I got the inspiration to write this through hearing a song called cleaning out my closet by Eminem. I usually don’t go for rap when I’m listening to music but this particular song means something to me and inspired me to write. This song has played over and over during my childhood. It is one of my mom’s favorite songs, I remember her literally cleaning out her closet, listening to “cleaning out my closet” and crying. One day I asked her why she always cried when she listened to it and she explained that she related to what Eminem was expressing to his mom. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry for all the shit he put her through but he also wanted to tell her how angry he was with her. She wasn't much of a mom to him. Ironically, what I am about to write about is similar to what my mom felt. (Fun fact: my mom used this song to write her graduation speech.)

I never meant to hurt you!
I never meant to make you cry; but tonight
I'm cleaning out my closet". When I was 11 I thought you were amazing. You were my hero, my inspiration, my mother. You would work all the time so you were hardly around, always me and Isaiah alone, messing around. But when you came home there was so much love, I missed you the entire day and I was so happy to have you home. I remember going out, getting pizza, renting movies, spending time with each other. It was nice. Age 13 the nightmares came, I didn't know what they were about and I didn't know how to tell you what was going on in my mind. I noticed you started dating, it made me so uncomfortable. I didn't like having a grown man in the house being responsible for all our things. I wasn't even used to having a father. I made it impossible for you to keep relationships. I'm sorry Mama, I never meant to hurt you. I was scared, scared they were going to take you away from me, scared they'd hurt me. Age 14 you started acting funny, drinking and crying became your normal. Alone, depressed, working all the time you took it out on Isaiah. Mama, he was trying his best to be the "man of the house", all the while you were just putting him down. You hurt him more with your words than with your actions, yelling and screaming became you new passion. You were so angry and sad, all because of two kids you couldn't handle. Scared, confused, with new traumatizing memories, alone with no one to go to I took to a blade. I it used to forget all the things I would soon regret. Age 15 you still hadn't noticed how much pain I was in but that was your own choice. You refused to see what was really going on because putting yourself in a negative light would be "so wrong." By now, you told me who the monster in my dreams was. Angry and wanting someone to blame, I took it all out on you. "You're nothing to me", "A low-life", "I hate you". I know those words still ring fresh in your ears and it hurts you more than anything. My pain got worse, the blade didn't work anymore. I saw you popping your prescription pills, so I figured what bad could it do if I took a little more than you. 1 pill, 3, 5, maybe 10, I didn't care I just wanted it to end. After pushing and begging for you to get me some help, you did. But that doesn't mean you deserve mother of the year award. For 2 straight years you blamed me for everything, your burden, your pain. You didn't know that I already thought that of myself. My words may sting but so do your fists. You now pretend that you didn't say or do such awful things, remember when I was down on the floor and instead of helping me up, you spit in my face and told me "get the fuck out". You did all these bad things that I won't forget but I appreciate the sacrifices you made to have my needs kept. Until you change and admit what you've, don't you ever fucking dare pretend that you were the one, to stop me from slicing into my skin each night, to help me realize the good in me and made me see the light. The light that will help me thrive each day to become what I want. I am not crazy, my emotions aren't something you can't handle. It's you. You just can't stand them. It's not my fault for what happened to you, remember you weren't the only one he was doing it to. Despite all these problems, my anger and pain, I love you for you, the one who gave me my name. Maybe one day we'll see past the wrong doings and hurt but in the meantime I just had to share that,

"I'm sorry Mama, I never meant to hurt you, I never meant to make you cry but tonight I'm cleaning out my closet". 

 

*Originally posted on dysfunctionalwithasideofanxiety.wordpress.com*

 

Published by Iridian Garcia