I have NC for this purely because I don’t want this sorrowful crap attached to my main account where I talk about things that really matter. Like oven cleaner and parking diagrams.
This is a story for those that enjoy a bit of misery fiction. (Angela’s Ashes anyone?) Except, it isn’t fiction. It isn’t even dramatised. It is my life. But read on if you like a bit of that, and if you’d like to see me rises from the ashes, like a mothertrucking phoenix!! 🔥
I am low contact with my family. Why am I not no contact? I don’t know. It’s not always so easy and somewhere deep down I’m still the 9 year old girl that just wants to be loved by the people that made her.
I was raised by my mother and her second husband whom I have always considered to be my dad. My biological father hasn’t met me since I was a baby. I don’t know if we left him or he left us. The story is the latter but my mother is a compulsive liar.
Most of my own “backstory” is lies. For years, even my own name was a lie. My mother will lie and lie to protect her own image. I have never known up from down with her, and in my teens I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what was true.
It was in my twenties that I stopped trying and just made a choice to care less.
I thought it was about time that my self image stopped being so intrinsically linked to hers.
We lived (from age 4) in a large, beautiful, period property in a good area. It was a gift to my mother from her own parents who were wealthy, withdrawn and cold themselves.
My childhood was abusive. I was an inconvenience and would be locked in my room for hours and hours with no access to water or to a toilet. I would be punished if I urinated anywhere else. (Don’t ask. I still feel humiliated by the lengths I went to to relieve myself and then hide the evidence)
I do have siblings who are not halflings like me, but are biologically related to both of my parents. They were treated like royalty. I would help to care for them. From the age of 9 I would routinely be left home alone with them whilst they were infants; both in the day time, whilst my parents worked and at night when they went out with friends.
I loved my siblings dearly and showed them a lot of affection.
I also have an older sibling, my mother’s first born, whom she abandoned into care, and my only “full” biological sibling. I have met them a few times but we have no relationship. They are resentful of me and I feel guilty for them.
At 16 I got my first job whilst studying for my A levels. My parents charged me rent which swallowed most of what I earned but I saved the rest.
I left home a few days after my 18th birthday and moved 110 miles away. My dad gave me a lift but he charged me for the petrol. I would call home occasionally and would be met with a cold response.
I got a degree and started a graduate placement which was just 20 miles from where I grew up. So I moved back to the area and rented a small flat.
My flat was so small that I could touch both walls of my living room at once. I couldn’t afford a telly or a microwave for the first year.
I lived there for 2 years and counted the pennies meticulously. I saved every spare bit of money I had to afford driving lessons and, eventually, my first car. It took me a long time to learn because I could only afford an hour a week and I was an anxious driver. I was on £18,000 per year.
Now 23, I fell in “love” and got married to a man that didn’t treat me well. He didn’t ever hurt me but he used me. Cheated, stole from me and eventually left me. I was heartbroken and financially ruined by him.
I started again at 28. By now I had moved jobs and was earning a solid £30,000. I had to commute a long way for work and it was relentless but worth it. I bought a little house. I still saved everything I didn’t spend.
Soon after I met my now- husband. I truly fell in love this time.
Eventually I sold my little house and he sold his little house and together we bought a “big” house. (It’s not very big. 😅)
Now I’m 35 and we live in our gorgeous house which is filled to the brim with children, cats, laughter and Monster Munch 🤤. My salary is a comfortable £40,000. It could be higher but I took some stoppage for kids. My husband earns £50,000.
This is in no way a humble brag. This is a full brag - I have a wonderful family and a good life and when I stop to really think about it, it moves me to tears.
My parents are still vile. Their vileness has climbed to new heights.
They perceive that I have succeeded them at the Game of Life, and they’re angry at me for it.
Although I am pleased with my salary and my home, it would be wrong to say I am more comfortable than them. They were gifted a house (with no mortgage) and they are much older than me.
Not only is their jealousy a nasty thing to behold, but it’s also baseless.
For the first time, we invited them to spend Christmas with us and they did, partially. But they left early to spend the rest with my sibling who is their golden child.
They asked what they could bring and I suggested perhaps some nice beer, as I hadn’t bought much proper beer and one of my (other) siblings enjoys craft beer very much.
They arrived with 6 cans of ordinary Budweiser. I put them in the fridge and didn’t mention it.
They availed themselves of our hospitality and in exchange brought us small token gifts. Nothing thoughtful. The sort of tat you would give in a secret Santa.
My children also received token £10 gifts and then had to watch my nephew receive an enormous present that must have cost hundreds of pounds.
We thanked them for what we had received and I didn’t mention it.
However, my parents wanted me to mention it. And when I didn’t… they brought it up themselves!
They explained that as I am now a “kept woman”, because I’ve “married into money”, they will be focusing their efforts on my siblings instead.
They went on to say that they feel they are “done” with me, because I have “made it” and now they will concentrate on helping my siblings achieve the same.
They finished with “we don’t see why we should have to spend our money on your family of millionaires”
Ouch. Merry Christmas you filthy animals.
I didn’t cry or squawk. I just acknowledged what they had said by reiterating my thanks for our gifts. They left soon after. (Then I cried)
Anyway, I have now heard through the family grapevine that I am apparently not in their will. And haven’t been for some time.
I don’t want their horrible money but this whole thing especially sticks in my craw, as I am the named executor of their estate! (CF or what?) When I agreed to this, little did I know I would be administering a will from which I have been completely excluded. 🤯 (I know I can refuse to do this when they die.)
Anyway, that’s my story. And finally I am considering cutting them out completely. Finally. It won’t be a big shift physically, I only see them 2 or 3 times a year. But it’s obviously a hugely emotional thing to do; to completely cut off one’s own parents.
Any words of encouragement would be greatly appreciated. Please no nasties. I know I sound upbeat but I feel pretty low about all of this.
Thanks for listening.