…engage just a little more in the sessions.
Not forgive.
Not forget.
Just… talk.
At first, I didn’t want to.
Every time I sat across from her, it felt fake.
Like she was trying to act normal while everything in my life had changed.
She would say things like,
“I miss you,”
or
“We can fix this.”
And all I could think was—
You broke it.
For months, I barely spoke.
Just sat there.
Answered questions with one word.
Or not at all.
My mom kept saying I was “holding onto anger.”
That I was “making it harder than it needs to be.”
But the therapist said something different.
“You don’t have to feel anything you’re not ready to feel,” she told me.
“And you don’t owe anyone a relationship just because they’re your parent.”
That was the first time I felt… understood.
A few weeks later, during one session, my mom said it again.
“If you would just stop acting like I did something so terrible—”
And something in me finally snapped.
“I’m not acting,” I said.
My voice wasn’t loud.
But it was steady.
“You cheated on Dad,” I continued.
“You left. You moved in with him. And then you expected everything to stay the same.”
She went quiet.
“You didn’t just hurt him,” I said.
“You hurt me too.”
For once…
She didn’t interrupt.
“I’m here because I have to be,” I added.
“Not because I’m ready. And not because I trust you.”
The room was completely silent.
Then the therapist gently asked her,
“Can you hear what your daughter is saying?”
My mom’s eyes filled with tears.
But this time…
She didn’t argue.
“I hear her,” she said quietly.
That was the first real moment we had.
Not fixed.
Not healed.
But… honest.
Things didn’t magically change after that.
I still only see her once a week.
Still don’t go to her house.
Still feel angry sometimes.
But something is different now.
She stopped blaming me.
Stopped saying I’m the reason my brother doesn’t want to go.
Stopped pretending nothing happened.
And me?
I stopped feeling like I had to pretend too.
I don’t know if we’ll ever be close again.
I don’t know if I’ll ever trust her the same way.
But I do know this:
I’m allowed to feel what I feel.
I’m allowed to take my time.
And I’m allowed to decide what kind of relationship I want—
or don’t want.
Because just because someone is your parent…
doesn’t mean they get to ignore the damage they caused.
And healing?
It doesn’t happen on someone else’s timeline.
It happens when you’re finally ready.
And for the first time…
I feel like I’m moving forward—
on mine.
