I Pray Not Let Anyone Have A Mother Like Mine
All my life, nothing I ever did was good enough for my mother, even things I would surprise her with like cleaning the whole kitchen had no effect.
I always felt I was the one lacking in something. It didn't bode well for my self-esteem which wasn't helped by her constant taunts about how, because I had a heart operation and a scar down my chest nobody would want to marry me and no family would accept me.
She suffered a couple of nervous breakdowns and ended up in hospital a few times. These breakdowns included stuff like praying to the toilet. Yes, you read correctly. Once, when we came to visit, the nurse told us she had discharged herself. That made us all panic and my dad decided we would drive around to look for her. We found her and took her back.
I always wondered why and how my dad stayed married to her for 22 years. The answer was because of me and my brother. He knew that if he had just left or tried to divorce her, she was going to get custody of us. He revealed to me that even when I was a baby, sometimes, he and my nan had to keep her away from me so she didn't seriously hurt or kill me.
In her violent moods, she has thrown everything going from the kitchen, completely trashed my room including breaking a birthday present from a friend and nearly pushed my now partially paralysed dad in the bath (not surprising he suffered a stroke). However, what comes out of her mouth is a much deadlier weapon. I've been called a prostitute just because I went out to celebrate my birthday. Her swearing is beyond anyone.
Her final and worst blow is what I am still suffering from a year later.
She became an outpatient at the local mental health hospital and was diagnosed bipolar. However, her doctor couldn't make any sense of her so he asked my father to come in and of course, took me with him, to explain her history. When we did, she denied everything. With our information, he instantly "upgraded" her to schizophrenia and raised her dosage of medicine.
Madam, of course, was not a happy bunny. The next day, my father had already decided he's had enough because she was getting worse and worse and we had to live in fear in our own home. We even used to call each other to find out which part of the house and what mood she was in. So, he put in an application for divorce.
I was at home on my own and I waited ages to go in the kitchen and couldn't wait any longer for her to leave. When I went in, she backed me into a corner and as she was chopping something, she had a knife in her hand and started pointing it at me and demanding an explanation of why we lied to the doctor. Once I managed to get free, I ran upstairs and locked the door, phoned my dad and the police officer who was dealing with our domestic abuse stuff. By the way, the police are utterly useless. I'd filmed my room being trashed on my phone and showed it to a cop but she did nothing. The most they ever did her for was breach of peace. They were waiting on one of us being seriously hurt or dead before they would shift.
A couple of days after that, she came down in the most aggressive mood I've seen her in. Throwing all the doors wide open, including fridge and back door. Then, as my dad tried to close a door, she nearly toppled him over by pulling the other side. Shouting began between us all and as he sat in his wheelchair, she tried to attack him. So, I started saying stuff to her so she would pick on me instead and at the same time, I shouted for my brother to help. She came at me, pulled both my arms and practically dragged me around the floor. My brother jumped on her back and tried to get her off me and he managed to get her off my left but not right arm. Eventually, he got her off me and she followed me round trying to sit on me. Meanwhile, the police turned up and all they suggested that one party goes out for a while and obviously, she's to stubborn to offer. I went to get ready and that's when I realised I couldn't lift my arm so I looked at it. My top had been torn at the middle bit and I found nail marks dug into the middle bit of my arm.
Dad took me to A&E and they discovered I had a torn bicep muscle, put me in a sling and sent me home. My mother's violence hadn't stopped. She was still in a rotten mood, besides my dad saying can't you see your daughter is in pain and trying to take painkillers? Called the police again and finally they took her and I pressed charges. They put her under bail conditions of not being allowed to contact any of us and come to the house.
While this was going on, people around me were asking why I pressed charges because she's my mother after all. Not that it's any of her business, my answer is this: a) you live with her for a week, b) should a mother do that to her child? & c) ok I'll wait for her to kill one of us. Her family was ringing up and trying to make me drop the case. I told a cop and they warned them that if they do it again, they'll throw them in jail because they are intimidating a victim.
Inside, I was torn. All I ever wanted was for my mother to accept me. I love her but this violence was going to result in serious damage. Like it hadn't already.
They found her not guilty with not enough evidence. I'd been to two doctors and finally, the third one thought it was worth getting things checked out. A nerve conduction test showed serious trauma but healing nerve damage (it took me 8 months to get treatment). He also got me an assessment by a mental health nurse who decided I was suffering from loss and post-traumatic stress disorder and I will be seeing a counsellor soon.
I am going to sue the police and courts for negligence. Her being not guilty (I thought they might get her treatment) brought no closure on the matter. I will have taken 18 months of uni to heal physically, mentally and emotionally. A part of me will never get over my mother.
I have come to terms with don't expect anything from anyone. It's know use me thinking a mother should be caring, loving and a friend because she just wasn't capable of it. She's selfish and not all of her actions are mental health- some are an exaggeration because of her constant need for attention. Me, me, me, I, I, I, self, self, self. My brother was about to start uni and she rang up because she wanted him to come and help her choose a TV. When he told her he was trying to sort his uni stuff out and was starting his first term, do you know what she said? "Fine. Good for nothing." When he finished his final exam at school and he hung out with his friends, came home in a jolly mood, she said, "How was your exam? Terrible?"
A year on, my arm is still pretty bad. If I drop something, I get frustrated and curse her. I will be seeing a holistic healer to deal with that.
Absolutely atrocious behaviour. I'm glad she is out of our lives. I've learnt to mourn for her as if she's dead. The mother and wife in her died a long time ago. She's just a distant memory and a hollow, living corpse. I don't wish anymore for her to change. I just pray nobody else has a mother like her.