Dear helicopter mom, Sometimes you seem confused as to why, when you say “I love you” I don’t usually say I love you back. Let me give you some insight.
In the beginning of seventh grade, I was trying to experiment with my sexuality. I didn’t know what I was doing but I was enjoying it.
One day you took my phone away and read every single text message describing my curiosity and adventures with girls. It has been over three years and you have not said a word about what you saw.
A little while later, I started self harming. You found out from my then-best friend and upon this knowledge, it took you no more than 10 minutes after hanging up the phone with her to ...
...call me downstairs and sit me in the kitchen. Do you remember how that went? You said “So I hear you’ve been… cutting yourself.” with a disappointed frown.
You gave me no way out. Do you remember what you said later? You demanded I go and get whatever sharp thing I’d been using and give it to you. You said it like a prison sentence.
Can you guess who got creative? A little while after that, I was still self harming (but with a different tool, of course) and I progressively got really suicidal.
I remembered how it had gone with self harm so I knew I couldn’t tell you how I felt. I had just gotten my first real girlfriend but I wasn’t ready to come out and I wasn’t really ready ...
... to love myself. When I tried to kill myself, it took you no more than a couple of hours to take the ipad mini you’d given me for my birthday less than two months ago and ...
... comb through every social media outlet I had.
When you found out I had a girlfriend, you sat me down like you were going to ask about self harm again and asked why I didn’t tell my lesbian helicopter mother I had a girlfriend.
You treated me like I was crazy. I never saw the ipad mini again. It took me months to earn the privilege of having a cell phone again.
You had me stay in the inpatient psychiatric unit for just over a week so you could suicide-proof the house. Do you remember what you did?
When I got home from the hospital, there wasn’t a string light in sight. You claimed I could have hung myself with them. Any razors in the house were locked away tight and you had bought ...
... an electric razor so that I could still shave my legs. My older sister was also forced to use the electric razor, which we all hated.
Aside from my room being completely rearranged from after you searched every inch of it, all of my belts were missing. Apparently those were also considered dangerous.
Every pill in the house, from allergy medication to pet medication, was locked up and out of sight. I was not allowed on the computer downstairs for more than 15 minutes at a time ...
... (you brought me the timer when I forgot) and those 15 minutes were only for schoolwork. Sound familiar?
When I told you I wanted to get a lip piercing, you laughed and told me that lip piercings were trashy and you would never give permission for me to get one.
Shortly after, I pierced my bottom lip with an earring late at night and managed to hide it for almost a full day, until I decided to tell you about it.
ou nearly screamed and told me to take it out right then and there. I refused. You got angrier. Do you remember what you said to me?
You said, and I quote, “You’re going to be a barista at starbucks until you’re 40.” I went to my room and cried and vowed to never speak to you again.
A week later the piercing fell out and when I came home you breathed a sigh of relief as if you’d won the war. I held your venomous words tightly inside me for years, and I might not ever let go.
When I encountered homophobia at school one time, I told you about it because I wanted to complain. You told me I needed to call up the school administrators and report the incident.
I told you it wasn’t that big a deal, it was just annoying, and you insisted. I shrugged it off because I was kind of sick of being bullied that day.
Dear helicopter mom, checking my grades and attendance online every day did not make me want to do well in school. It only reminded me that ...
... I needed to have a lie ready to go for every absence and puppy-dog eyes perfected for every missing assignment.
Dear helicopter mom, taking my phone away when I started coming home late was less of a punishment and more of an easy excuse as to why I didn’t tell you where I was.
Dear helicopter mom, saying you read my diary out of love is not a valid excuse for invading my privacy.
Dear helicopter mom, punishing me for what you read in my texts or journals without my consent or knowledge does not motivate me to be honest with you. It motivates me to learn codes and hide ...
... my journals better. Dear helicopter mom, the only thing I learned from you is that family does not mean friends and friends are more often family.
Oh, and of course I learned how to hide not only all of my stuff but also all of my feelings. Thanks for that, by the way.
Dear helicopter mom, I hope you understand better now why
I seem to be physically incapable of being honest with you and I hope you understand better now why sometimes, I find it difficult to find love for you. .end.