Hi, I have mental health problems and trying to work out if it’s connected to the past. I’m also NC with my mother and trying to work out if I am being reasonable to maintain NC as about to have my first baby.
My parents separated shortly after I was born. My birth father was in and out of my life. He had a problem with drugs and passed away when I was a teenager from an overdose.
My mother met Pete was I was very young and they had another child. My mother had mental health problems and this interfered with her ability to care for us. I have memories of her being bed ridden. Pete would go out to work but would leave a bag of food by the bed so she could make us sandwiches when he was away. My mother would set no go zones within the house due to her anxiety. I remember not being allowed to enter the kitchen and I believed something terrible would happen if I did. At one point, they had an argument and Pete walked out. I don’t remember how long he was gone but I do remember not being able to enter the bathroom. My mother would put a nappy on the floor, to stand over and urinate on. This is what we did whilst we could not use the bathroom.
I was brought up believing Pete was my father as my actual birth father was out of the picture so much. Pete had another daughter, Mary, from a previous relationship. One day we were playing in the bedroom and Mary told me that Pete wasn’t my father, and that my actual father was called Mike. I think I was about six so I was naturally confused and later confronted my mother about this, and she confirmed it was true. I don’t know when but Pete eventually adopted me and became my legal guardian. My mother and Pete had an unstable relationship and separated not long after the birth of my sister. One of my first memories is of them both physically fighting in the living room. We continued to see Pete, and would go over his flat for sleepovers every other weekend. I remember feeling like the odd one out because I was frequently reminded that i was adopted. Pete was a plumber and would sometimes bring us with him to work, the customer would see us and ask him how many kids he had which he would respond to with ‘two, this ones adopted’. My step sister was especially cruel, and would often remind me that ‘blood was thicker than water’ and that the adoption was ‘just a bit of paper’. Pete would bare witness to this behaviour but never intervened. He had an awful temper, one day he completely lost it and told me that my mother had forced him to take me on. I must have been about eleven and it really upset me.
My mother met another man, Ian, not long after separating with Pete. She moved him into our house very quickly. Ian was abusive. It started with name calling and I was frequently told how stupid I was, etc. Although things took a really bad turn when the relationship stated breaking down as he got quite violent towards me. I was about twelve and I remember being slapped, pinned against walls, strangled and thrown around. I think I was an easy target for him to take his frustrations out on.
Not long after my mother and Ian separated I was groomed and abused by a man called Jake. My memories and understanding of what happened is really unclear. Jake was my mother’s friend. I don’t know when it started but I know it went on for over a year, possibly two. My mother worked nights at a nightclub and Jake knew this, so he would call by the house when she was at work often bringing alcohol and sometimes weed. He slowly gained my trust and built up a relationship with me to the point that our relationship became sexual. I think it was restricted to kissing, touching and fondling but my memories are unclear. I do remember sleeping over his flat when I was 14, I slept in his bed and woke up in the morning with him touching me. Jake would make all sorts of promises about the future, like once I turned 16 we were going to move abroad together, etc. I eventually told my mother was was happening and she was shocked, I don’t think she knew what was going on. She called the police, and they came over to take a statement but nothing came of it. In fact I think I told my mother twice, but the first time I retracted it and I can’t remember why. Her boyfriend at the time, Jamie, had got very drunk one night and touched my breasts and bottom in the kitchen. I did try and tell my mum about this also but she thought I was lying again. I don’t know why she believed me the second time I told her about Jake and not about Jamie. I believe social services got involved. One thing has stuck with me; Pete came round to collect my sister. I was fifteen and I don’t remember what he said but he was visibly angry with me because social services were involved therefore he was afraid they may remove us, or more importantly to him, remove my sister.
I left school at sixteen and headed straight to college then university. I enjoyed university but it was also a traumatic time as it set the stage for the break down in my relationship with my mother. I moved into student accommodation at eighteen and was essentially pushed out of my mother’s home thereafter. My mother’s home had two rooms downstairs, one was a living room and one was my bedroom, so when I moved out she converted my bedroom into the living room and the old living room became a dining room. I spent the first two years in student accommodation not even bothering to return home for the summer. My mental health began deteriorating towards the end of my second year to the point I failed my course and had to resist a year. I moved back into my mother’s home but my room was gone so I slept on the sofa. I stayed at my mother’s while resitting my second year but It was less than ideal. In hindsight I shouldn’t have let it go in for so long and found alternative accommodation sooner. Things got pretty bad towards the end of my time there; I was repetitively told I had moved out so shouldn’t expect to be able to move back in, that there wasn’t enough space in the house for three people, and that I needed to go. I was trying to move out but struggling to find anywhere. I eventually found a room but felt like I’d been pushed out which was hurtful. My sister was never pressured to move out and still lives there to this day. I have never understood why we were treated so differently in this respect, and the fact that we were has deepened the feelings of hurt that I already harboured.
Thanks for reading