Dear Mother.

Dear Mother

I watched you cry, I held you close, we lost everything and it was just us. Just me and you. Fighting the world. Sitting on the sofa watching runways with tea and a box of chocolate cornflakes.
I watched you wilt, from the strong flower you was which I admired to just a ghost of what you was before.
Your petals dropped and floated on our sea of tears, and as the water drenched our feet you lost yourself.
You became someone I didn't recognise, a vulnerable scared woman who was angry with the world.
You chose drink instead of food and soon I couldn't see you anymore.
Who were you, mum? Where did my mother go when I took you to bed, washed you, kissed you goodnight, told you it was going to be ok?
Mum, I was scared.
Flashbacks, driving to her house to write bitch on her car in the middle of the night.
You turning up in class crying.
I was scared.
I was 8. I was 8 and decided that I too wouldn't eat. It began here.
I wanted to go back to being innocent, to having a happy family, to having a mum and dad, so I wanted my body to be younger. Skinnier. Innocent.
You didn't see the children shout skeleton girl in the playground. "Don't let the monster play!".
Playing tag got replaced with playing around with numbers, how little can I eat today?
Then how long can I go without eating? A teaspoon of jam.Thats all your worth. Thats all you can have, stupid little girl. No one likes you.
This, this is where it started.
Whilst children were being innocent on a school trip, playing and laughing in childsh joy, I was crying to my teacher as I couldn't drink the hot chocolate they passed me. I was terrified and alone. I had no energy to play so I sat in the cabin, crying and alone.
Then the day a man, a stranger, stuck his hand up my 12year old cunt in a carpark one evening, I tried to tell you. I asked if such things are normal, and you laughed mum. You laughed.
So I purged to cleanse myself of sin. And thats when my bulimia began.
I want to say I am angry. I am so angry that you didn't see me crumble. That I am still fighting the illness 15 years later. That I can still hear screams.
I am angry. Its never stopped, and you don't even recognise it began with you.
My mum. The woman who is meant to love and nuture me.
I am angry. I am hurt. I am feeling tears splash on the keyboard.
But mum, I forgive you.
I forgive you and love you.
I wish I could show you this letter, one day I might, but for now. Just for now. Its here.

From your little girl,

Kate