I have tears in my eyes writing this- all you amazing women here who have survived such shit, yet determined to heal, to come to some understanding, to parent differently and to have such open hearts to share and find empathy for others.
Like several of us my DF became ill when I was 11, he had the first of several heart attacks which eventually over some years led to his death.
My only sibling, an older sister had left home at 14 ( what does that tell you) married and emigrated as soon as she could.
Leaving me, my DM and DF.
From his first serious heart attack I was the one having to phone an ambulance, make that judgement, speak to responders and emergency crew. My mother was "too distraught" to handle things. I was still at primary school.
Friends rallied around my mother, she would sit and wail while I make tea and sandwiches for neighbours.
This scanario was repeated several times over the next few years, each time my mother slid into victim mentality.
Not once did she ask me how I felt, how it was for me seeing my father in intensive care at 11, 13, 14, 15. NOT FUCKING ONCE.
There were no other family members to support me, thankfully I had a few close friends at school and they were my lifeline.
And of course when he died, I had to arrange everything, while she slipped into grieving widow mode. All her talk was about how she had lost her husband, and while I accept her pain , I don't think it entered her head that I had also lost my father it - that fact was lost on her.
Sorry for the rant, it feels good to get that off my chest.