Reclaiming What Was Freely Given

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I’ve carried guilt for the money my mother gave me.

She didn’t need it, and it was money I would have inherited anyway. But still, the way she handed it over never felt entirely free.

It came with a tone.
With a shadow.
With an unspoken agreement I never signed but somehow still lived under:

“Look at everything I’ve done for you.”
“Don’t forget where that came from.”
“You owe me.”

So I spent some of it when I was younger in ways I now regret — impulsively, often emotionally — trying to fill the holes that years of emotional neglect had carved into me. And I hoarded what was left, afraid she’d find a way to take it back, or use it against me. Because in truth, she always used things against me.

And now that I have a level of financial safety — something I’ve never really known — there’s a strange discomfort in me.

Like I don’t deserve it.
Like something bad might happen.
Like I should feel guilty for having something she “gave,” even though it wasn’t truly hers to begin with — and even though it would have come to me eventually, regardless.

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💔 Why the Guilt Lingers

Because the money wasn’t just money.
It was the only form of care she ever really offered.

Not warmth.
Not holding.
Not presence.
Not attunement.

Just the cold basics: shelter, and money.

And yet she uses them to tell herself she’s a “good mother,” even while denying and avoiding every emotional responsibility that comes with being one.

So of course the guilt isn’t clean.
Because the love never was.

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🕯️ The Truth I’m Holding Now

She passed on that money.
And I accepted it.

But I no longer accept the emotional strings that were tied to it.
Because now I see what it was really about — her needs, not mine.

And now I’m using that money not to impress her, not to escape my pain, and not to prove anything.

I’m using it to build something different.
Something mine.

Something peaceful.
Something stable.
Something I would want my son to inherit — not just financially, but emotionally.

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✉️ A Letter to Myself

You didn’t take anything that wasn’t already yours.
You didn’t manipulate, demand, or exploit.
You received what was passed on — and now you get to choose what it means.

This money is not a debt.
It’s not a leash.
It’s not a symbol of shame.

It’s a resource.
It’s an opportunity.
It’s a second chance — not for her, but for you.

You get to use it to create a life that reflects your truth.
A life rooted in emotional honesty, not performance.
A life where your son will never have to wonder if love comes with strings.

You’ve earned this life.
Not because she handed over the money —
But because you survived what couldn’t be bought.