Share This Post
Photo of Grandma Lorna, my adopted grandmother,
My kids, me and Mother’s Day 4good4ever Journal I wrote dedicated to Lorna
The young woman goes into personal counseling.
She asks her mom, “Will you go to counseling with me?”
“No, not if you chose the counselor.”
“Sure, you pick the counselor.”
“I’m not paying for it,” her mom replied.
“I will,” she said. No reply.
She’s just happy to have the break.
Poison Pen Letters arrive.
The first one is devastating and exhausting to read and painful to recover from. Lots of tears and regrets. Shaming. Blaming. Sadness.
The Poison Pen Letters continue.
Taking a month to recover and a new one arrives.
This is endless with no healthy result.
She asks a friend to read if there is anything she must know or throw it away. They are all thrown away.
Over the years the letters continue reaching out to friends, family even the young woman’s pastor is included. While losing control of her daughter the mother now aims to try to control how others see her, attempting to sabotage her positive relationships.
The letters always arrive in white legal size envelopes, never light pink or yellow with, ‘Have a nice day’ or ‘Thinking of you!’
Messages continued… “You won’t get your baby book because you don’t deserve it. You won’t get Grandmas’s antique lamp now that she’s gone. You’re not in the will.” Really is this the last punishment, because it’s not working.
Poison Pen Letters. Done.
