To the outside world, I had the perfect childhood. A pony to ride when I wanted to (even though he wasn't mine), holidays abroad every year, grammar school education, parents with their own business....the list goes on. I thought it was a normal way to live until, that is, I had my own children. I'm not looking for sympathy and I'm sure many of you have been through much, much worse. I'm not trying to belittle that, just put down in words what has been going around my head for years.
Smacks were a regular occurence in our house...smacks with hairbrushes, smacks with wooden spoons, smacks with shoes...whatever was to hand. I'm not saying I was the perfect child...far from it. I used to pinch money from my mum's purse and even stole spirits from the bar (we lived in a pub). I actually only stole the drink once...and got caught! Mum took me to the police station to teach me a lesson. I didn't do it again. My parents never sat us down to talk about things. You just did things, no questions asked or you got smacked! I remember taking money to buy myself some ice skates...I used to go skating at least once a week but she wouldn't buy me skates...not even for a birthday or Christmas. She DID buy me riding gear...stuff that I didn't need because at the time I wasn't going to shows. I never could get my head round being bought things I didn't want or need but thought that was the whole idea of Christmas...you just got what you were given regardless of what you 'asked Father Christmas for' and yes, I do know that makes me sound like an ungrateful brat.
Let's go back a bit further. My mum was a single parent. I have vague recollections of a member of my biological dad's family looking after me when I was little but no memories of him. No biggy as I wouldn't know him if I fell over him. Anyway, she eventually met my (now) dad and sometime between then and my brother being born they got married. I wasn't involved, they just went to the registry office and that was that. I always had the feeling I was a disappointment to my parents. They would buy me chemistry sets and microscopes...I had no interest in science whatsoever. The things I actually wanted for Christmas, my grandparents would buy for me. In my last year of primary school, I lost a brother at 4 months. I have no idea what was wrong with him as it wasn't talked about. My mother was later to tell me I should have given her more support. I was 11 and didn't know what was going on. How could I support her? I was 11 years old!
I already had one brother by this time, he used to come everywhere with me but as soon as he was old enough he was packed off to the nearby boarding school. I had no idea at the time if this was good or bad. I just accepted it. Fast forward to secondary school years. Everything wth my parents was about appearances. I managed to pass my 11+ exam to get into grammar school and that's when it all went downhill. From being extremely clever at primary school, I was just one of many at secondary school and hated the subjects we had to learn. Latin and classical studies...why? I had no idea what I wanted to do when I left school but knew that I hated school.
Of course going through my teenage years, I was very conscious of how I looked. All my friends were getting the latest haircuts. I wasn't even allowed to have a fringe! It's only looking back now I find that really controlling behaviour.
If I wanted to try a new hobby, I wasn't allowed. I was allowed to have squash lessons but that was because it was considered a 'proper sport'. I didn't like it but because it was something she agreed with, she bought me the full kit, but not what I liked...what she liked. Because of this, my children were allowed to try anything they liked, even if they only went once! At least they could never say we wouldn't let them try. I was really pleased when my daughter wanted to learn to horse ride as that became something we could all do together, but I digress.
I just wanted to be out riding. I went to my first horse show and came home with a 4th place and a special rosette. When my mum asked me what the special rosette was for (I'd missed out an obstacle in the Handy Pony and the rules were you turned a circle and tried again), I was laughed at and asked why I'd got a rosette for doing something wrong? No pride that I'd got the rosettes and she took the shine off the 4th place because all she could focus on was me getting a rosette for doing something wrong. I never went to another show. Needless to say, the reports were bad...and then the threats started. It wasn't that I couldn't do the work, I just didn't like it and so couldn't be bothered. No, it's not a good attitude but I truly hated school. One Christmas we'd gone to church and some of the girls decided they would change the words to a carol. I was sitting near them and because of this I got blamed for it and a letter sent home. Despite protestations and the girls responsible telling the teacher it wasn't me, that didn't matter. Why would my parents believe me over a teacher? My parents never believed me when things went wrong and I tried to protest my innocence. More memories of school concerts/plays/sports days made me realise that my parents never attended, not once! I guess they would say it was because they had the pub and couldn't leave it but for a couple of hours every now and then???
I remember going for an eye test and being told I was short sighted and had to wear glasses. Now, you wouldn't think this would be a major issue, but the first words out of my mother's mouth were, "As if you're not plain enough." Bear in mind this was 40 years ago, I can remember her saying them as plain as day.
I used to sneak out of the house via the drainpipe outside the bathroom. My mother would look out of the lounge window to see if I was with my friends and if she saw me, would drag me back into the house by my hair. She was stopped once by a social worker who said she couldn't treat me that way. She went ape shit and said that I was out of control and he could deal with me. I don't remember anything more happening after that.
Eventually, I left home at 17, with very little and never went back. To this day I don't regret leaving. There was a time when I asked to go back home but was told I couldn't so that was that. When I was 23, I met my first husband. Two years later we got engaged and a week after that found out my first child was on the way. When I told my mum, the first thing she said to me was, "Can't you get rid of it?" I've never forgiven her for that and I never will. Bear in mind she was a single mother, I wouldn't be! We met up a few months later to discuss wedding plans and as always, a row started. I can't remember much about it or why it started...all I remember is her telling me she was 'fond of me'!
When I changed my address, my medical cards would always come back to me with extra initials in my name. As far as I knew I didn't have any middle names. When I asked her about this it started another row...my real father was a drunk and a gambler...and so on.
A few years after my daughter was born, I had a miscarriage. I was lucky enough to go on and carry another baby to full term and volunteered as a counsellor for the Miscarriage Association. During this time we were asked to sell raffle tickets to raise funds for the organisation. I asked my mum if she would like to buy some, but all I got back was, "Where was the help when I had a miscarriage?" I didn't even know she'd had one. How could I help? Where did she look for help? How was this my fault?
I even remember a time where there were some charity badges for sale. There were different designs so I bought a couple of different ones...her words to me? She said I was showing off!
Time rolled on, we seemed to get on better. She would look after the children for me now and then, but then I left my husband and she kicked off again. "Don't you think there are times when I wanted to leave?" Well frankly, if my husband had pushed me through a glass window, I would have done.
Apparently I'd only had a tattoo of a unicorn because I frequented the Unicorn pub in town that was full of bikers. Really? I didn't know that, and I've never been in there.
Then she started asking my daughter questions about me. If there's one thing I hate it's people asking others questions about me. If you want to know, ask me! This is just about where it ends as my parents haven't spoken to me in 23 years since I left my husband. It doesn't bother me. Life's been a struggle but I've managed without them and now my children have turned their backs on her because they're sick of her attitude.
She refused to go to my daughter's 21st birthday because she knew I'd be there. She didn't send a card or a present...nothing. She missed out on my daughter's engagement party and wedding. How awful! She's brought it on herself though.
She didn't even contact me to let me know my grandmother had died a couple of years ago. How spiteful is that? My brother and his family are the Golden Family and can do no wrong....nothing has changed there then. I have 2 nieces I have never met and despite trying to make contact with everyone again, they didn't reply so that's it now.
People say I should make things up with her before it's too late but it's already too late. I don't hate her. I have no feelings for her. She's dead to me, she doesn't exist.
No comments:
Post a Comment