let me start off by saying I love you. I have always loved you, even when you thought I didn't- even when I thought I didn't. I will always love you, and it took going away to college for me to realize that. I'm eternally grateful for what you've done for me, and I'll forever be indebted to you as you have given me the greatest gift of all - the gift of life. No one but you, Mom.

For all the tears I've made you shed, I'm forever punished because I have to live with that. I hope those tears become a river for you in Paradise someday that will pail in comparison to your beauty for the rest of existence and beyond.

You, and Dad (but this is about you so we'll just keep it at that), have given me literally everything. My life has been handed to me on a silver platter. I am spoiled, and I don't deserve it. I know, trust me I know, that you both grew up with so very little, almost nothing, and you've succeeded. You're an embodiment of the American Dream. You have risen up and grabbed affluence by its horns. You're intelligent beyond anything I've known to make it in a city as cold and unwanting as the city I've grown up in and grown to love. I can't express how much you've accomplished, I don't think you understand how much you've achieved in your life thus far - it is very difficult for one to understand exactly what feats they've accomplished in life relative to someone who is on the outside watching them, especially when that one (you) is humbled. You've taught me how to get what I want if I really want it, and yet still be humble.

You've taught me the difference between being humble and modest. You've taught me that I should never fight over food. You've taught me to never be ashamed of my body, my voice, and my intellect. You taught me to be a strong woman, a fighter in a world full of men and pigs, because you are one, and you've crushed everyone in your path to achieve what you have. You've taught me that being humble is bigger than being modest.

Let me remind you that I love you. And that I used to be so very ungrateful. I'm a terrible person when it comes to how I've treated you and what I've put you through. I know this. I know I didn't turn out to be what you wanted...exactly. I know that you told my brother that you think I'm a druggie and alcoholic. I know that you lose faith in me every day. I want you to know that I'm fighting back tears right now, as I do every day when I recollect my brother telling me that. Every day.

I realized something this week, Mom.

I've mentioned my depression, I guess a few years way too late, recently and I finally am able to explain it perfectly. Through writing, too. You've always complimented my writing.

I'm depressed because of you. Not exactly you, but your actions over the years have driven me into a place that I once thought was comfort, but it wasn't. It wasn't me. And let me just say that you're definitely not the only attribute to my depression, so please don't put this all on yourself. Please Mom, just hear me out.

I've always done my school work, and the extra work you made us do. Let me just say that I'm eternally grateful for that because I will never regret an education and I will never be the person I am today without you pushing me. I needed that to be the person I am today. I love intellect because of you. I also love writing. I remember I used to keep journals and diaries. One day, I was probably in the 1st grade, you found my diary and read it. But the worst part is that you told me you read it. I was a very introverted girl up until 8th grade. You telling me details about what I wrote crushed me. That is what I pin as the defining moment of my depression. I was stifled. I felt like I couldn't write anymore because you'd just find a way to find and read it again. I remember exactly what I wrote, the part you read, but I can't write it here because if I got it down just one more time I think I'd do something crazy. It still hurts me that bad- I really wish I didn't remember it as well as I do. Or at all. I was humiliated. I felt like I didn't have a safe place anymore, not inside of a book, so I resorted to keeping things inside.

In 6th grade I got into web design and coding. I taught myself how to use Adobe suites and Paint Shop Pro. I taught myself HTML and CSS coding. I was running three FreeWebs websites at the age of 11. It's what I did every day after school, you know that. I'd just finish my homework really quickly, because it came so easy to me, and head over to the Dell desktop sitting in my room to spend hours on the internet. One day, you said you found my website. It had the word "WHOREGON" in the background, which was part of the image and I honestly, honestly to God I'll swear on my life right now, didn't even notice that repeated background image until you brought it up. Once again, you took away my safe place. I felt like I couldn't post anything anymore. I stopped keeping up with my sites. I slowly stopped making graphics because they didn't matter anymore. My knowledge of coding is not where it used to be, and it probably never will be.

In high school, I became more social because of sports. This opened my eyes to a new world - making friends came so naturally to me. I realized half-way through field hockey season that this was the person I wanted to be - this is who I actually am. Instead of writing, I had people to share stories with and hear them from. We were writing in verbatim, together. I loved honing my interpersonal skills, as they helped me to better hone my intrapersonal ones. I've realized it is hard to develop yourself as a person if you cannot socialize, because you learn who you are from who you surround yourself with. Humans are social creatures. It's our pure, programmed, evolutionary nature.

Long story short, and it's only because you know most of these details, I've fallen into the wrong crowds and I've needed you to pick me up and put me back in my place. You're my mother, I couldn't expect anything less. I am so grateful even though back then I appeared not to be. By senior year, I'd seen the errors of my ways and I had matured a lot from where I was four years prior. We battled with the classic psychological battle between daughter and mother for quite some time during puberty for me. What would I have done without a mother figure like you? So caring and understanding. You seemed to have faith in me, at least at the beginning. I was okay with that. I'd take that with me to college.

College. I've grown way too fast here. I've experienced way too much. I love it and I hate it at the same time. I'm struggling for once in my life. Things aren't easy anymore- it's extremely hard for me to deal with that, but after Morgan left my life, things started turning around. I feel like you've very well prepared me to purge the bad from my life. That being said, I want you to stop judging me based off of my friends. If you've learned anything from me, it's that I can drop the negativities from my life by now- because I learned that from you. Friends come and go, that's all they are. Of course, there lies exceptions in that, and you've come to see that (Jasmine and Isabelle and the boys), but it took you almost 10 years. 10 years. College doesn't have time for that.

Tanking grades took a toll on my depression. Falling out of what I thought was love took a toll on my depression (side note - THANK YOU SO MUCH for dealing with me when I was with Luke. Literally Mom if I owe you money and time for anything...). Boston's weather took a toll on my depression. Dorm rules and college regulations took a toll on it too. I need freedom. My wings are clipped here.

That gets me to my other point. When you (you as in an improper pronoun, so not just you specifically) tell me not to do something, it is in my innate nature to do it. It is truly and purely who I am as a person. I'm rebellious. I wish I could give you a better answer than the fact that the chemicals in my brain align and react like that. The synapses like that, they click to that. I will never apologize for who I am. You taught me to love myself. I won't apologize for something other people, including you, may or may not see as a flaw. One day my nature will lead me to success. I assure you this.

I know you think that children are a reflection of their parents. Let me tell you how wrong you, and whoever else, are when you think this way. Sociologically speaking, children and their parents grow up in completely separate generations. Therefore, it is impossible for children to be reflections, which are exact 'mirror' copies, of their parents. Generations are different. Technology, as the greatest example, has completely set us apart..."the iGeneration"..."the Millenials" (which I am not a part of because I am a 90s baby, too proud). We are arguably the furthest separated generation from our parents, you, who have grown up with traditional values. This is likely compared to the children and adolescents of the 1920s in America who were completely opposite of their Victorian-mannered parents. You've raised me well, do not get that wrong. Do not confuse that with what I am explaining. I am in no way a reflection of you. We are different people, this is clear to both of us and to everyone else. Do not assume that my actions reflect how you raised me. Maybe at a point they did, as children are impressionable and only learn what they are taught. But I am no child. I've grown up and experienced things on my own in addition to what you've shown me. I am your daughter. I am the pupil of your teachings. I am not your reflection.

This is why you get hurt. You think that you've done wrong because I do something that isn't up to your standards. I pray to God you never know what I truly do. I pray to God you never know what my brother truly does. It will upset you to the furthest end because you believe that we are your reflections. You need to give me space to grow, to spread my wings by myself. I will make mistakes, as I always have. I will get hurt, they will hurt me in different ways. I will learn from them, though. I can only promise you that. That I will learn from them. It's in your maternal instincts to want to protect us; to think the worst-case scenario thoughts. I will never doubt or put that down. One day, I hope to have as great instincts as you when it comes to that. Who am I to wish my own mother cared less? That's absolutely senseless. I love that you care as much as you do, it makes me feel loved. I've never felt unloved, let me tell you that. That's the most important job as a parent, and you've well succeeded, Mom. I'm not asking you to care less, that's dumb of me. I'm asking you to understand what I mean when I ask for room to grow. I'm not an idiot. I'm depressed. I'm not mentally challenged. I'm not an addict. I'm not an alcoholic. I'm depressed. I know what I do wrong. I try my hardest to fix them, I give it my all as I do with everything. It's not easy anymore, but I'm pushing and fighting like I learned from you. It's slowly working, I see it day by day more recently now. It's a slow process.

It's slow because I've realized I've been the most depressed during my childhood, my impressionable developmental years. It's most easily explained, although this isn't 100% accurate, that I don't understand quite what it's like to not be depressed since it started around when I remember the most memories (see 1st grade). Now that I'm becoming social, writing again, talking more, experiencing little things in life that I love, now that my lobes are almost fully developed, my depression is beginning to subside. So slowly. But it is. And this is the hardest thing I've dealt with because it's weird not living as depressed as I was. It's weird, it's good, but weird. I need to get used to it. Unfortunately (or fortunately I guess depending on how you look at things), it's happening now at this stage in my life where everything is moving as fast as I'm typing and there's so much going on that there is so little time for me to focus on me, as I had in the past.

In high school, I watched three of my best friends battle with depression, openly. They were open about it and by the end of senior year they finished medications and therapy and are doing so well now. They're not perfect, as I never expect them to be, but from where they were, they've progressed. I've been there for them and helped them as much as I could along the way, putting myself on the back burner, never taking my own advice. You taught me to be humble and help those who I love. As a doctor, you put people first. That is one of your most redeeming qualities. That is why your job doesn't want to risk losing you as a physician. That is why you're one of the best Pediatricians on the Board.

After retrospectively looking back on what my friends went through, I've determined that my depression is how I'm explaining it. I'm not an idiot, Mom. I'm depressed, but I'm an intellectual. Albert Einstein was depressed. One of my most favorite photographs from history is him sitting next to his therapist during one of their meetings. I understand my depression and I use that to help "fix" it. Tame it is a better term. My depression defined me for quite some time. Time to change that.

I've always wanted to be a fashion designer. Everyone who truly knows me as a person will say that they knew that already. If you didn't then you really don't know me. That's my dream job. If I could do anything in the world. I realized I like science because I like art. I like the methodical approaches to art, how you can quickly learn techniques not in great detail, but the constant practice makes you a master. It's not something you're born with, you need to develop it with lots of time commitment. That's how I feel about science, that's why I like it. You can memorize and spit back things, but that makes you a machine. A students are machines. B students are trying to be. C students are keeping up to have those grades, but they're the ones living and learning and experiencing. Machines are replaceable and need constant fixing. I can explain this more to you later. Anyways, I found where I fell and now fall on this spectrum. It makes me realize I've changed as a person throughout the years. Science is an art. I would love to be a doctor, a surgeon rather. Lead a team with my amazing interpersonal, organizational, crafty skills. Save lives like you do on a daily basis. I'd love this so much. But it's not what little Alex intended. It's what you intended for me. I've carved out this life path for you, and realized halfway through that it's either time to turn back or push through. I've never turned back before. I'm sticking it to the end because it's what you wanted and it's what I convinced myself I wanted for you. That was my mistake, not yours. My lobes weren't developed yet. It can't be your mistake. It's nature's, so inherently it's mine. Do I wish I could be a fashion designer still? Every waking moment. I talked to my friend Ryer about it, he's so optimistic. He told me at any point I can put everything down and go follow my dreams, that it's really never too late. It's my internal struggle dealing with hearing that, then thinking about how far I've already come, how I would break your heart and dreams for me, and how I would waste all your money and effort and hard work as a parent. Internally I need to cope with this and figure it out but I guess I have time to do this. In the mean time, I'm not quitting on what I've started. Even if I have to pull myself out of this mud as I've been doing the past two years, I will. I'll come out dirty and out of breath and tired, but it's gonna happen.

As I approach the second decade of my life whirling away, I can only pray that the others to come are happier. I can pray, but I am also trying to make this happen. No one else can do this for me at this point but myself.

I hope you don't cry tears of sadness when reading this. I needed to be stern with you on exactly where I am in life. I can best do this through writing. When I didn't answer your texts, it's not because I don't love you, or love you less. It's the complete opposite. It's because I realize how much I love you, and cannot bear to hurt you anymore. It's not me ignoring you, it's me saving us from a fight, as I should've done so many times before. So, as you've taught me, I take a step back and gather myself. Gather my words, thoughts, actions. I'm trying to regret less in life. I'm trying to keep your beautiful smile always on. Your smile is my strength. Without it I am nothing.

I love you so much. Thank you for everything. You'll never understand how deeply I mean those two phrases. No one will. Even I can't comprehend how much I feel that towards you. You are literally and figuratively my everything.

You are so beautiful and your reputation definitely proceeds you. You're grace and glamour, whether you admit it or flaunt it. You're strength and valor. You're the light in lives. So many lives touched and blessed by you. You're the embodiment of an angel, I've been watching you glow for 20 years, which can only mean that you've been glowing way before that too.

I sit here holding back tears at 3AM, the same way you do for me. You're my mother. I may not be your reflection, but I am your X chromosome. Sometimes, we'll parallel. And I wouldn't want it to be that way with anyone else.

Dear Monica St Louis

Heard you're not fat anymore.

See?

People change... ;)

Little Thoughts 1: Things I Grew Up On

The Simpsons

Lisa Frank

Kraft Mac n Cheese

Red & Blue Kool-Aid

Love

Don't Text Sober

I've come to realize I do a lot of stupid shit when I'm sober.

Like send unnecessarily friendly texts.

And sign up for random dinners.

How To Face Your Fears

Last night I had the worst nightmare I've ever had before.

Worse than anything.

Because.

It's real.

I had a dream that I was failing out of college. Then I woke up and remembered. My GPA.

I'm not failing. Thank God.

But I need to step it up.

I think this nightmare was a sign.

Thank God.

I woke up and opened up my computer after lying there, eyes open in absolute darkness, tossing and turning in the sheets. I opened up the Agora portal and went to my degree audit. I planned out what grades I needed to "succeed" in the next two years. I calculated. On my iPhone's calculator that you pull up from the bottom of the screen then it almost becomes the screen. Almost.

3.

That number will haunt me forever. It's a scar.

I didn't cry this time, though. It didn't hurt in the same way.

I'm beginning to face my fears.