💌 Dear Mom, I Love You, But I’m Not You
Dear Mom,
I learned so much from you.
How to fold sheets just right. How to choose silence over drama. How to serve before speaking. How to survive on grace, even when there wasn’t enough to go around.
You taught me the art of staying quiet when I wanted to scream. Of making things beautiful, even when I didn’t feel beautiful inside. Of keeping the peace— even when it cost me my voice.
I know you meant well. I know you were doing what your mother taught you. What the world taught you. What love looked like in the shape of sacrifice.
But, Mom… I can’t be you.
I can’t live my life saying “I’m fine” when I’m breaking. I can’t keep setting the table and pretending it’s not lonely. I can’t smile through things that hurt me just to be polite.
I love you. But I need to cry when I need to cry. Laugh too loud. Wear the wrong dress. Say the wrong thing. Ask for too much.
I love you. But I need to unlearn some of what you gave me.
I need to speak. Even if it shakes. Even if it’s messy. Even if it disappoints you.
Because I want to build a life that doesn’t require quiet suffering. I want to be soft and seen. I want to be good without being small.
And I hope you understand—
I’m not trying to leave you behind.
I’m trying to give us both something more.
Love always, Your daughter (who learned to love herself a little louder)
