To My Step Mother

Apparently my step mom is trying to start shit again. She told Dad that I was writing offensive material about her and Cassie on me “website” again. First off, which one? Myspace? Facebook? Blogger? She never specified, though its probably Myspace. I have no idea how she’s accessing it, I’ve checked over the privacy settings
So Terry, since you seem to take so much joy in reading my blogs, here is one specially for you, a personal blog dedicated in your honor, written by yours truly:

I don’t hate you any more.
I certainly don’t like you. But I no longer hate you.
Rather anti-climactic, I know. Maybe you’re relieved. Or perhaps a touch disappointed, hoping that I would go off on one of my rants on the abhorrent behavior you exposed me to as a child, or how much I hate you, so then you would have evidence to print out and wave in front of my father’s face, proof of how “disturbed” I am.
Sorry to disappoint. As you so often indicate, I am something of a disappointment. I’ve never been drunk, sticking to a few sips of beer when I do indulge. Remembering how much you loved alcohol, I can see how this would be a disappointment.
All bitchy quips aside, I’ve managed, after years of struggling, to get over you and your actions. This year was the year, and I cannot tell you how relieved it has made me.
I don’t hate you.
I do dislike you, but no longer hate you.
I honestly don’t envy you, Terry. You’ve led a pretty hard life at times. You were the oldest in a large family, with a father who wasn’t always around, you married young to a man who beat you, you’ve had problems with alcohol, and now, in your second marriage, you are facing difficulties. I don’t envy your hardships; I don’t have to. As good as my life is, there will be bumps along the way. Hardships which I hope to handle in a mature, graceful, and sober fashion.
Maybe it was because of your hardships that you said the things you did, committing verbal abuse with led to emotional distress and contributed to low self-esteem. Or maybe you did it because your were drunk, as you usually were when you said such things. Alcohol, as we all know, really isn’t much of an excuse; All it does it merely lower inhibitions, not change who you are, and even if it did, the choice to drink was one you made every Friday night. It all comes down to personal responsibility.
I don’t care why you did it. I don’t like to dwell in that particular part of my past, though now I can do so without breaking out into tears. I am getting better, and I am finding I no longer hate you.
I do pity you. Not in a pathetic, demeaning sort of way, but in an honest and compassionate way, with only the best intentions. Humans, when ill-treated, will exact the same behavior onto others when they have the power to do so. Psychological studies time and again have proved this. And I will willingly admit, after the way you treated me, there were times where I treated you in a dreadful manner. You apologized, and me, doubting your sincerity, seized the opportunity to bite back. I am sorry for that.
I think if humans are ever to evolve, we need to get past this behavior and progress towards forgiveness. To hang onto a grudge long enough poisons the soul, and thus the tormentor has won twice over. In the end, grudges are not worth the life we miss out on.
I’m trying to take the steps towards evolving. I forgive you. I forgave you, finally, months ago, I got over the whole thing, and moved on. For you to try to stir up shit by saying I am writing offensive things about you and Cassie, a sister I love, is horrid. At one time, I would have been angry about it. Now I merely saddened by your lack of evolution, by these accusations you create, tactics you use to split apart a family that’s already too far divided.
Life has been hard for you, any idiot with half a brain cell can see that. But I consider my life, for all its flaws, an immensely blessed life, and after years of struggle, I have reached a point where nothing you can do or say, will ever destroy that.
I don’t hate you.



I don’t like you either. Maybe one day I will. But I’m not going to hold my breath.
Instead, I am going to continue to enjoy and celebrate my life, because now I am living a life without fear. Without fear of saying something that will set you off, without fear of being reprimanded for my opinions, without fear of waking up at night to your screaming, without any fear of simply being myself. A life where I can finally be myself.
And I celebrate my life every day, with short plaid skirts and fishnets, with new piercings and (someday) colorful tattoos, with long sleepless night of studying, with good books, with loud rock concerts, with spiked hair that changes color, with a college education, with good friends and laughter, with warm cups of tea, with screaming punk and metal, with lazy Sunday mornings, with sex, with helping others, with dancing all night, and with love.

Life is beautiful Terry, and I refuse to miss out on it because of some nasty things you said while I was growing up. Life is to short to brood on you. Maybe you were right when you called me a punk. But this twisted little punk is unapologetically enjoying her life at full volume, and I’d rather go to my grave having lived well.