Today’s story is slightly different in that it is more of a tale of lost childhood rather than grief.  For a mother to not seem to have the nurturing, warm characteristics many take for granted in a parent is hard to deal with, often with powerful feelings that are not dealt with until adulthood or you yourself become a parent.  Our author today describes a childhood of isolation and fear but her story ends on a very positive note having created herself a loving family and cut ties to those who have held her back.  I wish our author all the very best and may she continue to have a positive, happy life with her husband and children. xxx



From the age of 3/4 I didn’t have a childhood, my parents split up and there was a lot of bitterness on my mothers part.

I have decided she must have a mental illness of some sort as it’s the only way I understand her behaviour, from the moment she left my father everything was my fault, if I asked for anything I was selfish, if I asked a question I was stupid, if I mentioned my father at all it meant I loved him more than her & was evil.  When I was seven she decided to remove me from school and home-educate.  As she didn’t allow me to join any clubs it meant I had no friends apart from my older brother who was 9 years older, I used to spend hours in my room just with my old bears and dolls though I had to keep them out of sight because if I did something wrong my mother would grab any toy near me and throw it in the bin or fire.  I did have a happy few months when she dumped us at my grandparents whilst she moved north to look for work, she never wanted to speak to me on the phone & it was only when grandad mentioned going to see if he could get benefits for me that she suddenly wanted me back.  Then the custody battles got worse and she told me I had to say certain thing about my father that I the time I didn’t really understand, I will regret until the day I die that he passed away before I was brave enough to trace him and tell him how sorry I am.  My brother had leave home when I was nine as she was physically violent to him.

I endured 10 more years before finally running away from home after meeting my husband, two things always amaze me : whenever the local authorities got suspicious my mother was always able to talk her way out of trouble, the other is when I try to explain to folk why I don’t have much contact with her I always get the same response “but she’s your mum” as if that title automatically gives you the right of forgiveness for everything.

I’ve been with my husband for 18 years and married for nearly 15 , we have three beautiful sons who I probably spoil far too much.  The last time I spoke to my mother was in our local town a few months ago but she refused to even look at her youngest two grandsons or speak to them so I decided to be done with feeling guilty since then.

The photo’s I have added to my story are ones with meaning for me.  The first is my childhood bear; my brother used to throw him about in a ift of rage as a child but always found him and patched him up. The other is the beautiful area I now call home. xxx


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