The Things I Wish I Could Say

"Grandma"

Thank you. I thank you for the worst years of my life. The eating disorder and the body dysmorphia. "Those aren't real things." "I've never body shamed you kids."

Oh yeah can't forget about that quick little gaslight. Or the constant reminder that my mother, the only person who has stuck beside me my whole life, is the shitty parent and that my dad, who left us by the way, was the only one that was here for us.

How's it feel to know that I didn't even bother to invite you to my graduation. After watching my sister so upset that you didn't come to hers, I didn't bother. Your son, my father, had to convince me to be the bigger person and send one anyway. Though, I'm not sure what happened to it. Must've gotten lost in the mail.

Oh and don't even bother saving a date for my wedding. Or my graduation from basic. I'll come pay you a personal visit in my blues and show you that you're wrong. It will be the last time you see me. The last thing you'll ever hear me say. I do not care that your older than I am, that you've "paved" the road for me.

I might regret not being there for you in your final days. You've had plenty of time now to make up the years of bashing, ditching, and bullying.

I was okay with forgiving you, I was going to forgive you. You fucked it all up. You said words that still ring in my head at night. Whenever I see a motorcycle on the road. Whenever I hear his name. Whenever I think of him and how proud he'd be of the person I'm becoming. I hear those words.

"He was a great guy. Don't worry. This is a perfect place for your mother to be. She loves being in the center of drama."

That was the exact wording. That was how you decided to console me whilst I bawled my eyes out over the passing of my uncle. My fucking uncle died, and all you could fucking think to tell someone who will never see them again that this is a perfect place for my mom to be???

You fucking bitch. I do not care about respect anymore. I slaved away for two weeks. Two fucking weeks. You only gave me a hundred dollars. I was sicker than a dog and you just shoved me into the room to work on something you didn't wanna do.

I don't want kids, I hate the state the world is going to. I couldn't imagine bringing a new person into this fucked up world. I don't care what you think about me. I'm going to do great things in the marines. I'm going to be a wonderful wife. I'm not going to hurt my family like you've poisoned ours.

I'm following my dreams. This is a slight detour to get there. Im setting myself up for the rest of my life. I don't want to starve as an artist. I don't want to have to worry about a roof over my head. I've solved my problems there. I can pursue my dreams whilst I'm serving. What are you doing? Running a shitty antique store? Buying way too much stock?

I hope this one runs into the ground like the last one. You're a terrible human, a terrible mother, a terrible mother in law, and to top it all off, the worst grandmother.

I've had three grandma models in my life. I was lucky enough to get a good one. One that showed me faith and love. Unconditional love may I add. I miss her every day. I would give both my blood grandmas to have her back.

I would give anything to pick up a phone call from her and just hear her voice again. But you? I'll decline the call. I've heard your voice too many times. "That shirts way too small. Here try this one." *puts the medium back for an extra large*

"You're not allowed to leave this table until everything on that plate is gone. You can sit here all night for all I care."

"You don't need seconds, you're already looking chubby. Have some water."

"You're legs look too big, let's go do some work around the property."

"You want dessert? With that stomach?"

"Those pants are too tight on you. Why not go get a bigger size?"

You deny everything bad you've ever told me. I guess you "can't" remember it, so to you it never happened. To me, it was too real to me. I can't find pants that fit me properly. I'm not up to "fashion" standards. I have strong legs, thick thighs, wide hips and some junk in the trunk. It's not my fault that when I find something that fits good in the legs and hips they continue to fall off my ass because the waist is four sizes too big. You told me shirts were too tight, "too small."  Ask my fiancé my favorite hoodie size. Ask him why it's my favorite. Oh yeah that's right. You'll never be able to ask him. Why? You're never going to meet him.

I don't care about you anymore. I could get a call tomorrow that you've passed on and I'd be oh so "sad."

You've fucked yo my mental health so much that I've stopped caring. Dad left us. I couldn't care less. I lost an unhealthy amount of weight after my ex girlfriend called me chubby and cheated on me. I've developed an unhealthy relationship with food because I'm scared that if it's not all gone even if I'm full that you're gonna do something to hurt me again.

I don't recall you ever hitting me over food, but you have over spilled water.

4 or 5 years old playing with the dogs, I tripped on their water dish and you beat me for what felt like hours.

I don't hate you.

I despise you. Hates too strong of a word.

I despise you for everything you've ever done to me or my family.

But don't worry, when you're gone I won't despise you anymore. Rot in hell you bitchy old hag. Fuck you.