The early years - A letter for my mother.
When I started writing this I was not sure whether I would post it or not. Let’s see if it makes it onto the page so all can see the dirty laundry i’m airing in public. I know that’s how some may see it but for me it is cathartic to share my journey and celebrate who I have become without my mothers help and support.
I think you can already see the gist here, no she wasn’t the supportive and caring mother one would hope for growing up. I was born a twin, a twin brother who won’t be named here. I call him M for the purpose of this and I call mother just that, mother, no capital letter just m.
Born to a mother who was 21 at the time, living and married to my father ( he has a post coming too). We lived in a 3 bed home in a Norfolk town in the UK. When we were approx aged 5yrs of age my parents finally separated after years of arguments and fists going through doors. She accused him of cheating, throwing food at him, screaming he had not done this that and whatever else she expected of him. I remember her throwing a curry at him when he said something about it not being very spicy. It went everywhere.
Although she accused him of cheating my dad arrived home to see J in the house, he was supposed to be a friend of my dads but what was he doing there with my mum and us children. They say children don’t remember , but oh we do. The fight that followed my dad arriving home resulted in J hand being broken and holes in walls and doors.
Was he as bad as she made out, who knows as he was never around, but I do know he did cheat and couldn’t keep it in his pants. That I didn’t find out until much later. However it appears she was having her own affair with J who she got with again when we were in our teens and learnt he was married. I suppose you could say Karma struck there.
Anyhow at the age of 5 ish my mother suffered from poor mental health and was sectioned under the mental health act. I am uncertain how long she remained in hospital for but I do remember going to our nan and grandads to live. I loved that time and my grandparents and part of me never wanted to return to her care. But we did .
I remember being smacked by you so hard mother that my bottom turned black. You don’t remember, well I do and when I showed my nan she was not happy with you and threatened to report you to social care. I wish she had to be honest. Although you didn’t hit me like that again, it didn’t stop the slaps and things being taken from me, name calling and just bitterness from you.
You were a very bitter and judgemental person, who had an opinion on everything. Extremely racist, homophobic and a nasty person to be around. I recall you telling me that you only ever wanted a boy and that’s why you let my dad name me, you never wanted a girl you said and would say it often in arguments. Well hey guess what mother, your wish came true I Non Binary !! Wonder how that would go down if you knew eh, perhaps better than when your learnt I was gay, or probably not.
So we lived with mother, in a new home, not far from my grandparents and school. We had amazing neighbours and I became close friends with their children and my neighbours sister , K. K remains my best friend today and my strongest ally.
Knowing you are not really wanted by a parent is hard. You know she will take your brothers side in arguments and nothing will ever be good enough. M was the golden boy, could do no wrong. He was in top set for everything and I was just the stupid sister in the bottom set for English and told I was stupid by so many. Being diagnosed with dyslexia at the age of 40 made huge sense to me , but I was just told I was thick and had no focus and should sit still and learn. At 51 I have been diagnosed with ADHD, so telling me to sit still, focus and learn were not things that were easy for me. Would you have been different if I was diagnosed earlier, I don’t think you would. It would have been another thing you would have blamed our father for as when things were not right it was always his fault as you were perfect , right?
As I shared in my earlier post growing up and developing was tough. I asked the questions at the age of 8 of why I was the girl and why M couldn’t be the boy so many times, I hated being the girl of the twins. I was mortified when I could no longer hide my breasts, either from hunching or wearing baggy tops.
In 1980 , I was 7, the first aids advert was seen on tv. The tombstone and the hate geared towards the gay community. This is the first time I heard the vile hate come from your mouth mother. I knew from that point on I could not talk about my different feelings as you would never understand.
When my periods started aged 12 my brother laughed, I so remember his laugh and my mother gave me a sanitary towel and said ‘ oh you're alright, you’ll get used to it’. The pain and blood was severe however I was told to get on with it so I did. I used sport as a way of managing my feelings about myself and excelled in sport , being in every team you could be in. I could wear sports clothes that hid much of my development and wear sports bras the held them in more. Sport was my happy place where if I got hit with a hockey stick that was ok, the pain helped me manage my mental pain and enjoy the sports more. I got a split lip bad in football, broken nose , bashed knees black eyes , but it was ok , I didn’t appear to feel the pain. Sport also helped me stay out of the home most evenings after school and be away from them both. I felt like an outsider in my own home and felt only accepted at my grandparents as me.
I would go most weekends to see my grandparents and be mostly on the allotment or in the garden with my grandad. I loved that man so much. We cycled around the county and would go fishing together, he was my best friend growing up and never called me by my birth name but always Klondike, maybe he knew I wasn’t the person others thought I was, maybe he knew, maybe he didn’t, but I felt safe with him. He got be drunk at the Labour club at the age of 12, we had cider shandy at weekends that my nan would give me whilst we watched wrestling or a game show. He didn’t realise it was shandy and bought me a pint of woodpecker cider. We played pool and walked home after our drinks. I say walk , I stumbled and when my nan gave me my roast dinner and I spilt it she knew I was drunk and gave my grandad hell. It makes me smile remembering this event as it was so innocent. I wasn’t allowed to drink again, however I liked the feeling and now had a taste for it for sure.
I remember a small group of friends I would hang out with. I started smoking at 15 , not good for a sporty person, but wanted to fit in. I had a variety of groups I would hang with. Not many I got close to formed lasting friendships. Actually only 2 friendships from my childhood remain. I became aware of my attraction to girls and used to call my brother gay to manage my feelings. He was very effeminate and would always be surrounded by girls, where as I would play football at free time and hang out with the ‘tough crowd’, trying to find my place that I felt attuned to, but never actually finding it.
I started going to pubs at 16 with older friends I had made that had now left school. You had no idea mother where I was or what I was doing, or did you actually care? I think the only time I saw emotion from you was when I was arrested for drinking and found on the school grounds with 3 others and you had to come to the police station to collect me. I don’t think it was out of concern for me but for bringing the police to your home. Oh the shame, you didn’t let me live that down.
I was working at the local supermarket so earning money, which you always asked for, however never asked my brother although he eared far more than me. When I asked why you didn’t ask him you said he needed it. Was this payback for getting arrested?
Although I always liked girls I could not say and continued to hide my feelings. I got into a relationship with a 22 year old I worked with , he was very good friends with a girl I liked who was the same age as me 17. She would spend time at his and to be with her I hooked up with him.
My mother adored that man, what I had no idea about was that you didn’t just think he was good for me , but you wanted him for yourself didn’t you. I learnt that you had a sexual relationship with him, whilst he was with me. I didn’t find out until after a few moths after our relationship was over, but I was sickened to the core. You wrote letters to him and I saw copies of letters both ways discussing the sex you had and how you felt about him. Not only did you do this to your daughter, you were old enough to be his mother. You had no shame and never spoke with me about him. I did find it odd when I would turn up home early from work and he was there and never asked what he was doing as you would come up with some reason that you were helping i’m or he you. I now know how you were helping one another and it’s disgusting you could have done this. I kept my knowledge to myself, worked away during the week as a children’s nanny so you were free to do as you wished.
I was 18 and a children’s nanny. I stayed with the same family for nearly 3 years. The mother was a police officer and father a company director. I cared for 3 boys. I fancied the hell out of my female boss. Her beautiful brown eyes and northern twang. Being around her is what kept me in the job for so long as her oldest son was difficult to manage and her husband an odd character.
You were never told this mother, but one evening, whilst I was house sitting for the family someone I knew from the pub came over to see me. We were friends, or so I thought. He tried it on, I said no, he continued and I will leave you to think what happened next. Being raped changed me more than I realised at the time. I became more shut off from people and less trusting. Although less trusting, I started speaking with a lesbian social group in Cambridge and started to explore my sexuality further. However during this time I also started dating a man, yes I was not in a good place. I had frequent sex with him and was drinking a lot. I quit my job and worked in a supermarket. I was now 21.
One day I could hide it no longer , I dumped the boyfriend, he had a beautiful motorbike and dog , I loved wearing my leathers and helmet, I felt powerful in them. However I could not continue this farce any longer. I dumped him and came out as gay. This is when you kicked me out mother.
So the questions I ask you mother, do you actually care, did you care, did I ever matter. I won’t ever get the answers , and I think I already know them. I no longer have a mother in my life I would call Mother . I have chosen family who are the most supportive people in my life whom I love dearly.
If you like what you are reading please consider donating to my go fund me page for top surgery.
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