Today I want to share my story with you. I became a mum at quite a young agea classic case of mistakes and a distinct lack of support. Now my daughter is three, and although finding opportunities has been anything but a picnic, Ive managed to muddle through. There are days when it all feels a bit much, since the entire responsibility for her well-being rests entirely on my shoulders. Her dad, I should mention, was about as useful as a chocolate teapot.
Im writing this with a head full of worries, as lately everything seems even more tangled than usual, and Im at a bit of a loss as to how to carry on. Im emotionally knackered. Occasionally my motivation disappears faster than a plate of biscuits at a family gathering, but my daughter keeps me going. I want to give her the love I never received from my own parents.
My father vanished into thin air before Id even left the hospital. Mum never exactly showered me with affectionat least, none that sticks in my memory. She always put her partners and their children ahead of me. If I needed new clothes or shoes, it was down to me to figure out how to get them, because asking her simply wasnt on the cards. Shed declare she had no money, but always managed to scrape together enough for birthday gifts for her partners children. When my birthday rolled round, she often forgot altogether.
I watched her spoil them, while I kept quiet; complaining only won me the title of ungrateful brat. I remember my school shoes falling apart after wearing them two years straight. Id try and stick them together so no one would notice. Mum saw, but said nothing. Just three days later, she bought her partners daughter shiny new shoes simply because the old pair werent her style.
I lost count of the nights I went to bed crying, wondering why my mum couldnt want me like she wanted them. At some point, it dawned on me that she saw me as a burden, and I decided to move out. She didnt care. She didnt even try to find me. I got on with things myselfit was tough, skint, and not at all glamorous, but I stuck at it.
Four or five years down the line, I heard her partner had legged it with a younger woman, and his children went to live with their actual mum. So my mother was left all on her own. I felt a pang of sadness for her, but honestly, I had no idea what I could do about it.
I do sometimes think of reaching out to her, just to see how shes getting on. But Im scared shell still look at me with that same coldness from before. Maybe its for the best we stay as we arenot knowing a thing about each other. What do you lot think?
