Letters to My Daughter

By Christine Hashimoto

In this remarkable true story, we are offered an intimate view into a personal and poignant mental health journey. Entering therapy in a desperate bid to save her relationship with her only child, the author embarks on an exploration of her unresolved childhood trauma and the negative impacts that ultimately led to a rift with her daughter.

 

This courageous and emotional work is comprised of the author's unsent letters to her daughter, followed by a revisiting of each of the letters where the author shares her thoughts and reactions to her own words following extensive therapy and personal growth.

 

This powerful and candid story considers the long term and lasting harm caused by childhood trauma and the considerable impact and influence of our unconscious minds. Through her story, the author invites us to explore many areas of mental health, compassion and self-awareness. Ultimately, leading us to the fundamental constituents of genuine happiness, healing, forgiveness, and the extraordinary transformational power of love.

 

Book length: 327 pages

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christine Hashimoto
• Release date: May 13, 2024
• ISBN: 9781738329410

Christine Hashimoto

Christine holds a master's degree in Leadership from Royal Roads University and lives on beautiful Vancouver Island. She has worked in many different sectors including financial services, real estate, education, and government. When she's not working "to pay the bills", Christine can be found walking her two "little goofball" dogs, reading, writing, learning, or engaging in one of several creative hobbies.

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October 2, 2022

Dear Samantha:

I have decided to start writing you these letters because there is so much I need to say to you and even more that I want you to hear. I wish more than anything to be able to say these words to you in person but at this moment, I have no idea if I’ll get that opportunity. And even if I do, I know I will never remember everything. All of my thoughts, moments of clarity, humility and understanding, and the often confusing and destabilizing swirl of emotions. I wish I could send these letters to you, but you made it very clear that doing so would be a violation of the distance and separation you have asked for.

I do, however, hope you have an opportunity to read these letters one day because I believe they may be beneficial for both of us. For you, so you can hear my truth, sorrow and regret - everything in the most sincere and genuine way I’m able to communicate. For me, so that I know I did everything I could to provide you with an opportunity to see the most honest picture of me - who I was, who I am now, why I did the things I did, and the person and mother I hope to become. 

Please know that I am beyond trying to protect myself or endeavoring to portray myself in a better light. I want to take responsibility for my mistakes and give you a chance to know me as deeply as possible. We’ve never been close, and I know the responsibility for that belongs to me. I hope someday these letters might open the door to a new and better path for us and that you will come to see them as a gift of sorts. You deserve as much authenticity, truth and accountability as I can offer, and I want to give you this look inside my mind with the hope that it might help you heal your own wounds - many of which I know I caused. Most importantly, I hope in some way my words will bring you peace, understanding, clarity and healing.

There is so much I need to explain and so many things I want you to understand, that I almost don’t know how or where to start, and there is so much I need to make amends for. I am ashamed of the mistakes I’ve made and how blind I’ve been. More than anything, that’s what I want you to know and understand. I know I failed you and it is my single biggest regret. Doing everything I can to rectify this is really the only thing that matters to me anymore and I will do whatever it takes. I hope these letters and my willingness to be unflinchingly honest with you will show you how much this means to me. I love you so much and it breaks my heart to know you doubt that. I can only hope that these letters will help you to see that while I may have struggled to show you that love, it was, is, and will always be, the most powerful and meaningful thing in my life.

All my love,

Mom

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What strikes me most clearly reading this letter, despite the obvious pain and heartbreak, is how little understanding of the situation I actually had at the time. In particular, my understanding of myself. And I did, and likely still would, describe myself as having been relatively self-aware. Even my friends would have described me as self-aware. But from a therapeutic perspective, I can very honestly say that I was deluding myself. Looking back at myself now, all I can say is, wow! Just wow! I can’t believe how naïve I was!

Since developing a much clearer understanding of how broad and extensive my self-awareness can become, I have learned this invaluable lesson: I can’t force myself to confront something I’m not willing to confront. I’ve learned it firsthand through my own thoughts and behaviours. Until I’m ready, I just won’t be able to see it. I’m not being stubborn or difficult. My brain is just really good at protecting me and it won’t allow me to see something I’m not psychologically prepared to see.

And I believe that even the healthiest people who have done the most work still do this too. They just do it less often and with a greater awareness overall. Even I’ve had moments recently when I am aware that I’m actively avoiding something. Often not until after the fact, but on occasion, I’ve noticed a tiny bit of awareness in the moment. My brain just chooses to ignore that too!

And I can have some level of awareness that I’m avoiding something, but still be unable to stop myself from doing it. Perhaps, I’m lacking the depth of self-awareness or understanding I need to actively address it. Or, I have yet to heal the things I need to heal that will allow me to safely confront it. And, in those times when someone sees something I don’t, I must consider that it could be my brain refusing to acknowledge what they can see. Because my unconscious brain will take over in an effort to protect me from something it believes I’m not ready to see.

I find nowadays, when someone says something to me I don’t understand, or they’re seeing something I can’t, I assume I might be lacking some crucial awareness or knowledge. And if I approach it with curiosity rather than the defensiveness my brain will try to create, thus allowing the truth to reveal itself to me, it’s an opportunity to learn more about myself and deepen my self-awareness. And sometimes, I’m seeing what I’m seeing because I haven’t allowed myself to see some other thing that would enable me to recognize the falsehood of what I think I’m currently looking at.

If there’s one message here, it’s that my brain is fabulously complex. Able to build layer upon layer of beliefs, self-protection and adaptations that each feed into a multitude of other beliefs, self-protection and adaptations. So, I no longer judge myself when I’m struggling to see a necessary truth. I simply do my best to treat myself with patience, compassion and humanity knowing that if I continue to do the work, the truth will reveal itself when I’m ready to see it.

And here’s the kicker: I also know I still have a lot of work to do and believe that even now, I may not be clear on how much work remains or how much more self-awareness I might still gain. Because the more I can see, the more I can see. So, I’ve given up believing I can reach the pinnacle of any psychological growth target or level of understanding because the moment I do that, I stop searching and I owe it to myself to always strive for deeper wisdom and awareness.

In this first letter, I was wrestling with a lot of guilt and self-loathing, and I was apologizing for things I didn’t understand. I was apologizing for hurting my daughter because I knew I must have hurt her deeply for this to have happened. Yet I really didn’t have anything resembling awareness of what I’d actually done. I could not have provided you with anything beyond very broad strokes that I’d managed to piece together as I searched my memory for understanding. The truth and honesty of those apologies - and the sense of responsibility - were very real, valid, and necessary. And I just wanted my daughter to know that I was sorry. Even if I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for. All I knew was, I was genuinely sorry for any pain I had ever caused her and the damage that did to our relationship.

I believe I’ve made significant and substantial change since I wrote this letter. In fact, I truly feel transformed. But I have also had moments recently that have made it very clear that I still have a lot of work to do and in some ways, the most difficult things may still be on the horizon. As my therapist has patiently reminded me at least a handful of times now (because I tend to disregard these comments when I don’t want to accept that reality), I still have a lot of painful emotions to process, and I’ve had glimpses of that truth recently.

I’ve also learned a lot about myself and developed a much deeper understanding of how my childhood trauma impacted me and consequently, my daughter. There are things I was apologizing for when I wrote that letter that I wouldn’t apologize for now. And there are many things I needed to apologize for that I was unaware of. But I no longer feel at fault for many of those things. I am, frankly, relieved to be able to say with certainty that I did not understand or recognize the ways my trauma was impacting me. So, I can, with a clear conscious say I tried my best. Yes, I fell well short of being the kind of mother I would have wished for my daughter. But I also know I did my best with the knowledge, understanding, and lack of psychological health and self-awareness I was working with at the time. Which ties into something I have come to believe with certainty: I can’t blame myself for the things I couldn’t see. And that is called self-compassion.

October 25, 2022

Dear Samantha:

The thing that scares me the most is that I’m not going to get a second chance with you. The thing that torments me - that haunts every moment - is that while you were adamant that you needed space and I was not to contact you in any way, somewhere inside you is a hurt little girl who is testing me. I’m afraid that you’re waiting to see how hard I’ll fight for you and our relationship. So let me be clear: there is nothing you could ask of me that’s harder than giving you this space. Every instinct I have screams at me that this is a mistake. That this is the worst thing I can do. And in the end, will be the proof that hurt little girl is expecting to find and that ultimately, will seal my fate and serve as validation of what you already believe: that I don’t love you as much as I should.

I would do anything to prove my love for you and my sincere regret for the mistakes I’ve made. But there is nothing that could be more difficult than giving you this space. Because this terrifies me. It keeps me up at night. I’m afraid that even if we reconnect tomorrow, I’ve already run out of time. That I don’t have enough time left to get to know you the way I want to know you, and for you to know me in the ways you need to in order to help you heal. And I’m afraid there isn’t enough time to make amends for all the things I need to make amends for. So, believe me when I say, I am fighting for you by giving you the space you’ve asked for despite the pain and emptiness I feel because this is the most distressing and frightening thing I’ve ever had to do.

All I want is to show you how hard I’m working to change. To show you how important this is to me. Instead, I wait and hope I don’t run out of time. Not for me to absolve myself of guilt since I’m fairly certain that guilt will always haunt me and perhaps, that’s what I deserve. I’m afraid I won’t have time to tell you all of the things I want you to hear because you have the right to know the truth so you can heal and live the life you deserve. I want you to be able to see and feel the unending depths of my love for you and to know - really know - how incredibly proud I am of you.

I love you and I will not stop fighting for you. 

Always,

Mom

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This letter was written around the same time that I decided to begin therapy. Initially, my decision was based on my need to alleviate the overwhelming pain, fear, hopelessness, and anxiety I was experiencing. Understandably, I was really struggling to focus, and work was becoming increasingly difficult to manage. I was desperate for relief and therapy seemed like the logical choice.

As much as I would like to say I began therapy solely for my daughter, that wasn’t entirely the case. And this speaks to how completely unaware I was of my own trauma and the significant and extensive impact it had on how I parented. And that is a testament to how blind I was regarding the constructs of my own mind, the ways I engaged with others, how I understood the things that happened to me, and how I interpreted it all. I quite honestly did not understand that therapy would help me become a better mother. Never mind a better human being.

However, at my first appointment my therapist made it very clear that healing my childhood wounds was the best thing I could do for my daughter. In fact, she stated with certainty that if I didn’t do this work, I would be incapable of engaging with my daughter in a healthy way. And it was this knowledge that shifted my rationale for seeking therapy from my own needs to those of my daughter.

Had I understood I could improve myself and my parenting through therapy and how much my unresolved trauma was impacting those things, I would have begun decades ago. And if I had understood the negative impact my unresolved trauma was having on my daughter, I also would have begun decades ago. Now that I can so clearly see the ways I did hurt her - all the ways I fell short - I would give anything to turn back the hands of time so I could choose a better path. It’s the double edge of self-awareness: I don’t just see myself more clearly, I see all the ways I hurt myself and my daughter with a clarity that is staggering.

It’s an odd juxtaposition. I can see the harm I caused my daughter with such painful lucidity and coherence that it hurts my soul. Unbalanced, that clarity would be crushing. It still is in some ways. But I have also developed a much healthier picture of myself including an understanding of where my culpability begins and ends. And that healthy self-respect and self-worth allows me to manage the pain I feel.

In this letter, I talk about my fear that somewhere inside my daughter is a hurt little girl who is testing me. That the subconscious part of her that is still just a helpless child is waiting to see how hard I’ll fight for her. And one thing I have become very clear on is that because of my own childhood trauma, there was a little Christine inside of me who was waiting to be saved. That was one of the biggest challenges: figuring out how to save my inner child in the ways she needed to be saved. I understood some of her puzzle quite early: she needed to feel safe. But it wasn’t that simple, and I didn’t find a comprehensive answer to this until I’d completed nearly a year and a half of pretty intensive therapy.

But if my daughter’s trauma echoes my own, and I am assuming it does in some ways, then my willingness to fight for her is certainly a piece of that puzzle. But Samantha also has to be willing to save herself. And there is nothing I can do to change that. If I could carry it all - if I could alleviate her of that burden - because it is a treacherous and formidable path she needs to walk, I most certainly would. But my own journey along that path has made it abundantly clear that no one can take those steps for us. A therapist can serve as our guide, helping us steer clear of dead ends and boobytraps, but we still have to take every step ourselves.

Which leads me to a discussion about the willingness to change and its impact on my therapeutic success. As I gained a deeper understanding of myself, it became abundantly clear that if I really wanted to create long-term and measurable improvements in my relationships - whether they be personal or professional - I had to be willing to improve myself. And my ability to become the mother my daughter deserved was wholly dependent on changing what needed to change. And that meant being willing to change. Yes, there were certainly adjustments I could make that would be easier and require less effort on my part. But the improvements those kinds of changes would generate would be meager and relatively inconsequential.

The therapeutic process itself has been difficult, exhausting, and often extremely painful. I have uncovered things my subconscious has been hiding from me because of the psychological and emotional hardship that awareness would cause. And I definitely uncovered things about myself I would rather not admit to. But the result of doing that work brought an opportunity for a level of healing and psychological peace that I can’t begin to describe. The impact is remarkable and absolutely worth the work I had to do to get here.

And those changes are what allowed me to vastly improve every relationship I have. Because once I really began to understand myself, I understood why I got upset or angry about things when others did not. I understood why certain situations made me uncomfortable or even scared. I understood why some people frustrated and annoyed me. I understood the things that trigger me. And once I had that clarity, I could engage from a place of awareness. And that awareness changes the way I see almost everything and everyone - including myself. It allows me to interact with others from a place of compassion, clarity and understanding. It creates a level of humility that changes how I see people which significantly increases my patience and willingness to work with even the most difficult personalities.

But I did need to be willing to change. Or perhaps more accurately, I needed to be willing to acknowledge my truth regardless of how uncomfortable it was. It’s one of the reasons I’ve made such substantial progress in a relatively short period of time. I was completely open and willing to see whatever truth might reveal itself, while also being willing to change whatever I needed to change. But I had a very strong motivator. So, while the things I’ve had to face weren’t any easier to confront despite my willingness to confront them, I was prepared to do it for the sake of my daughter and our relationship.

And I now know with absolute certainty that there is nothing I might need to confront that isn’t going to be worth the positive benefit I will get out of the process. I know that the impact of the improvement in my mental health will outweigh my worst battle every single time. In my experience thus far, the bigger and scarier my demons were, the bigger and better the improvement I’ve been able to manifest through my willingness to confront them.

What was surprising for me was, the things I needed to change the most were things I was not able to see in the beginning. And I needed to be willing to see, and admit to, things about myself and who I am that were not just unhealthy, they were things I was ashamed of or afraid to acknowledge. While I didn’t struggle with a willingness to change, I did struggle with a willingness to see the things that needed to change. It was my truth and my unwillingness to see it that would get in my way.

There were things I was afraid to look at. There were, and still are, past traumas, associated triggers, adaptive behaviours, thoughts and beliefs that my brain has worked very hard to hide from me. I had to be willing to venture into the darkest, scariest parts of my mind. I needed to be willing to get close enough to see my ugliest truths. I needed to be willing to stand toe to toe with my demons and look them in the eyes - to stare them down. And many of those demons were things I was not yet aware of or had been unable to admit to myself. And the ones I could already see were much larger and more powerful than I had previously understood.

Having faced enough battles with my demons to consider myself a skillful warrior now, I will say the battles are worth it. I can also say it is one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do. There were moments I thought the demons were going to win. They were just too powerful and frightening. There were moments I circled the wagons or launched a full retreat. And that’s okay because I needed to give myself a moment to recover and regroup - to rally the troops. That’s when self-compassion became my greatest ally. It was something I had to work very hard to understand and instill inside of myself. But I still needed to turn back and engage in those battles again. I still needed to defeat my demons.

There were battles that caused so much injury I thought I might not recover. But I did recover and though it seemed counterintuitive in the moment, it was the battle itself that often developed the skills and knowledge I needed to win the fight and heal my wounds. In many ways, I had to be willing to break myself down before I could build myself back up again into a happier and healthier person. This is what I mean when I say I had to be willing to change.

But the skills, strength and resilience I have now because of those battles, means I know there isn’t anything I can’t face. And every relationship I have has vastly improved. Most importantly, I’m generally happy. Perhaps for the first time in my life. And this isn’t just a fleeting moment, it’s a constant sense of wellbeing and contentment that never wavers. Obviously, the loss of my relationship with my daughter overshadows that happiness, and there are painful and difficult moments and circumstances that temporarily obscure my ability to see and feel that underlying contentedness. But those positive feelings remain even through the worst moments and will pull me back to centre like a rudder.

I am also much better at navigating most of those difficult moments which means their impact on me has lessened. Whether it’s a less painful experience overall or just less time scrabbling around in the emotional mire, the impact of those moments is reduced. In fact, I believe I have gotten to a place where I have the skills necessary to manage the way something impacts me. Things still hurt and will cause a strong emotional reaction, but I am able to approach and consider the situation in a way that allows me to manage what the impact ultimately looks and feels like. There was a whole new and beautiful world out there. I just needed to be willing to make the journey.

But I do fear my daughter’s inner child is waiting for me to fight for her and she doesn’t understand that I’ve been fighting all along. Not just because I’m doing therapy, but because I’ve given her what I was told she wanted - to end our relationship. Despite the unending heartache that causes me. I hope and I pray that somehow my daughter’s inner child understands that by doing this - by giving her the space she insisted she needed - I am fighting the most difficult, most heart-wrenching battle possible. Showing up on her doorstep, sending all these letters I’ve written, calling, emailing, texting. I could do all of these things with relative ease. They’d certainly be a hell of a lot easier than giving her what she’s asked for. I just have to pray she understands that.

And I do worry that I’ve already run out of time to make up for all the things I need to make up for. I need to demonstrate to my daughter how much I love her - in a way that alleviates any doubt. I need to rebuild her trust in me, and trust is so incredibly easy to break and so immensely difficult to repair. And I need to help my daughter heal and through healing, finally be able to see how truly extraordinary she is. And I know that will all take a lot of time. I’m almost 53. While to some, that may seem like I still have a lot of time left, it feels terrifyingly short to me. And as each day passes, I see opportunity slipping through my fingers.

But I have learned patience and acceptance during my therapeutic journey. And life seems especially intent on driving that lesson home. It’s been a difficult couple of years to say the least. Even today, I’ve had another opportunity offered to me to hone my ability to accept things I’m not happy about while lacking the power to do anything about it.

But my daughter is proving to be the biggest lesson of all. Because if I could have the power to change one thing, it would be to have another chance with my daughter and to have that opportunity begin now. But that decision doesn’t belong to me. As things stand, I don’t even have the ability to influence that decision. So, I’m learning to accept that reality. Because there is no sense doing the thing I know we all do sometimes: spin myself into mental knots trying to find a solution to a problem when I know the solution doesn’t belong to me. I may be in the boat, but I’m not controlling the weather. All I can do is hang my head over the side, puke my guts out, and hope for calmer seas.

November 10, 2022

Dear Samantha:

I miss you. I know and sincerely regret that you may find that hard to believe. Despite how it may have appeared, you were never far from my thoughts. I always believed you weren’t very interested in my company or a close relationship with me as you got older. I’m not actually sure that’s entirely untrue though I realize the reasons for it may be different than what I believed. I don’t say this for sympathy but only because it’s true: I’ve never had much self-respect or felt myself worthy of being wanted and so it was easy for me to believe you felt the same way as the rest of my family - that I wasn’t someone worthy of a relationship with you. I honestly thought you just didn’t like me very much though I am beginning to understand that it is much deeper and more complicated than that. 

I always wanted to spend time with you though I realize I struggled to know how to engage in an impactful and meaningful way. Much of that comes from my own childhood with parents that seemed unable or unwilling to engage with me and teach me what being wanted felt like. I really didn’t know how to do it. I know that might sound foolish and perhaps even naïve, but it is the truth. And because I wanted you to be yourself and not feel like I was forcing you to be someone other than who you were, I didn’t try to pressure you into spending time with me.

I wish I had realized that I should have tried to talk to you and understand why you wanted distance from me. Although if I’m being honest, I believe I lacked the self-awareness and understanding to have been able to make any really impactful changes at the time. So, I left you alone. I understand now that I hurt you deeply. That you probably felt alone and unwanted or unloved, and the depth of pain and regret that causes me is unfathomable. I think about you all the time. I always have. 

I’m so sorry Samantha! I have so many regrets. I made so many mistakes and I’m sorry for any time those mistakes hurt you or left you feeling less than what you are – the centre of my heart and soul!

All my love,

Mom

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