Dear Daughter,

Welp, here we are … your last day of high school.  This moment was hard to imagine eighteen years ago—you were a tough cookie from the get-go: born ten days late and after almost three hours of pushing, months of colic, an absolute refusal to eat baby food, you hated everyone but mom (maybe dad, too!) …. You were DIFFICULT.  In fact, you were so difficult that one time when Aunt Mary babysat you, she had to call us to come home because you would not stop crying.  I cried a lot, too, actually! 😉

And then you grew up.  And are self-motivated.  And responsible.  And intelligent.  And funny.  And an incredibly EASY child/adult to parent.  And I’m grateful for that because I did nothing to deserve it.  I got awfully lucky.

As I reflected on your last day of high school, I tried to think of how I could make it special. I feel massive mom guilt over the past two years—and ESPECIALLY the last three months—because school has been so consuming for me.  Hell, I feel massive mom guilt for getting divorced and giving you a childhood that was nothing like my own.  No stay-at-home mom for you.  No mom going on field trips.  No mom making homemade cookies (or even edible meals, really).  No mom in the PTA.  No mom hosting play dates or planning elaborate birthday parties.  You got stuck with a mom trying to keep her head above water, never knowing if she was making the right choices but hoping like hell that some way, somehow, you’d grow into a strong, well-adjusted, mostly happy adult.

I’m not sure how happy you always are (thank you, genetics, for anxiety & depression), but I know that you’re strong (well-adjusted is a stretch for any of us in this house!). We’ve been through some tough stuff, kid.  And while I hate that you’ve had a lot of responsibility and adult-type situations thrust upon you, I’ve always known that those hard moments are what would help form your character, shape your soul.

So, this letter is my way of apologizing for when I’ve screwed up and of letting you know how damn proud I am of the woman you’re becoming.  I’m sorry you grew up poor.  I’m sorry you grew up not going to church.  I’m sorry I haven’t been at every performance, every awards ceremony.  I’m sorry that I didn’t take more pictures of you or give you better birthdays.  I’m sorry that we didn’t go on vacation every year.  I’m sorry for way too much takeout/fast food.  I’m sorry that life in this house so often feels like a struggle.  I wanted easier for you than I had, growing up for so many years without a mom … but I feel like, in many ways, you’ve had it tougher than I did.  Yes, I’m alive.  That’s true (I think; some days it’s tough to tell).  But when my mom was around, she was perfect: she could cook, bake, sew, garden, and was always happy/positive/loving.  You have a stressed out, sometimes depressed mom who tries to balance work, school, and home—and isn’t entirely successful.

Thank you, kid, for hanging with me for all these years and being the amazing daughter that you are.  Thank you for accepting me with all my flaws and loving me and helping me and trudging through our sometimes (often) challenging life together.  I’m so excited to see you spread your wings at college and to figure out who you are outside of this house and this role that you’ve adopted inside of these walls.  You’re an incredible daughter; I can’t wait to see you define yourself as an independent woman.  You will be unstoppable.

I don’t think that I have to give you much advice because you’re a pretty smart chick, but I wouldn’t be the psych nurse that I am if I didn’t have a few words of (self-perceived!) wisdom:

• Be kind.   Always.  Always.  We never know the struggles of others and kindness isn’t something we do just sometimes.  Every human being out there deserves kindness just because.
• Be honest. You’ve seen first-hand what kind of damage lying can do.  Even when it’s hard, remember that the ugly truth is better than pretty lies.
• Set boundaries. Sometimes setting boundaries feels like being unkind but know that boundaries are essential for our safety. I don’t only mean physical safety—be protective of the ideals that are important to you and don’t compromise on those.
• Set goals. Little ones, big ones, achievable ones, some crazy-but-I’m-gonna-try-it-anyways goals.  These are what help us get out of bed in the morning.
• Work hard. Work smart, too, but work hard.  Work hard at your job and at school and also work hard at being a good, kind, loving person.  Trust me, that does take work, and it’s worth it.
• Don’t judge hearts. You can assess actions, for sure, but don’t judge hearts or souls. That’s above your pay grade.

And, lastly,

• Know that your mom is ALWAYS here, and she ALWAYS loves you. Even when she screws up, even when she loses her temper, even when she’s crabby, even when she’s too hard on you. She’s trying.  She messes up plenty, but she’s trying.

 

I am grateful that you are my daughter, and I love you, kid.