You've missed me. You don't know that I am an amazing mother. You don't know that I have done better with and by these two kids than I ever thought possible. You don't know how much they love me. You don't know the special, amazing, strong bond that we have.
You don't know that I'm funny. I'm a funny person. One of my biggest joys is making people laugh. The people in my live know that I'm funny. Being funny is important to me. You didn't know that. You wouldn't let me be funny. You always had to be center stage. I wasn't even allowed on stage at the same time as you.
You don't know that I'm free. I can go where I want when I want. I don't have to ask you, plan for a million years before hand, or wait for you to come home (late) so that I can go. And when I do arrive at my destination, I don't arrive late. I don't arrive with tear-stained cheeks. I don't arrive already looking at the clock for when I have to leave. I'm not anxious, I don't have bruises on my arms or face, I don't end the activity early. I relax, I engage, and I enjoy the company I'm with and the activity I'm doing.
You don't know that I'm a wonderful friend - you never allowed me to have any.
You don't know that I'm a wonderful daughter/granddaughter - you never allowed me to have contact with them.
You don't know that I like to do things by myself - you never let me leave the house.
You don't know who I really am - you suffocated the real me, and she's only now so many years later starting to find her way back out.
Are there things I miss about you or about us? Absolutely. At one time there were very, very good things. Things that lasted for a long time and things that I thought would see us through. But you weren't strong enough to keep away the bad things. You weren't strong enough to be the real you. You hurt me too many times in too many ways. So, I took our babies and I left. You won't see us again. You won't know what you're missing, but I will.
I don't know exactly when you leave my head entirely. Some small part of my hopes you don't ever. Hearing your voice once in a while telling me that I can't do something or that I've done it wrong makes me do it better than I'd set out to do it in the first place.
And that's what you're missing. You're missing what an amazing, dynamic, funny, pretty, awesome person I am. I rock, and you're going to miss that for the rest of your life.