I had a best friend once. I had a diary, a caregiver, tear-wiper, chef, teacher, coach, cheerleader, drill sergeant, spy, maid, superhero, Santa Claus, hair-trimmer, comedian. I had my mommy. I had my right-hand, go-to, never-fail mom. You never gave up on me, never made me feel insignificant, and never belittled me, even when I was wrong. You never made me afraid to tell you anything, because even if I disappointed you, you were still there for me. I haven’t felt the closeness that I used to feel with you in such a long time that it’s becoming increasingly difficult for me to remember what it was like back then. But, maybe that’s what happens, as we grow older – as we become less dependent on our parents and forge more deeply our own paths.

I guess the real test of growing up is whether I can be happy with or without your approval. I need to make the decision to step out of bounds with the comfort of knowing that you had always been on my side, had always been my biggest fan, my best friend…my advocate for everything and anything I had set out to do. I was never afraid to try new things or explore new places. I would never shy away from adventurous opportunities or people, because I knew that if I had nothing else at the end of the day, I had you. I was never afraid of anything because I felt safety in knowing you were on my side, no matter what.

I don’t have that feeling of safety anymore.

I have an overwhelming sense of uneasiness that looms over me whenever I do something. I constantly feel as though I’m on the verge of doing something wrong in your eyes, whether I’m with my friends, my boyfriend, at school or simply choosing what my son is going to eat for dinner. I haven’t made you genuinely proud in a long time, and as a daughter, that’s a tremendously stressful weight to bear. I spend the majority of my days wondering what it is that I’ve done to further piss you off, instead of being able to enjoy the things that I hold dear in my life…one of them being time spent with you.

But you’ll never admit that. You will never agree with that. And you will tell me I’m wrong for saying that. You’ll tell me that I’m over-exaggerating, overreacting and that I have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about. What you seem to forget is that I’m simply telling you what I’m seeing through my lens. Take from that what you will, but instead of getting defensive about what I’m telling you, you may want to try being proactive about our relationship in the future.

I’ve had so many opportunities to screw up. So many opportunities to do things right. I’ve taken the leap on some of those opportunities in both instances. More and more as I age, I sense that the approval rating for my screw-ups is getting lower by the day. I can’t live my life according to your standards any more. I can’t predict day-to-day what your expectations are of me and to what degree you’ll hold me accountable for certain things that I do.

I have to release myself from the grip of innocence that has protected me for so many years; now it’s beginning to suffocate my conscience. I have to let go. I have to move forward and grow as a woman, a mother, and a person. I have to become less of you and more of me. I have to stop worrying what you will think or say or do if I do become more of me and less of you. I must turn my face toward the sun once again as I did when I was young, with confidence and steadfastness. I have to stop digging for bones and seeking lost souls in the shadows while I helplessly wait for you to emerge from the darkness. I can’t do it anymore.

My journey is mine alone. And although you may not understand it or even approve of it, I would hope that as my mother, you would stand by me, fight with me, and promote my happiness – in any form – so long as it’s not detrimental to my life or the lives of those around me. But I can’t remember the last time I had your unwavering support in a personal endeavor involving my own life. I may not do the things that you had always hoped I would do. I may not turn out to be the person you’ve always wanted me to be. And I sincerely apologize if I have let you down with any decision that I’ve made. I will never know with exact certainty when or why you lost faith in me.

All I can say is that I wish I had the mother I knew years ago – back when things were much simpler. Back when we could both handle it. I’ve started my own life and you’re trying to keep control of yours. We shouldn’t believe that what we had shared up until this point would last forever. It’s nice to dream, though, I guess. I can’t apologize for wanting the most out of my own life, whether you support me or not. And I won’t sit still until I’ve reached the pinnacle of where I want to be, whether you tell me to or not.

I have the utmost respect for you, I love you more than words will ever express, I hold you to the highest of any standard and above all others in this world. But mom, I can’t do this anymore.

Have Fun. Be Fun. Forever.
-Kourtni