Why I Never Wrote About My Mother
My mother’s biggest nightmare is finally coming true.
Quick reminder: I’m hosting two online workshops in april about telling the truth about your abusers. Workshop 1, Workshop 2. Happy to see y’all there!
My mother always told me not to write about her, and even though it’s not in my nature, I went along with her demand for my entire life. She was the only one who got to interfere with my writing—more than my editor, my publisher, or my partners. Because she was my mother, I told myself. Because she gave me life.
She worked relentlessly to ensure that the truth about her, about our relationship, would never see the light of day.
As if she already knew that others wouldn’t forgive her actions as easily as I did, that others wouldn’t have to downplay her manipulations to remain in her orbit, to keep pretending they had a mother.