January 24th 2024.
Growing up, I always knew that my relationship with my mother was different from what most people would consider "normal". I was constantly reminded that she didn't actually want to have kids and that I was only conceived because she had married my dad. She made it clear that she saw me as a burden and not as a precious child to be cherished. When my parents split up, she moved us across the country away from my dad, and it became just me and her. My dad agreed that this was for the best and went on to start a new family, so we weren't really in touch anymore.
Throughout my childhood, I have very few fond memories of my mother. The occasional bike rides and making mince pies at Christmas were rare moments, and we hardly ever spent time alone together. I was never allowed to express my emotions or fears, and instead, I was called names like lazy and pathetic. I was often given the silent treatment as a form of punishment. Whenever I tried to explain to my mother how her behavior made me feel, she would deny it all and dismiss my feelings.
My grandparents, who were my mom's parents, would pick me up every Thursday and I would stay with them until Sunday. This meant that I missed a lot of school, but my mom was content with her child-free weekends, going out with friends and going on dates. As I got older, she became known as the "fun mom" among my friends because she let us drink alcohol at home. However, she eventually stopped allowing me to have friends over or go to their houses because it would inconvenience her.
When I went to university, I started talking to other students and realized that my relationship with my mother was not the same as other girls my age. They had grown into friendships with their mothers and could rely on them for support. But every time I tried to talk to my mom about our relationship, she would deny everything and make excuses. I craved a loving and supportive mother, but instead, I was left feeling worthless.
Things reached a breaking point four years ago when my mom laughed and called me names during a conversation. I couldn't take it anymore and decided to stop speaking to her. It may seem drastic, but it was the best decision for my own well-being. I still see my grandparents, but I have to coordinate visits to avoid my mother. And since I stopped talking to her, she has made no effort to reach out to me, which speaks volumes about her true feelings.
It's hard for people to understand why I would cut a parent out of my life, especially if they had a happy and loving childhood. But just because I don't speak to my mom doesn't mean I don't care. It's a decision I had to make for my own mental health, and I grieve for the mother I never had every day. I still long for her comfort, but I've come to realize that she was never capable of providing it. It's a sad reality, but one that I have come to accept.
In our society, there is often stigma and shame around estrangement from family members. But I want to break the silence and share my story, to let others who may be going through a similar situation know that they are not alone. Estrangement is not a one-size-fits-all situation, and every family dynamic is different. I hope that by speaking out, I can give a voice to others who have experienced estrangement and help break the stigma surrounding it.
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