Oh my baby…
Cassie, you are
Smarter than I was at your age (probably even right now), but without (lacking) the discipline your mother should have taught you and couldn't.
You are
more beautiful than I ever was at your age (the teen years are the worst)… You imagine you are fat and ugly, but as time passes, you will look back and see just how beautiful you really are.
No one knows the real you? You're right. It is easier to lie-- that is my legacy to you, that is what you learned from the life I brought you into. That's all I've known, too-- I go through so many guys because I want so much to be loved, but I come to a point where I'm afraid the real me will rear its ugly head and they will hate the real me. I have hope, though, that this book will help us both.
You are not so much of a screw-up. Yeah, you didn't keep the house perfect. Neither did I, nor any of the kids. Yeah, you're not doing so great in school. But you're not stupid.
It's not your job to take care of me, and I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I'm sorry I haven't been able to care for all of you enough to allow you to just be you. I love you, honey. I am proud of you-- the depressed you, the temper-tantrum-throwing baby you, the lazy you, the exercising you, the you that feels so unlovable and unworthy and untrusting.
I love you for all the good and bad you are, and I hope you come through this being the strong, intuitive person that I know you are.
Cassie, you are
Smarter than I was at your age (probably even right now), but without (lacking) the discipline your mother should have taught you and couldn't.
You are
more beautiful than I ever was at your age (the teen years are the worst)… You imagine you are fat and ugly, but as time passes, you will look back and see just how beautiful you really are.
No one knows the real you? You're right. It is easier to lie-- that is my legacy to you, that is what you learned from the life I brought you into. That's all I've known, too-- I go through so many guys because I want so much to be loved, but I come to a point where I'm afraid the real me will rear its ugly head and they will hate the real me. I have hope, though, that this book will help us both.
You are not so much of a screw-up. Yeah, you didn't keep the house perfect. Neither did I, nor any of the kids. Yeah, you're not doing so great in school. But you're not stupid.
It's not your job to take care of me, and I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I'm sorry I haven't been able to care for all of you enough to allow you to just be you. I love you, honey. I am proud of you-- the depressed you, the temper-tantrum-throwing baby you, the lazy you, the exercising you, the you that feels so unlovable and unworthy and untrusting.
I love you for all the good and bad you are, and I hope you come through this being the strong, intuitive person that I know you are.
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