Happy No Contact Anniversary To Me!!

Today marks the day where I finally cut ties with my Narcissistic Mother for good! 3 blissful years without that witch in my life! Honestly; I wish I had made the decision sooner.

Going back to the day itself, if you have read my blog post Uneducated…Me? you will know that this was well overdue.

My sister Kara had told me that my mother had told her that she didn’t want me to spend Christmas with them that year. She had told her that she couldn’t forgive me for what I had done and that as I was 26 years old, I needed to move on with my own life; I wasn’t aware that being 26 meant that I was no longer allowed to have a relationship with my family; but then this is my mother saying this, so I wasn’t surprised.

Kara told my mother she wasn’t getting involved; I had told Kara that if my mother doesn’t want me there on Christmas day then she needed to tell me herself. We decided I would play dumb and pretend Kara hadn’t told me. That said, my mother messages me saying “I can’t move on from all that shit ok”. I replied to her asking her to call me as she couldn’t just send me a message like that without an explanation. She kept avoiding the call and telling me she was busy and that I should speak with Kara. This had nothing to do with Kara and I wasn’t going to give my mother the easy way out; I was ready for this, I knew what was coming and I needed to get it all out.

After going back and forth with her telling me she couldn’t forgive me, I finally convinced her to call me. Now at this moment in time I was writing a book, solely focused on my relationship with my mother; therefore I needed to record this phone call as I knew it was going to play a big part in the ending of my book.

This phone call was about to be the best moment of my life. I was finally about to go no contact…

*Phone Rings*

Me: Hello…

Mother: So, yeah that message, that’s just how I feel

Me: Right, well I still don’t understand what it is you can’t forgive?

Mother: Do I really need to remind you? Telling Nanny about the affair, messaging his wife.

Now, my step-father had begged me for days to message his friends wife when he found out my mother had been having an affair with him. In the end I gave in and told him if he thought it would help then I would do it; despite me thinking it was a bad idea

Me: Let’s just get two things straight. I rung my Nan to see if she was okay, she then starts having ago at me because you had told her a load of lies. So, naturally I am going to tell her the truth, to clear my name. I had NO intention of even telling her, as she didn’t need to know. Secondly, I only messaged the wife because Mike kept begging me to. In the end I got sick of him breaking down to me every day, so I agreed.

Mother: Well, Mike said he didn’t even know you had spoken to her.

Me: How do you think I got her number?

Mother: Kara gave it to you

Me: I swear on my life that Kara had nothing to do with it

Mother: Well someone’s lying

Me: What reason do I have to lie, ask Mike now.

My mother goes into the other room and tells my step-father that I had just told her he had given me the number to message his friend’s wife. He denied it and said he couldn’t remember. I couldn’t believe he was willing to let my 18 year old sister; his own daughter, take the blame for this. He told my mother I was lying and at that moment I knew I would never speak to that poor excuse of a man ever again.

Me: So, the two things you couldn’t forgive me for have been addressed. What else?

Mother: Don’t worry, Mike is getting kicked out tonight

Me: I don’t really care what happens between you two, that has nothing to do with me

Mother: Oh yeah, that’s you. Only care about yourself

Me: Well, I am the only person I can rely on. So, of course I am going to put myself first

Mother: Your attitude stinks, even Kara has less respect for me when you are here

Me: That’s something you need to take up with Kara if you think that. Again, that has nothing to do with me

Mother: It’s true, even Kevin has said so

Me: Kevin never said that

Mother: Oh, is that your plan? Get inside your brother’s head like you did with Kara

Me: I didn’t get into anyone’s head- Kara has her own mind and opinions

Mother: Well this thing you have with Kara is going to stop

Me: What a relationship with my sister?

Mother: You are not welcome in my house anymore. You only come here to see Jayden. It’s quite clear you don’t like me

Me: Obviously I only come to see Jayden; he is 6 years old. I want to have a relationship with my brother

Mother: Well, you can see him once a month, you’ve had your visit with him this month so you can see him just before Christmas

This was absolutely fine by me; I only put up with my mother for the sake of seeing Jayden, so this set up couldn’t be better for me

Mother: When Nanny died, you used that as your way to worm back in and I never wanted that

Me: I didn’t try and worm my way back in. I just wanted to see my brother

After my Nan died; Jayden was broken. With his parents arguing all the time because of the affair, me not being around and then my Nan dying, it was all too much for him. He used to be the happiest little boy, but when I looked at him after all of this, you could literally see the pain. It killed me to see him like that. He was having panic attacks and my Mother was blaming it on my Nan’s death; so this is why I put up with her and tried to be around for him as much as I could.

Mother: You know, I’ve done so much for you and this is how you treat me

Me: This is another thing I’m trying to get my head around. You keep going on about all that you have done for me. What is it exactly that you have done for me?

Mother: I CLOTHED YOU!! I FEED YOU!!!

I had remained calm the whole conversation, but now I was ready to explode. I couldn’t keep it all in anymore. I had been gathering my evidence for months and I was ready to be rid of this woman for good.

Me: BUT YOU DIDN’T SEND ME TO SCHOOL THOUGH DID YOU?!?

Mother: Why didn’t you go to school? Because you were always ill

Me: So, I wasn’t on the child protection register for neglect no?

Mother: You were never on a register

Me: Stop lying, I have a whole file of evidence sitting in my room from Social Services. It’s all there in black and white

Mother: Whatever, you need help. You have mental health problems making something like that up

Me: You are the one that needs help. You need to go and get your head checked 

Mother: You really do have 100% of the crazy gene. You need help *laughing*

Me: So, you wasn’t taken to court and fined? I wasn’t almost taken into care? Lie all you want mother because at the end of the day, we both know the truth and I have a clear conscience

Mother: Yeah, so do I. You’re crazy

Me: You know what? You’re the only person in the world that thinks these things about me, and I don’t value your opinion. So, I don’t care what you think

Mother: Well, I know the real you!

Me: You know nothing about me. You seriously need help, this is not going to get any better. Mother you are not well in the head. Get out more, get some friends, it’s not healthy to live like this

My mother then starts screaming at me. She was hysterical. Telling me she has loads of friends. She starts reeling off a list of names of people that do not talk to her anymore. I ask her to tell me someone who is still her friend. She couldn’t so she just starts attacking me again.

Mother: Who do you think you’re talking to? You are never to step foot over my door step again do you hear? And don’t think you are ever seeing Jayden again. I wish I never had you, I should have got rid of you when I had the chance

Me: If it meant having you as my mother, than I wish you had too! You carry on using Jayden as your weapon. When he’s older he will hate you just as much as I do. You will drive him away too. Then who will you control?

Mother: I don’t control anyone

Me: You are controlling Jayden right now

Mother: Well, take me to court! Cause you’re not seeing him

My mother always knew how to push my buttons. I had remained so calm, but I never wanted to speak to this witch again. I needed her to know.

Me: You low life piece of scum. You are going to mess that little boy up so much

Mother: Yeah, cause I’m going to neglect him, I forgot, like I neglected you

Me: You really are a crazy bitch

Mother: How dare you call me a crazy bitch!! You better watch yourself, because things are going to start happening to you

*Phone cuts off*

I sat there for a minute digesting what had just happened. Just like that, a weight had been lifted. I felt free. For the first time in my life I didn’t feel empty or sad. I felt happiness, I felt relieved.

That’s when I knew, this time, this would be it.

Here is to the 3 years of growth I have allowed myself to experience. Now I can finally be me….

 

 

 

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Next of Kin…

Until yesterday my next of kin wasn’t something I had really thought about…

I’ve been unwell for a few weeks now but when I woke up yesterday morning I knew I needed to stop being so stubborn so I called 111 just to see what they suggested. As I spoke the advisor through my symptoms she said she was sending an ambulance right away. At that moment I just wanted my mum; well not MY mum but a mum. 

With a combination of pain and fear I just burst into tears. Luckily my best friend was with me and her comforting made me feel better. I braved up and told myself I could do this. I messaged my Aunt who was off work and she said she would meet me at the hospital. 

When the paramedic arrived he done a few tests and asked a few more questions. When he asked me for my next of kin I hesitated. I’ve never really thought about this before. Who would I put down? I quickly just gave my cousins details as she drives and would always be able to get to me quickly. 

This question played on my mind the whole way to the hospital. I’ve been fine living my life without my mother; but all of this time she has probably been down as my next of kin. Could you imagine her getting the call to make decisions about my life, if god forbid anything was to happen!?

I arrived at the hospital before my Aunt; I looked around and saw a young girl waiting with her mother and an older woman waiting with her son. That ache of needing someone with me started to come back. I was so scared. Not knowing what was wrong with me or if I was about to be taken into surgery. I was clueless. 

I started to think about the one other time in my life where I had been admitted to hospital. I had been getting shooting pain type headaches so the doctor adviced I go straight to the hospital for a blood test. When I got there I blacked out and woke up in a hospital bed. My boss at the time had taken me to the hospital so I asked her if she could contact my mother and let her know; as this was when we were still talking. 

Within 5 minutes of my boss making that call, my phone started to ring. I answered the phone to what I expected to be a concerned mother; but instead I got abuse hurled at me. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in hospital!? Instead I have to hear it from someone else!” I was confused. Did she think this was a preplanned appointment or something? How could I have possibly known when I woke up that morning that I would be wired up in a hospital bed. 

I told her I needed to go as she was proving to be more stress than I needed. However I continued to receive messages from her the entire time; asking for updates, telling me she didn’t need this stress and that she had enough going on. I don’t know why I even bothered telling her I was in hospital. It was a waste of time. I don’t know why I actually thought she would have been in the first taxi to the hospital to be there with her daughter… no not my mother. 

What I realised after both of these hospital incidents however, hasn’t been how unlucky I am to not have a mother to be there and hold my hand or to worry about not having an obvious next of kin. But to just count my blessings at how lucky I am to have such an amazing support network around me. I can’t be thankful enough for all the well wishes and good gestures I’ve received. 

I may not have my mother, but my circle continues to be as tight as it can be. 

Just a Mother to Love Me

The last few weeks have been really tough. I have had a real empty feeling and I have been unsure why. I never miss my mother; and I still don’t miss her personally, but I miss something. I’m not sure if it has anything to do with the mother figure I did have moving away, but it is a feeling I have been struggling to shake.

I feel like I have so much love inside me  as a result of not being able to express this towards anyone as a child. And I just want to be able to love a mother, but because I can’t, I focus that love on other people and sometimes that isn’t always received very well and it sends me back to that empty feeling.

September is always a bit of a strange month for me anyway; I think the build up to the festive season plays a big part in this. The thought of Christmas makes me feel physically sick. Everyone planning their family Christmas’. The question “what are you doing for Christmas this year?” is literally my worst nightmare.

I HATE Christmas! No matter how wonderful a Christmas day can be, it no longer involves my siblings; so being included in someone else’s day will never feel like my Christmas. My first Christmas away from my siblings felt so awful that I booked a trip alone to Dubai for the following Christmas, just to get away from it. This year marks my fourth Christmas without my siblings and I am already dreading it.

Everywhere I look lately there are people expressing their love for their mothers; I don’t feel bitter towards them, I am glad they have mothers they can love unconditionally; it is just starting to feel a bit suffocating. Daily I am seeing posts on social media about how much we should love our mothers as we only get one.

These posts infuriate me. Why should I love my mother just because she gave me life? Does giving someone life allow them to put you through years of emotional abuse? Just because she wasn’t beating me every day doesn’t mean what she was doing wasn’t damaging.

Imagine having to go through years of being told your aren’t good enough! Years of being purposely isolated! Not being allowed an opinion because nothing you said was ever correct! Years of coming home and being completely ignored; beating yourself up inside wondering what you could have done to upset her! Years of any confidence you had being picked at; breaking you down bit by bit… I should love that?

Yet still I feel that empty feeling, and I hate myself for allowing myself to have any emotion related to my mother; even though I know it’s natural.  I just wish that for one day, I could be normal and have a mother that loves me. Just for one day to have a mothers shoulder to cry on and tell me everything is going to be okay. Just for one day to have someone to take care of me for once. I don’t miss MY mother, I miss the idea of a mother and I wish just for one day, I had one…

A Day Not Worth Celebrating

22nd July… A day that has never really been a day I wish to celebrate. And this year it marks my mother’s 50th Birthday.

Birthdays have always been difficult. A whole day where my mother expected to be treated like a queen; when she didn’t deserve to even be spat on if she was on fire. Choosing birthday cards had always been the most problematic task ever. Card shops really don’t cater to “I hate your guts and wish you were never born”; I just couldn’t bring myself to give my mother a false sense of appreciation by giving her a card that says I couldn’t have asked for a better mother. 

From a young age; I mean before I started working, I was expected to provide my mother with a birthday present. I was never given pocket money, so I don’t know how she expected this, but she did. I would have to save my school dinner money so I could get her a gift. She would always tell me what she wanted, yet would be extremely ungrateful and disappointed when receiving what she had asked for. I couldn’t win. 

Half of the time she wouldn’t even use the gift and it would sit there collecting dust for years. There were even times she expressed so much dissatisfaction she actually said, “I didn’t want this, you shouldn’t have bothered”. I offered her one last chance to appreciate my efforts, and asked her if she wanted to go to the spa for the day; when she responded with “I couldn’t think of anything worse than spending a day alone with you”, I knew my gift giving days were over and I was happy to accept the selfish daughter award; it’s not like it was something I wasn’t accustomed to. 

When I think that my mother is now turning 50; I feel content inside. To look at how much I have achieved already in life, it really is quite satisfying. I used to have terrible anxiety that I was going to end up like my mother; however now I see that we are so far from the same, I never have to worry again; and I know when I reach 50 I will still be surrounded by friends and family that love me. 

Yet, obviously without my mother I wouldn’t be here today. So, in “honour” of her 50th birthday this is my message to her:

I can’t say happy, as I am not positive the day you were born was a happy day. However, I am thankful to you…

Thank you for trying to break me so that I learnt how to become unbreakable.

Thank you for allowing me to realise the type of person I never want to become.

Thank you for teaching me self-worth .

Thank you for allowing me to appreciate even the small gestures.

Thank you for pushing me away so I could surround myself with loving people.

Thank you for challenging every decision I ever made so that I learnt how to handle difficult situations.

And thank you mostly, for making me a better person, you have taught me determination, dedication and appreciation. 

Some days really aren’t worth celebrating and although today is one of those days, I will celebrate; because I am me because of everything you put me through and I’m one heck of a strong woman. All thanks to you…

The Sacrifice of No Contact

Going no contact with my mother was by far the best decision I have ever made in life. Even though it wasn’t really my decision as my mother disowned me (her words not mine) it was my decision to stay no contact when she tried to worm her way back in my life.

One of the factors that made no contact hard for me, was my brother; Jayden. When I first tried to cut ties with my mother, Jayden was only 5 years old. There is 20 years between Jayden and I so we have a bond that isn’t like the bond I have with my other siblings. Loving a sibling feels different when you are old enough to be their parent.

Even on his first night home after being born, my mother went to bed to rest and I kept Jayden in the room with me so I could give him his night feeds. His first night in the real world and it was me comforting him to sleep. How could we not have such a tight bond?

We would go to baby play groups together, I’d take him to nursery and pick him up. Our neighbours even thought he was mine as we were always together.

My mother knew how much I loved Jayden, and she used this to her advantage. Jayden was her weapon, he was my weak spot. She knew the only way to get to me was to take Jayden out of the picture and she did; so many times.

My first real attempt at no contact came as a result of the affair, it torn me to pieces not being able to see Jayden. I cried myself to sleep most nights, I had never felt pain like this, I didn’t know how to deal with it. I was at rock bottom. I cried at work, on the bus, in the supermarket, in the shower. There were reminders of Jayden everywhere I looked; everything triggered a breakdown.

My biggest fear was that Jayden would think I left him because I didn’t love him. I begged my sister to tell him the truth. However he knew. He would secretly ask my sister if he could message me on her phone. He would send me heart emojis and voicenotes. My mother soon found out; you can’t expect a 5 year old to not say anything. She went ballistic and my sister got into a lot of trouble for it. I was devastated that I couldn’t even get an emoji from him anymore; but my sister sent me a video of Jayden saying “Mummy doesn’t like Ky Ky” so I knew that he understood that it wasn’t me that left him.

I was losing my mind. I went to see a solicitor to see if I had any rights to have access to Jayden. She pretty much said it would cost me thousands to take to court and fight a battle I wouldn’t win. I had no chance.

On Jayden’s 6th birthday I was so worried that he would think I didn’t care about him, so I decided to just turn up at the house. What’s the worse that can happen? I knocked on the door. My mother answered and she did not look impressed, Jayden came running around the corner, as soon as he saw me his face lit up and he shouted “KY KY”.

I just came to drop off Jayden’s present” I state. My mother looked at Jayden, who was now grinning from ear to ear and she reluctantly says “come in“. Jayden and I were both ecstatic. He was so excited; showing me everything he got for his birthday. He asked me if I would play Monopoly with him. I was letting him win; he’s always hated losing. Yet this time Jayden didn’t seem to want to win. He kept giving me his money when I was close to losing, when I asked him why he said “If it’s not game over then you won’t have to go home” I wanted to cry, it’s his 6th birthday he shouldn’t be worrying about these things.

When it was time for me to leave, Jayden was really upset, I gave him a big hug and told him if it is a while until we see each other again to remember how much I loved him. Although I was happy that I was able to spend his birthday with him, I still couldn’t help but to feel heavy hearted, because I didn’t know if there would be a time I could see him again. So I walked home in tears, hoping this would not be the end.

Another 4 weeks went by and I didn’t see Jayden, until my Grandmother died. Then everything was brushed under the carpet, never to be discussed again and carry on as “normal”. If you have read my blog Uneducated…Me? you will already know how I got through this time. I was putting on a front for the sake of seeing Jayden.

We carried on this pretence for 7 months, before my mother flipped again. She messaged me saying “I can’t do this anymore”. We got into a massive argument; which is a whole other blog post in itself. This was when I decided to go no contact for good. 21st November 2014.

It was a hard decision to make as I knew it meant giving up Jayden. However for my own sanity I had to. Surprisingly, I still saw Jayden a few times. My sister was allowed to bring him over to my house on a few occasions. However there were times where my mother would cancel arrangements. Everything was always done through my sister as I didn’t want to speak with my mother at all. I started to get a lot of “Jayden’s been rude so can’t see you today” excuses. So this is when I knew it was time to distance myself from these visits with Jayden too. It wasn’t fair on either of us. When we were together we would have the best time ever. He loved our adventures. It wasn’t fair for him to keep having me ripped out of his life. I would rather not be around to allow him to have this pain. I just hoped he would understand when he was older.

I miss him everyday, wondering what he’s doing, what he’s like now; but I still feel like this is the best decision in the long run. Giving him up was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. The pain I have will never go away from missing out on all these years with my brother, but it does get slightly easier knowing he’s one more year closer to making his own mind up.

Of course, my mother being my mother, wasn’t going to just accept this. Recently on Jayden’s 9th Birthday I got a call from my sister. I answered it and she said Jayden wanted to talk to me. My heart sunk. He came on the phone and I instantly got a lump in my throat. “Can I see you today?” he asked. I was so confused, I knew he wouldn’t ask that without it being agreed with my mother; he knew better than to ask to see me. “Of course” I said excited. He continued to say “Great, we’re going to get pancakes in about an hour, so what time should we meet you?” I started to feel uneasy about this so I asked “who’s coming?” As soon as I heard him say “mummy” I told him I would arrange it with our sister.

When my sister came back on the phone I was livid. “You can’t just put me in a situation like that” She cut me off and quickly said “Ok, cool I’ll speak to you in a bit” then hung up. I stopped what I was doing and sat there in disbelief. This woman still knew just how to get me and it worked. My sister messaged me to say sorry, she said that my mother had told her to ring me right away and not to warn me beforehand, she had then stood there the whole phone conversation.

I told my sister there was no way I would sit in the same room as this woman, but was happy to meet my brother and her after so I didn’t have to see my mother. We both knew this wasn’t going to go down well but it was worth a shot. We were right though. My mother went into a rage, saying that if I couldn’t sit down with her then I couldn’t see my brother. She then turned to Jayden and said “see, it’s not me stopping her from seeing you. She doesn’t want to, not even on your birthday” 

I was so annoyed that she tried to get to me again; ok, she had got to me. Not her personally, but hearing Jayden’s voice asking to see me and knowing that he had his hopes shattered on his birthday, this is what broke me.

It had been over 2 years since this woman had made me cry. I needed to let her know exactly how I felt. I didn’t want to break my no contact, but decided sending her a message and then blocking her straight away would just confirm it for me.

So that is exactly what I did, and I sent the following:

The sooner you get it into your head that I NEVER want to see you again, the better. I told you years ago to stop using Jayden as a weapon and you are still trying it. If the only way I can see Jayden is to have to put myself through the torture of seeing your twisted, f**cked up, poisonous self; then I will wait until he’s older and can make his own choices. YOU ARE DEAD TO ME. Don’t mention my name, don’t think about me and don’t ever speak to me again. Act like I don’t exist cause I sure as hell do the same with you.”

I don’t regret sending it and I don’t regret the decision I made to not see Jayden. I’m not happy that this is how things have to be, however if I am going to be the strong sister he is going to one day need, then I need to stay away. I just hope he doesn’t hate me for it…

Don’t Under Estimate Self-Healing


I posted this image on my social page, and someone commented saying “This is going to take therapy”. Although in some cases this may be true, I strongly believe that you can self-heal without stepping inside a therapist’s office. I mean I did.
I want more people to understand what they can do to help with their healing process, whilst this may not work for everyone, it can definitely help. Therapists aren’t always an option for people. So, believe in yourself and you will be amazed at just how strong you can be.

One of the best “therapies” I had was a good support network. I am truly blessed with the people I have around me; they have listened to me cry about the same situation time and time again, never judging, just allowing me time to work through it. Being able to just express my pain, helped in a way I would have never imagined.

Of course, not everyone will always understand your situation, but since creating this blog I have discovered a massive community of people that have sadly lived similar experiences to me. So, if you ever feel like your support network don’t understand or if you can’t talk to them about your Narcissistic Abuse then join one of the many support networks on Facebook or follow similar accounts on Instagram. The support you get will shock you. I don’t think I would believe so much in self-healing without meeting some of these people.

Another huge evolution of my healing process was going no contact with my mother. I have been no contact with my mother for 2 years and 7 months now. Removing her from my life was one of the best decisions I ever made for my well-being. I never would have made it this far otherwise. If you have gone no contact with your Narc then pat yourself on the back! You should be proud of yourself. It is such a hard accomplishment to reach.

If you have tried to go no contact and have found yourself drawn back; don’t worry, I have done this myself so many times before I realised enough was enough. I’m sure many others have too. It doesn’t mean you aren’t strong at all. People’s processes just take longer. It took me 8 years of trying to go no contact to finally break free, I am sure some have succeeded quicker and some took longer.

Going no contact isn’t always an option though, everyone has different circumstances, so if you haven’t gone no contact don’t beat yourself up. Sometimes knowing how to manage a Narc will be what works for you. This is just what has driven me so please don’t feel like you must go no contact if you know deep down this isn’t what is right for you. Trust me you will know when you need to.

During my recovery, I realised that a lot of the decisions I made in life were based on me thinking “how would my mother react to this?” I was constantly trying to avoid doing things that I knew would send my mother into a Narcissistic Rage. I am still working through this part of my recovery; however, I am finally starting to make decisions for me, and not on how others will react. This is helping massively in finding my true self and I am achieving things I had never dreamed of.

Do something you love. I have been blessed to have travelled to some of the most beautiful places in the world. Being able to travel so much really helped my soul. I am most happy when I am basking in the sun taking in the most breath-taking views and exploring different cultures.

When I can’t be laying on a beach, I try to spend as much time as possible with the children in my life. I have none of my own yet, but I am lucky to have a lot of younger cousins and an amazing Godson. There is something about their pure innocence that takes you away from all the heartache. You can’t not be happy around a child; unless you are a Narc! So, this time with them has really healed the cracks in my soul.

Of course, I still have days where I am tempted to go back, for the sake of seeing my younger brother. We all have days where we are weaker than others; it’s natural. Then I remember the severe heartache I was put through and I recall why I went no contact and how strong I have become in doing so.

I knew I would come out of the other side a happier person, this is what helped me not to break. The narcissist you are escaping wants you to fail, so use that to enable everything in your power to succeed and prove them wrong.

I can admit that I used to be a very negative person. I was moulded by my mother into seeing the bad in every situation. I decided I need to turn all of that around to avoid becoming like her. I try to see the positive in every situation now.  Sure, we are all human and will not always think in this way. However I strongly live by the law of attraction now, I honestly trust that what I think, I will attract. This way of thinking has literally changed my life.

Like I said, self-healing is not for everyone, but don’t knock it. You will be surprised how far you can come if you trust yourself. I never did but I wish I had sooner…

Mind Games and Silent Treatment

Silent treatment is quite possibly one of the worst “disciplines” you can receive as a child. It inflicts so much pain without physically causing visible agony.

My mother’s favourite punishment was the silent treatment. I hated it. Not knowing what was on her mind and what could happen next was the most terrifying experience I think I have ever lived through. Unless you have been subject to excessive silent treatment you won’t understand the feeling of loneliness, isolation and despair it can cause.

Another love of my mother’s was to play mind games. Manipulating me into thinking in a certain way or encouraging me to doubt myself was literally something my mother lived for.

I think my first recollection of this type of behaviour was when I was about 9 years old. My head teacher was leaving and had announced that she was running a competition for the whole school to enter a self portrait to be displayed in her new office. I was so excited. As soon as I got home I dug out my best drawing paper and my marker pens and started sketching away. My mother walked past my room and asked what I was doing. I told her about the competition. She looked at my paper in disgust and laughed “I don’t know why you are bothering, it looks nothing like you. You’re never going to win.”

I was so disappointed. I studied my finished portrait and agreed that it was rubbish. There was no way I would win. There were 400 students in my school and there would be only one winner. I had no chance. I handed it in anyway, I saw my friend’s self portraits and they were brilliant. Everyone else was so talented. I remember thinking, I wish for once there was just one thing I could be the best at. My friend’s were so cool. There was the one who could sing, the one who could dance, the one who was super artistic, the one who was a wiz with maths, the theatrical one, and then there was talentless me, the quiet, shy one; whose biggest talent was getting a nappy on a wriggling toddler.

On my Head Teacher’s last day we had a whole school assembly so she could announce the winner of the competition. She said the entries were so good it was really hard for her to pick just one winner; so there would be 3 runner up prizes that received a Head Teacher’s award. Maybe I had a shot at becoming runner up I thought! I suddenly had hope. She called up her 3 runner ups; unsurprising to me my name wasn’t called. My mother was right, I never should have believed my entry could be good enough for this competition. I zoned out until my friend started nudging me, “You won! You have to go to the stage”  she grinned. Wait.. Did I hear her right? I won? This can’t be right. Out of all the children, I WON?! I was ecstatic, from that day forward I promised myself that I would NEVER let anyone tell me I wasn’t capable of something. I would prove everyone wrong! Including my mother!

I went home that day and was so excited to share my news with my mother. She couldn’t have been less impressed. She shrugged her shoulders and said “She probably just felt sorry for you”.

Shorty after the competition win we were planning our class assembly of ‘The Tortoise and the Hare’ I really wanted to play the part of the hare so I put myself forward. Winning the competition had given me the confidence to believe in myself, I wanted to show people I could be talented too and this was my chance. My teacher said that my attendance wasn’t good enough for me to play the main character, so she gave me the part of a tree. Everyone knew if you played the tree you were just a spare part in the play that couldn’t be placed anywhere else.

I was so upset that when my mother came to collect me that day I started to tell her that my teacher said I couldn’t be the hare, before she would let me explain why she went marching over to my teacher. She was screaming at her asking her why she had excluded me from the play and not allowed me a proper role. When the teacher explained that this was due to my attendance my mother turned to me and snarled “well you didn’t tell me that part did you? Now you have just made me look like an idiot, I am not coming to watch you play a tree!” She stormed off and left me standing there. My teacher could see how distressed I was, just as she went to put her hand on my shoulder my mother shouted over for me to hurry up and come with her. I ran off quickly not to annoy her anymore.

The walk home was horrific. My mother refused to speak to me, I tried to make small talk with her and I just got the silent treatment. I just wanted to burst into tears, but I knew that wouldn’t help the situation. I was starting to realise that my mother was like a ticking time bomb and I needed to be very careful with my approach towards her. I spent the rest of the evening with no conversation from my mother.

The next day, my teacher called me over. She put her hand on my shoulder; like she had wanted to the day before, and whispered “I want to give you a chance. If you can promise me that your attendance will be 100%, I am going to give you the part of the hare. If you miss one day though I will give the part to someone else. There are a lot of lines to learn, so if you struggle make sure you let me know” I was beyond thrilled. I was going to show everyone just how great I could be at this, that they will never doubt me again!

When I left school that day  I couldn’t wait to tell my mother the great news; this would be sure to stop the silent treatment I was getting. I couldn’t have been more wrong. My mother wasn’t impressed in the slightest and all I got from her was “She only gave you the part because she’s scared of me. I’m still not coming because you decided to show me up in front of your teacher.” 

I was upset, but I cared less than the incident with the self portrait. I was going to do this with or without her support. I perfected my lines and I was the star of the show, I couldn’t have been more proud of myself.

I was attending school more often, I was forming bonds with a great group of kids and I was actually happy.

One day when leaving school I realised I had forgotten my lunch box, I jumped out of line to get it and one of the strictest teachers in the school; Mr Sale, grabbed my arm and pulled me back into the line. It really hurt, I was a really thin child and given the force he used my arm was quite sore. I came out rubbing my arm, my mother saw it was a bit red so asked me what had happened and I told her. She hit the roof; quite naturally. The whole way home was in silence. I felt like I had done something wrong and I didn’t want to add to her anger so I kept quiet.

When we got home my mother was still livid. It was actually quite nice to see that she did care; so I thought. She called the school and demanded a meeting with the Head Teacher in the morning. She then turned to me and said “Right, now we need to go to the police station and report this, but first we need better evidence”. I had no idea what she meant by this until she started grabbing my arm and pulling it to try and make a mark. I pulled away and told her it hurt too much and I didn’t want her to do it again, but she carried on.

Pulling at my arm wasn’t helping, so she folded up a tea towel, wrapped it around my arm and started pulling it to make it tight. I was in agony, I started to fight back and try to get free of her tight grip. This made her pull on the tea towel harder, until she couldn’t control me so she pinned me down whilst my step father tightened the tea towel. I was crying from all the pain and begging them to stop. Eventually the tea towel bought out the bruising from where my mother had been grabbing my arm. She was satisfied that the mark was clear enough. So we went to the police station to report it. They took photos and I had to give a statement. I knew better than to tell them how I actually got the mark.

When we met with the Head Teacher the next day Mr Sale was there too. I was worried he was going to be arrested for something that had been extremely exaggerated. The Head Teacher apologised to my mother over and over again and ensured her that nothing like this would ever happen again. My mother just kept ranting about how her “poor child” had been neglected in the schools care and she wanted Mr Sale to admit he had grabbed me. After an hour of disputing my mother turned to Mr Sale and said “All I want to know is did you or did you not grab my daughter?” When he finally said yes she replied, “Thank you, that’s all I wanted to know” and we left.

I’m still so confused as to what my mother wanted to achieve from this. It was like she so badly needed to hear that he had grabbed me to make herself feel better for the pain she had inflicted on me. Whatever her motive of that day was, I will never know.

As I got older, the silent treatment was more regular. Most days I would come home from school and be ignored. I just put it down to my mother being in a bad mood. When I reached about 15 years old, there were so many things I was confused about in life that I wanted to discuss with my mother. However I feared that ticking time bomb so much that instead I just became more and more isolated. She doesn’t realise that years and years of silent treatment changed me. From the bubbly, confident child that had so much potential, to the reserved, introverted adult I am today, who has fought for everything I have…

 

 

Dear Mother…

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how obsessed my mother has been with me over the years. Hacking into my Facebook, logging into my sister’s Facebook to stalk my best friends page, bringing me up in every argument she has with my sister; even after not speaking to her for 2 ½ years, she still has to mention my name in.

There was a time where my mother had blocked me on Facebook, but would unblock me every few weeks so she could look at my profile. I knew she was doing this because she used to do it with my aunt. So when I discovered my mother’s profile during a period where I was unblocked I couldn’t wait to block her to stop this addiction she had.

I know my mother still tries to find a way to get information about me. The amount of times I have had to tell my sister to not indulge with my mother when she asks questions about me is unreal. I think she finally understands now and has learnt to be very dismissive with my mother when I am bought up in conversation.

With all of this, I had a thought late last night. “She will find a way to stalk my social media accounts again” I have her blocked everywhere, but it’s not hard to create a new account and try and have a nose. I mean my bio on my Instagram account is a link to this blog. I wondered if I should remove it, but why should I hide? If she wants to obsess over me still then so be it. I will dedicate this post to you mother…

“Dear Mother,

Or should I say womb donor, as this is all I see you as now.

I tried for so many years to please you, to love you and to get you to love me back. All I have ever wanted was the love of a mother. However YOU didn’t want any of this. I blamed myself for the longest time; maybe if I had been a better daughter things would have been different? Things never would have been different though, as I have discovered you are unlovable! You say I am the one who has hated you for years, and that you have always known, yet what I think really happened here is that you taught me how to hate. I wouldn’t know what hate felt like without you in my life!

You will never see the error of your ways, you think you are perfect and that everyone else is the problem. Yet you are the problem. You are the one that people can’t stand to be around. No matter how many times you tried to tell me that I was ungrateful and selfish, I still had people around me to tell me otherwise. And quite frankly, I couldn’t care less what you think about me now, as your opinion is not one that I value. So, think what you want. At the end of the day we both know the truth.

You are a twisted, malicious, evil, pathetic excuse of a mother. You don’t even deserve the right to be called this. I  spent 8 years hating you with every ounce of my body, until 2 years ago when I realised that you are not worth poisoning my body for. You are nothing to me. I loved you and you broke that; way before I was even old enough to realise it. I was lucky enough to find the motherly love I had always desired in other people, you will never know what that feels like.

I did care once. I’m not a monster like you, however you torn me up inside and almost destroyed me and you failed because I came bouncing back, stronger than ever. You thought I would be weak without you, you thought I wouldn’t survive. Oh how wrong you were. 

I used to look at other people and wish I had a mother like theirs. Someone to hug me, tell me they loved me, be there to hold me when I felt like my world was crashing down. I grieved for all of what I didn’t have but my grief is over now. You are dead to me. I don’t hate you anymore. I feel nothing. 

Stood next to you in the supermarket (I know you think I didn’t see you) I felt nothing. You were just another stranger. I will continue to walk past you in the street as if you don’t exist, your future grandchildren will also walk past you in the street and won’t even know who you are. I will be sure to protect them from you!

All the mind games you tried to play for all these years, by dangling my baby brother in my face, have only made me stronger. You always used him as a weapon, but you have run out of ammo now. As I know when he is older he will come and find me. You cannot break me anymore. No matter what you try to do. I have become immune to you.

Go and cry and bad mouth me to anyone you have left to listen, I do not care. You bought this on yourself, through all the abuse I put up with for all these years. I know you won’t call it abuse, because you didn’t beat me. Let me rephrase that, you barely beat me.

You think I am a horrible person for treating you this way? After all that you have done for me? We have already established you are no mother of mine. I won’t wish you well, as I am not a liar. I hope you rot in eternal hell.

And just so you know, I’m doing SO good without you… 

Sincerely not yours.

K

 

 

Parentification

I was an only child for 8 years, and I knew I didn’t want any siblings. My mother used to look after my cousin Brent quite often. Brent was 3 years younger than me and my mother had always favoured him.

She was always so loving towards Brent. Hugs and kisses, the lot. A side I never saw from my mother, I’m not going to lie, I was jealous; so I wasn’t Brent’s biggest fan. There was one time Brent and I were eating scrambled egg when he threw up right onto his plate and all over the table; possibly even onto my plate too, everything looked like scrambled egg. I didn’t really want to eat my breakfast after this, not knowing if I would be eating vomit, but my mother forced me to stay there and eat my food while she cleaned Brent up. She didn’t even clean the vomit off the table.  So I had to sit there and smell it, while trying to keep my own breakfast down. Still to this day, I don’t particularly like scrambled egg; especially the gooey kind.

There was another time when Brent had stayed over and we had both slept in my mother’s bed. When I woke up Brent wasn’t in the bed and I was soaking wet. I went into the living room to find him and my mother looking at the snow out of the window. “Why am I all wet?” I asked. My mother looked at me and said “oh Brent wet the bed”  I stood there absolutely disgusted, my mother knew I was sleeping covered in urine and she just left me there.

Brent was always destroying my toys, whether it be by cutting the hair off my collection of My Little Ponies or ripping my books up. I was never allowed to be upset though. When he broke my Barbie house by sitting on it and making the whole thing collapse, I threw him out of my room and told him I hated him. My mother didn’t even ask what had happened, she sent me straight to bed with no dinner. If this was the way Brent was treated, I NEVER wanted brothers or sisters.

However the day I had always dreaded finally came and my mother announced she was having a baby. I cried and cried. I didn’t want to have to fight for her attention anymore than I already did.

Eventually my sister Kara arrived. She was so tiny, she smelt so new and fresh; I finally understood what people meant when they went on about that baby smell. She had a red baby grow on when I met her for the first time. I remember helping my mother bathe her in her little baby bath, the smell of Johnson’s baby products always reminds me of this day. I wanted to smell just like her and squeezed into her bath after she was finished.

My sister’s father wasn’t around much. So I used to help my mother a lot, sometimes she would even leave me alone with Kara while she popped to the shops. Kara would lie there asleep on the bed and I would have to sit and watch her. I would be sat there thinking about how much I didn’t like her, as since she came along I had to act as a parent rather than a sister. Perfecting how to change a nappy at the age of eight wasn’t something to class as an achievement. All I wanted to do was play with my Barbies.

One night when Brent and Laura; his little sister, were over to stay my mother called me out of bed, her and my step father were in her room with Kara and my mother said she had something to tell me. “You are going to have another brother or sister”. These words ripped through me, everything went quiet and I was screaming inside. I cried; more than I had when she told me about Kara. I told her I didn’t even want the sister I had let alone anymore. I was distraught, another baby that I would have to help my mother take care of, another baby that would take away any hope I had left of being a child.

In what seemed like no time at all my brother Kevin arrived. I don’t remember my first meeting with Kevin as well as I do Kara’s. There was 13 months between Kara and Kevin, so now at the age of eight; soon to be nine, I was a pro at looking after two babies. I was late for school every day; when I was attending that is.

I remember the routine like it was yesterday. My mother would wake us up; I would give the babies their bottles while my mother went for a shower. I would then have to change both babies’ nappies and get them dressed. All whilst sitting through the torture of ‘Milkshake’ a morning programme on Channel 5 that played baby programmes. By the time all of this was done my mother would be ready and I would then go off to have my breakfast and get myself ready for school.

I loved going to school at this time, it was a break away from playing mother to my siblings and I actually got to be a child for a while. My mother still had me off school a lot of the time though, one afternoon there was a phone call from her at school. The teacher took me to the phone and my mother said that she had told them I might have head lice because she needed to come and get me early. It was a complete lie and I didn’t want to leave, but she came anyway. She probably wanted to have a nap so needed me to watch the babies, this was something I was used to seeing as my mother loved an afternoon nap everyday.

As well as my morning routines with the babies, I also had to watch them when I got home from school. Kara was a handful and I disliked her because she was so naughty, she would do something wrong and I would be the one to get in trouble. After dinner it was bath time. I would have to bathe the babies and get them dressed for bed. My mother liked to have a soak in the evenings; so I would end up having to read bedtime stories and fight them to get into bed. After all of this I was exhausted. I don’t even remember doing homework, but then I was never at school to get any.

As I got older and Kara and Kevin started school, it was then my job to iron their school uniforms for them too. When Brent and Laura we over my mother always seemed go off the the supermarket quite late, so she would leave me at home to watch all four children; I couldn’t have been any older than 11 years old. I would have to keep Brent from making too much noise so that the neighbours would not realise we had been left alone. My mother would be gone for 3 hours minimum and this happened quite often.

Brent and I weren’t always on good terms either. My mother still favoured him and as he got wiser to it he would play on it; I don’t blame him to be honest, who doesn’t want to be the favourite. One day we were having our usual dramas when Brent pushed me into my wardrobe. I fell on my roller blade and really hurt my back. Brent and my mother watched on it hysterics whist I cried in agony, the more they laughed the more I built up with rage. I finally saw red and picked the roller blade up and threw it at Brent’s back. He fell to the floor and started screaming. My mother instantly lost it with me, she grabbed a hanger from my wardrobe and tried to hit me with it. I ran on to the top bunk of my bunk beds so that she couldn’t get me. “Oh, you’re brave enough to try and get away from me are you?” my mother smirked. She then sent Brent up the ladder of the bunk beds with the hanger and instructed him to beat me with it. I hated her, I wanted to grab the hanger off Brent and wack my mother as hard as I could. As Brent continued to beat me, my mother hurled abuse at me and stood there laughing. Brent thought it was great and my mother and him made a joke out of it, by asking me “how’s it hanging?”  Brent still asks me this to this day.

All I ever wanted to do when I was a child was to be a child. To go to school like the other normal children, to play with my toys, to play out with my friends, to watch cartoons. To just enjoy life with no worries.

Instead, I was constantly worrying about the babies jumping on the bed as they might fall off and hurt themselves. Worrying about Brent and Laura making too much noise just being kids, because we had been left alone. Worrying about getting the babies ready in time, to give myself enough time to get dressed so I wouldn’t be late for school.

All of these worries are not the worries a child should have. I shouldn’t have been unable to focus in classes, because I was exhausted from being a mother of two at 9 years old.

I just wish I knew what it was like to be a kid…

Uneducated…Me?

I’ve always struggled to focus in an academic environment and I never really understood why. Until about 3 years ago when I made a discovery that would change my outlook on my life forever…

It was post my Grandmother’s death and I was still entertaining my mother for the sake of seeing my younger brother. I hated the sight of her during this time. It was so hard to forget everything that had happened. Every time I saw her I would have visions of smashing her face against a brick wall. She was making me become as bitter as her. It was scary how much anger this woman made me feel.

Whenever anything would happen that could trigger an argument, I wrote it down. Waiting for the end of my sentence; this was how I referred to my relationship with my mother. Each day got harder and harder to pretend, but documenting everything to build my case against cutting ties from her helped a great amount.

My mother was housesitting for a friend of mine; I found this particularly weird. She had always kept my friends close to her, not my closest friends; as she knew she couldn’t put on a front with them, yet the friends that wouldn’t have known the full extent of my mother’s madness, she showed a great interest in them. Anyway, as she was not going to be home; which was a rare occasion, I decided I would stay over at my mother’s house so I could hang out with my sister.

It was nice to be able to talk about my mother without worrying if listening ears were close by. It was also nice to just spend time with my sister and not have to hide we had a relationship with each other. I had recently asked my mother for my birth certificate, yet she swore blind she did not have it and that she had already given it to me. I know for a fact I gave it to her when I moved house to keep it safe. As she was out of the house my sister and I went in search for it. We looked where all the other birth certificates and passports were kept. It wasn’t there; I remember thinking to myself “This psycho probably burnt it to pretend I don’t exist”.

During my search I came across my old school reports. “Let’s read these, this will be fun” I laughed to my sister. They were from years 1-5 of primary school. I started off reading them full of enthusiasm, but what I read next stopped me in my tracks. I started flipping through the papers in disbelief. My sister was confused and asked what was wrong. “It is a great shame your daughter is being deprived of the education to which she is entitled. Please think carefully about what you are doing to your daughter. She cannot repeat this time. Her future is in your hands” I read to my sister. “This b**ch never sent me to school” I felt all of the emotions I had been holding in towards my mother over the last few months exploding inside me. I felt sick. My average attendance for the school year was 33%. I stayed up all night reading all the reports over and over. Each year repeated my poor attendance. I just couldn’t comprehend why she would do this.

One of the reports mentioned a social worker. That’s when I remembered. There was one day I was on my way to school and my mother said to me “if the school ask you why you have a lot of time off school, you have to tell them it is because you are ill with your stomach aches. Otherwise they will take you away and you will never see your family again. You will have to live with a strange family and they will do horrible things to you.” I didn’t quite understand why she was telling me this and at this point in my life I honestly believed I was always ill. My mother had dragged me to the hospital on more than one occasion; I was constantly prodded and poked by doctors. They ran test after test, scan after scan. I even remember them saying to my mother “we really do not know what is wrong with her”. Now that I have discovered these reports I realised my mother had been fabricating the truth with the doctors for some reason.

When I got to school I was taken out of class and into a room with two ladies. They started asking me questions about my mother and they questioned how I feel when I am ill. I closed up instantly, due to what my mother had said to me in the morning I did not want to speak with these ladies. I cried and told them I wanted my mother. They had to call her and she came to collect me. She was irate when she picked me up, accusing the school of interrogating and frightening her “poor child”. I remember staying off for the rest of the week after that, I heard my mother on the phone to the school saying “she is too distressed and scared to come to school after yesterday”. Finding these school reports, I was hearing a different story.

The morning after my discovery, I woke up thinking it was all a dream; until I saw those green pieces of paper next to me. We were due to go to the house my mother was staying in as my sister was going to watch the dogs while my mother went out. How was I going to face this woman? I’ve lasted this long, it will be fine; I could feel the end of my sentence coming. I decided to have a shower at my friend’s house as my mother didn’t have a shower. When we arrived, I sat and had a conversation with my mother for a while; through gritted teeth of course. Before she left I asked her for a towel so I could have a shower. She came out with a kids Disney towel, which she held up while saying “sorry this is the only towel I could find, she doesn’t have any proper towels”. I told her it was fine and she hung it up in the bathroom for me.

I jumped in the shower and grabbed the towel as I got out and threw it around myself. The stench I was greeted by literally made me heave and I dropped the towel in disgust. It smelt like a wet dog that had dried and then had become wet again. I pinched a corner of the towel and picked it up to examine it, my mother had given me the dog’s towel. Even from a distance you could smell how bad it was. I jumped back in the shower and then shouted to my sister to bring me my younger brother’s towel.

It could have been an easy mistake, so I excused it and went into the bedroom to get dressed. As soon as I walked in I saw a huge pile of big, fluffy, clean towels and my mother’s pyjamas were folded up and sat on top of them all. She knew exactly what she had done! When she got back I imagined myself smashing her head against a brick wall again. I needed to shake out of it, but I also wanted to get her back for what she had done. I saw her lip gloss on the table; it was one with the little brush you use to apply it. I picked it up and called my dog over. I gave his teeth the best clean they have ever had with that lip gloss brush and placed it back into the container. When she came back into the room I asked her to try it on so I could see what the colour looked like. She put it on whilst I sat there feeling extremely satisfied with myself. It was probably quite a spiteful thing to do and I shouldn’t have sunk to her level, but surely it was better than smashing her head against a wall?

I went home that night and instantly looked up the details to contact social services; as they had been mentioned in my reports, I knew they would have a record on me. I also knew my rights to request information anyone holds on you. The next morning I received an email back from them to say they were dealing with my request and I would hear back from them within 21 working days. They were the longest 3 weeks of my life.

One day I came home and saw an extremely large envelope on the doormat. I picked it up wondering how the postman managed to squeeze it through the letterbox. I straight away knew what was inside. I ripped it open and stared at it in astonishment at how thick the file was. The file could just about close it had near 1000 pages in it; if not more. I started to read through it all; nothing prepared me for this.

My mother was countlessly not turning up to meetings with social services. She would ignore them when they were knocking at the door; this I remember, people were always at the door and my mother would tell me to be quiet and we would hide so they couldn’t see us through the windows. I read on and discovered that I was on the child protection registered for neglect! My mother was summoned to court; she didn’t attend though, so a warrant was put out for her arrest. She was prosecuted and fined £250. Despite this my mother still didn’t see the importance of sending me to school or to cooperate with social services. She said I wasn’t at school because I was ill; the school arranged four medical examinations for me; my mother did not take me to any of them. This went on for about 5 years; eventually social services were starting procedures for me to go into care. Only then did my mother start sending me to school.

I couldn’t believe that I was on the child protection register for neglect and that me going into care had been threatened on my mother so many times; yet she still did not care.

In my last year of primary school I now had good attendance; for the first time in my life. I hadn’t realised how much this had all affected me as an adult. Yet now I grasp it had more impact than I thought, I have never been able to engage well in large groups; when I went to high school I really struggled to get involved in class discussions. I’ve spent my whole adult years thinking I was shy; when really the isolation I was put through growing up made me become an introvert. I didn’t know how to get involved; I had spent my whole life not wanting to speak out because I was worried I was going to say something wrong and that people would think I was stupid.

Despite this though, I also feel extremely proud of myself. Having read some of my record and seeing that I was on average 3 years behind my English and Maths age, I still managed to end up tutoring 16-18 year olds. These kids hadn’t coped in mainstream school; some of them had extreme behavioural issues, some had given up on themselves and some were about to go to prison. Yet my uneducated self, tutored them in Maths and English and got them through their exams. This is something I will forever hold as my greatest achievement. And ever since I have never let anything stop me from achieving my goals…