She told me my father didn’t love me enough to stay.
My mother abused the very part of me that was my father, and he presumed me to be my mother, I was disliked immensely by both parents till the day they died
My father left one day, and that made sense to me. If I had been married to her I would have chosen to escape too. I wasn’t angry with him for that, I was shocked he left me behind. He knew her? Or didn’t he? I will never know how little my father was aware of how utterly dangerous my mother was to my health. When I say health, I am talking about the entire run-of-the-mill. The immune system, I was the sick child. Bones, are always breaking something. Allergies, reactions, and considered the overly sensitive child, scared of my own shadow. I believed I was left behind by an alien nation who would one day rescue me. The imaginary friend who should have been a safe place, now I am beginning to think the house was haunted by the previous owner who had died falling down the stairs. Maybe he was there to keep me company as we were both tortured souls? How old was I? I was 7.
I spent my younger years plotting my escape, thinking that one day I would grab a bag and leave and never return home. Inspired by literature to hitchhike the world
Ask anyone from an abusive background, one of neglect or one of abandonment. It doesn’t make sense, but we go back in the hope that our story is a Hollywood dream and they say sorry and switch roles overnight and become good people. My mother did not. She upped her game of abusive comments, implanting the noise that I was my father’s daughter which translated to I was a piece of shit. And because I was a piece of shit, I hid myself from my father in his company and avoided (but failed) disappointing him. Disappointing him and being told off was affirmation that I was a piece of shit and absolutely not worthy of being seen. So I hid, hid myself from myself and avoided looking in the mirror. That’s another issue entirely that took 35 years to fix.
You are your father’s daughter, ergo, you are a bad person and not good enough, and basically not good for anything. Obviously, that’s why my sense of self is distorted. It was never formed.
My father never negated her awful comments, he added to them by ignoring or demeaning my needs and dreams.
My father must have known she would torture me, and blame me for his not staying.
He obviously didn’t love you enough to stay was the first thing she said the morning after he left.
Who says that? But that would have been okay had he behaved differently. Had he held me close and told me he loved me and would still be there for me. Quite possibly, I would be a very different person today just from having another voice in my head saying ‘you can and you should‘ rather than ‘you should give up and give in.’
Had my father just shown up! Why didn’t he show up? I can only speculate because he died a few years ago which kick-started my healing at the age of 60. You are never too old to heal. I think he fell for his mistress, moved in with her family and couldn’t cope with my mother and - yeah, you know the bullshit story we make up for people being assholes. He didn’t turn up because he didn’t. Fact. He turned up as the aggressor, the director of my educational choices, activities, my dating, my curfew, my taste buds.
I was caught between the fat and frying pan scenario and it fucked me sideways. I do not recall having a safe space at home, my safe space was school and books. I lost myself in books, fantasy after fantasy. The teachers had no idea what my home life was like, and I didn’t think to share. I was told off non-stop for not doing better, on homework, and projects- why didn’t your mum help you? Just get your dad to help you with your lines for the play. Innocent comments that re-enforced I had a dysfunctional childhood. I wish it had been ‘Do you have someone to help you? Would you like to stay after school or come in earlier ?’ Back then everyone lived in white picket fence lies and sucked it up for the sake of the children.
My mother abused the very part of me that was my father, and he presumed me to be my mother. I was disliked immensely by both parents till the day they died.
The damage that caused me is unfathomable. Do I like myself? Hmm. Until recently I neither liked nor disliked myself, I had ceased to exist so long ago.
I left home, then I lost my job, I came back. I got kicked out, and I sofa surfed at friends. I left the country. I found out I was scared of my own shadow, scared I was going to be raped and left in a ditch. I came back. My world was the art of war, I was my own enemy and I knew the games to play with my mind. After all, she taught me everything I know.
"Life is hard kid." You have no idea how hard when you are told daily you are worthless.
I was good at work, and every time I wanted to make a move or build a company her voice would claw its way back into my conscious mind and assure me I was delusional. Instead, I would ruin my progress and give up on a dream. I have learnt to thank that voice for the opinion, consider the valid points, and make decisions that are now thought out.
Success has become waking up and not self-sabotaging. keeping on track, laughing at the tirade of self-abuse comments that swirl around my mind.
The best bit about becoming an orphan at 60 is that it forced me to start doing some work on myself without them putting me down or belittling my experience of them. I got to feel. I mean roar, sob, shake, vomit, sleep for days, I journaled the crap out of my life and I wrote them letters, I burnt the letters, I ranted and I walked for miles. It was almost Forest Gump-like. I got to do it without extra judgment, or being told I was being silly and sensitive. I forgot to mention I am an only child with step-siblings. We don’t talk, haven’t for years, but they did better than me- they got drunk and did drugs and got help earlier in life. They caused a fuss that had to be dealt with. They were seen way too much. I shrunk and blended into the background to avoid being seen.
The depth of my healing got me to the point where the anger I held for my father got to rear its crazy head and I could no longer suppress the pain and anguish he had caused me. He harmed me not by leaving, not the visits back and forth, but every single day he neglected and abandoned me over and over again.
He was exactly as my mother said, he was a piece of shit, but she didn’t need to take that out on me.
He never called during the week to see how I was, and on the weekend we ran around after her children and her family lunch. I was a constant unwanted guest who had to abide by his rules, her rules and her children wishing I would ‘just piss off.’
I never got married, and I don’t have children. My dysfunctional heritage ends with me. Some would say I was being melodramatic, others would pity me and wish me a different experience. Meanwhile, I hear stories like mine all the time.
If this is you now, or you are thinking about divorce, I am happy you are reading my story. I don’t get why people have kids if they are going to be neglectful and cruel to their children when the marriage falls apart. When you leave your partner or spouse, you also leave your children. It doesn't mean you should abandon them entirely. You are splitting them down the middle.
Hating your ex and having a dysfunctional relationship has nothing to do with your children.
It is not their fault and you should show them that even though you left, you will still turn up and love them. They should be wrapped up in even more love and consideration. It should NOT have to be that hard to turn up beyond the legal arrangements.
I haven’t mentioned my relationship with my step-mother on purpose, She was a unique nasty character. Many children blame their step-parents for their parents not being there for them, but I don’t believe that anymore. Yes, they influence, but ultimately it's the parent's choice to stay with that person and to treat you badly.
You may be 17 or 40 years old, but the child remains the child regardless. Society expects children to maintain contact with their parents, and accept the abuse and the lack of love. It's not OK and it's not fair. You have to heal yourself and athey won't change unless they want to. It happens, but don't hold your breath.
I wish I had known I needed to invest in deep therapy and go no contact for a while to preserve myself, but as you read, I never had a sense of self. I avoided love and a family and had nobody to show me different.
The Bible says we need to honour our parents, it does not say we have to love them.
If you would like to share your story or you are a professional who wants to share some insights, please email me at contact@angryexwife.com.
