…Even When It’s Family.

My mother has been the most toxic person in my life since the day I was born. I, of course, didn’t know it until adulthood when I started to hear the stories and see for myself what she is. Despite knowing how evil she really is, I held on. I held on partially because my nanny taught me to forgive and tolerate her, partially because she has guardianship of my nephew and someone needed to put up with her for him and his safety and partially in hopes that I would one day have a mother who actually cared about me. My Nanny has passed, My nephew is 16 and I realize I need peace, not a mother. I blocked out a lot of my childhood, in fact, most of my “memories” are stories from other people. One day about 2 or 3 years ago the locks on that overcrowded vault broke and a tsunami of trauma was released. Despite that explosion of emotion I thought that I got past it all and accepted my mother for who she is…On October 13, 2019 I realized I was wrong, I buried it instead, and on December 16th 2019 it all surfaced and punched me in the face so hard that I haven’t stopped crying since.

So where do I start? With the stuff I remember? With the stuff I have heard and know to be true? At the beginning? How about where it started? My father left her when I was 4-ish. Do you want to know why? Well I am going to tell you anyway. She slept with my father’s brother…for years! My dad found out and left her, unbeknownst to him at the time, leaving his children too. In the early 80s, taking custody from a mother was an impossible task and so we were stuck with her. We were stuck to be abused, neglected, brainwashed and used by a woman I put all of my faith, trust and love in, my mother.

She abused us; physically, mentally, emotionally and although she did not abuse us sexually, she might as well have. I was molested at 5 or 6 and was too afraid to tell her. I was molested at 12 or 13 and she made friends with the guy who did it. No. I am NOT kidding! I ran home and told her. She 1. Did not call the police 2. Yelled at me for leaving the place I was at in the middle of the night 3. Waited until morning to go “confront” the dude 4. Called to tell me what a nice guy he is and that I should go back and meet him so he can apologize … Nope. Still not kidding. She beat me so much. Sure it could have been worse, it could have been much worse but abuse is abuse is abuse. She beat me with sticks, brushes, slippers and on occasion her hand. She threw things at me, she yanked me by the head of the hair, she starved and malnourished me, She screamed and screamed and screamed. She pit my sisters and I against each other. She “bashed” all of us to each other. She played favourites and made it well known. I will never forget the time an ambulance had to be called because she yanked one of my sisters off of the top bunk and all we heard was a loud pop and thought my mother broke my sister’s neck. Or the time she started beating me with a bag of chocolate bars (that I was selling for school) because I “allowed” my younger sister to eat a bunch of them. Often if she wanted information, such as who did something, she would line us up and beat us until someone fessed up, I often lied and “fessed up” to keep my sisters from being beaten. I looked out for them and was like a mother to them from a very young age.

I am sure she hated being a mother. Because she wasn’t one. I was. My first recollection of her neglect was when I had to make my sisters breakfast because my mother wouldn’t get out of bed. Whether she was just being lazy or she was hungover from the drinking or drugs that she says she never used, I don’t know. What I do know is that my sisters and I were all 6 and under and were hungry. I attempted oatmeal and failed. I burnt it. I did the cooking and the cleaning and pretty much all of it until my sisters were old enough to help cater to her every whim. She did next to nothing. She was rarely home. She was either out partying or visiting friends and when she was home she was watching TV or screwing her flavour of the month. On the occasions that she did cook, it was KD for us and steak for her. I specifically remember sitting at the dinner table eating crap dinner (AKA Kraft Dinner) while she sat in the living room eating her steak and potatoes.

She hadn’t perfected her brainwashing quite yet but that is not to say she didn’t fill my head with lie after lie anyway. She wanted me to believe that she was the only one that loved me, that my entire family (especially on my dads side) hated me. She would say things like “Your father is an asshole”, “Your father doesn’t love you”, “Your father doesn’t want you”, “Your grandmother hates you”, “None of them care about you”, “I am the only person you can count on” HA! What a load of shit!! She wanted me totally dependant on her. Although I did sometimes believe her lies, I was much too strong willed and independent to be completely brainwashed. She did get closer and closer with each child though and it is nearly perfected now with my nephew.

She used us as a welfare cheque. Fully capable of working, she spent her whole life on welfare. The more kids, the more money. When the kids ran out she manipulated her way onto disability and into another child, her grandson, my nephew. She used us to punish my father and his family. He left her and she hated him for it. She spent all of my childhood and some of my adult life torturing my father; from hiding us to taking us away to demanding child support and laughing about it. She would tell him that he could see us and then either leave before he got to the house or have us hidden and hushed. I specifically remember a time when my step father was knocking at the door, trying to visit us and his daughter and she was threatening us to keep quiet. She moved us around the country, first to Montreal and then to Penticton. I barely remember the move to Montreal but the move to Penticton was to keep us from moving in with our dad. You see, I was 14 and after running away, again, my sister and I went to stay with my grandmother while we waited for my dad to have room for us. He and my step-mom were buying a house that would have fit all of us. Despite my mother’s best efforts, even without knowing him well, I was always daddy’s girl and she hated me for it but she hated him more. I was excited and shortly before it was time to move with my dad, I got the call: “I am moving to British Columbia and if you ever want to see your sisters again you will come” She kept his kids from him for 10 years and there she went again, destroying his life knowing full well that I would go to be with and protect my sisters. She just couldn’t let it (or the money) go. When we were all old enough to think for ourselves and fend for ourselves she had only 1 way left to punish him, financially, and she did. She went after child support. I remember a phone call with her in which she laughed because she was getting child support cheques from him. She spent her entire life on welfare, refused to let him see his kids and still managed to be a cunt and laugh at taking money from our dad and baby sister who needed it more than her welfare abusing ass.

Despite knowing what she’s done (and still doing) it took all of my 43 years for it to actually click in, it took a funeral. My grandfather, my last living grandparent, had passed away on October 10th 2019. From that day forward, in addition to feeling grief, I felt hatred. Full and complete hatred for the first time in my life. I was a complete and utter mess, because not only did I lose my last living grandparent, I lost the last of the only 2 people I ever thought cared about me. You see, my mother tried very hard to do that brainwashing thing and for the most part it worked, but she could not wipe away my Nanny G nor my Grampy S. We lived next door to my Dad’s parents when I was 5-8 ish and despite my mother telling me to not go to my grandparents house, I would sneak over to Grampy’s to eat and talk. He would tell me stories and ask about me. He cared and nothing my mother could say would change that. So why the hatred you ask? Well as I said, it clicked. I sat and listened to my dad’s family share their memories of Grampy. They shared stories from him and about him and I had almost none. I watched them comfort each other and love each other and me. They comforted me too. But what really hit home, what really made my head ride the emotional rollercoaster from hell was when my youngest aunt told me “We have loved you from the day you were born”. I knew my mother was a liar, I knew she manipulated us, I knew she was a vengeful bitch, that was confirmed time and time again by even her own family, but no one ever confirmed that they had always loved me. Sure the “love you” is said when signing a card or when the phone call is ending but … they always did love me and she kept me away. I spent the next month trying to overcome this which proved to be really difficult because, you see, I used to call my mother nearly every day or at least once a week and then right after my grampy died…nothing. She couldn’t be bothered to call me to check in to see if I was doing ok. When she did finally call a month later she established the most bullshit excuse I have ever heard … Oh I thought that your partner might be home and I know you don’t like me calling when he is home… What the actual fuck! I confusingly corrected her with an “um, mom, I have never said that and we have talked many times while he’s been home” She quickly covered her lie with “oh that was your sister”. As usual, I knew she was lying, but I dropped it and moved on anyway. But things were different now, I could feel it. It wasn’t a good feeling at all. I felt sadness, anger and even hate with every word she spoke and every time we spoke over the next few weeks and it only got worse.

During the first week(ish) of December my mother fell and apparently broke her kneecap putting her in a cast from her ankle up to her mid thigh (as she tells me). She also tells me that the doctor said no walking on it for 6 to 8 weeks. Amid this conversation she informed me that my nephew would not be attending school so that he could “take care of her”. This was unacceptable and I told her so in a very stern way. I demanded that he go to school and that she call her disability/social worker and get some help. To get someone to come in and help her with her daily activities. She said she would… A couple days later I come to find out that she is at her friend’s house and my nephew is at my aunts so that he can go to school. Not the best scenario, but it will do. The following weekend, I called my aunts to speak with my nephew. He wasn’t there. My aunt informed me that my mother decided to have him with her at her friends for the weekend. That was fine except for one thing … Monday came and my frantic aunt called me not knowing what to do because my mother decided to keep my nephew with her at her friends home, not sending him to school. My aunt may not be great at parenting and discipline, but she loves my nephew and wants him in school so he can succeed in life. My mother is hindering every aspect of that.

It did not take me long to figure out what was going on. It was December 16th, my sister arrived the night before. You see, my sister planned a trip home for Christmas to spend time with her son and to see her family whom she hadn’t seen in 10 ish years. She let our mother know a few weeks ahead of time that she would be there from December 15th through to the 31st. I got my mother on the phone almost immediately following that epiphany. I confronted her with my theory, “Don’t you dare lie to me, tell me the truth for once in your life, did you take him from [my aunts] to keep him from her?” I knew the answer. She knew I knew the answer. She hesitated but confirmed. Her confirmation threw me into a rage that I never thought possible. In the moment, I did not realize that it was because of my PTSD, because of what she did to me and my sisters. She tried to cover up her evil with lies (Surprise, surprise). “But [her ex] said she was coming to take him” My rage escalated. First of all, my sister does not have these types of conversations with her ex. Second of all, My nephew is almost 16 and is a big boy, she is not “taking” him anywhere that he does not want to go. Most importantly, because this particular ex is an idiot. A crackhead. A liar. A piece of shit. This particular ex is in cahoots with my mother to keep all of my sisters children away from her. I have warned my mother, what feels like, a million times of this, but she ignores it. Why? Because they are in league to punish my sister for crimes that she tries to rectify. She can’t rectify them because they won’t let her.

Following that fit of rage I was drained, fully drained, I cried for days. I have never, in my 43 years, felt so much wrath and abhorrence and it knocked me on my ass. I couldn’t even fathom the emotions that were flowing through my body over those few days. All of the feelings were negative and powerful. I finally came to a realization. A realization that I wish I had come to years ago. My mother has to go. Her repugnant personality is no longer welcome in my life. I have had enough of her lies and schemes and manipulation and it needs to stop. Since she won’t stop it, I will.

Child protection has been called (AGAIN) and told about many incidents with my nephew, including her locking herself in her room and threatening to commit suicide resulting in him breaking down her bedroom door, her threatening him and screaming at him on a regular basis, Her brainwashing him and forcing him onto medications that he doesnt need, her using him to punish others and her keeping him home from school to do her bidding. She has ruined his life. I only hope and pray that it is not too late for him to be helped and (for lack of a better word) fixed.

My nanny taught me to forgive and tolerate my mother and although I never really forgave her, I tolerated her for my Nanny and then for my nephew. I thought I accepted her for the lying, conniving, manipulative bitch that she is. As it turns out I should not tolerate abuse, I should not tolerate toxicity, I should not tolerate her.

Family. Survivor. Goodbye.