I don't like my parents. Or most of the rest of my 'family.' I have known drunks on the tube to be nicer to me than they have been
I got pregnant when I was 29 by an unavailable, cheating, lying, sick arsehole.
Oh and he was my boss.
And 20 years older than me.
My mother said 'Go over the road to the doctor NOW and get rid of it. You won't be able to love it' Eh? Wtf?
My father said 'You will end up unemployed, on the dole and living in a council house because your mother and I won't help you.' Eh? wtf?
One older brother (by four years) drove me, sobbing uncontrollably, to the termination clinic in Twickenham, gave me a polo to make me 'feel better' then drove away (the shithead father was nowhere on the scene of course - too busy being transferred to another part of the BBC on 'substantive pay')
My other brother (older by ten years) picked me up a few hours later and said I had done the right thing.
I meanwhile was inconsolable.
I discovered a couple of weeks later from my older (by seven years) sister that she was three months pregnant with her fifth child but hadn't wanted to 'upset me' by letting me know. (What - it was better that I found out a week after having an abortion? Stupid self-obsessed woman.)
My younger sister is a total fuck-up and has been utterly useless over anything emotional. She is in her forties, penniless and lives with my very old parents and is odd.
My point is, I don't think my parents did a good job of raising their children at all, or of being nice let alone loving.
My dead baby would have been 14 on august 19th this year. It never, ever goes away.
So I think, on occasion, it is perfectly ok not to love your parents/family - or even like them. I can't stand mine.
After all, as my mother so memorably pointed out to me ....'You won't be able to love it' (my own baby.)
She was talking about herself of course - SHE wouldn't have been able to love 'it'; and she knew what she was talking about because I now realise she was speaking from experience - she has been unable to really love any of us, her own children.
Turns out she had two abortions and hadn't given a fig about either.
So I, now, as a proper adult and with a baby son of my own, am so sickened by her that I find I am unable to love her.
I rarely see my parents. They have seen my son for one hour only and he is now 14 months. My sublings have never met him and never call, and I don't call them.
Am not sad at all. My brilliant friends are my true family and my son's relations.