To the parents of the broken hearted daughter,

Thank you. Thank you a million times. Thank you from the sun to the moon and back again. Because no thank you will be enough to you both.

You help saved me. In more ways than you’ll know. And more ways than I can express properly with words. So I will try my best, improperly of course because you raised a wild child of a daughter.

I still remember the day that I left him. I don’t remember it crystal clear, I remember it through a lens of foggy eyes and sniffles as I tried to reign in that I had been crying all day. I can’t remember who exactly I called first, other than I sat with it for many hours before I called. I know I received comfort in those phone calls from both of you. Yet, I also know I heard joy. Not as in a joyful way, but more as in the tone of your voice was relieved. Papa, you hid it well. In fact you hid it very well the whole time. Mama, your tone changed when I told you. Almost as a tone change of gratefulness, relief, and everlasting joy. It was subtle though, and typically when someone’s crying they’re not supposed to notice the change of tone but I was hyper aware that day. Yet, Mama, we all knew you were not a fan of him so I get the joy. Thank you for those phone calls of reassurance that I will be okay and conversations telling me I deserve so much better than what I settled for over those years.

And yes that day was important, because it seemed to be the start off our real relationships back to each other. But more importantly, thank you. Thank you both for calling me every single day, coming up with quite literally anything to say just so we could build our relationships again. Thank you for calling me every day and checking on me to make sure I wasn’t going to walk into the darkness and never return. I know some days I couldn’t breathe, and some days I couldn’t handle life, but every day I had you to calling me to tell me anything just so you knew I was okay.

You both had your words and moments and times where you were frustrated with me. And I would be too, especially after raising me a way that we thought implied to not fall for some of the bullshit. But you never stopped calling. And from 12 hours, 700 miles away, you held my hand until I could hold my own.

Some days that I couldn’t breathe meant more text from you, mama. It meant more laughter in the end because there was going to be an inside joke in there somewhere. And you would take the days I couldn’t breathe and give me nothing but oxygen that was pure. You turned a sad and bitter woman into someone who laughed.

And Papa, we came up with everything to talk about. Now, mom might get more information on some things, but I know it’s going to get to you anyways. However you and I have a different relationship where we can talk in a matter of changing the world. And you gave that back to me. We used to discuss how we were going to impact the world and then I just walked away from those conversations years ago to occupy a house that had no lights on because I was under a spell from that foolish boy. Yet, you Papa, welcomed to those conversations back in with the gleaming lights and smiles even though your days were just as tough. That right there added color back to my face.

I cannot say thank you enough for being present for it all. You and I, us three, all know what it took. It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t fun, and many times I was told by you guys, “this is a learning lesson.“ And every time that was said to me I wanted to bang my head against the wall, but the truth is that’s all it was. A long and brutal and intense learning lesson. But in this case, the lesson was learned. It's not just one lesson, it was so much more, and you two were there with me through all of the growing pains.

Thank you for helping me pick up all the pieces of myself and putting them back together. Thank you for loving me even when I couldn’t breathe, and supplying the oxygen whenever mine ran out.

I love you both and am forever grateful you.

Always Yours,

Alex Ann-ie