So, I thought I would grab out the journals my Aunty wrote so I could write my opinions, feelings and what changed in me when I read certain words from it, but it is 11pm and my sister is asleep right across the hall so I cannot make too much noise and I would have to take A LOT of stuff down from my closet, so instead I will just write certain things from memory in the order they occurred.
Ever since I could remember my mother and I lacked a certain bond, which meant during my visits it sort of felt like I was visiting a bunch of strangers that I was related to and had to be with by force, even if I could have just said I never wanted to go. From memory I had told my dad that I wanted to stop going many times when I was old enough to think for myself and my dad never could quite understand why I would want to stop visiting. To my dad's side of the family I believe they saw a brighter and bubblier side of me that was loving and caring of everyone, especially family and that is a side I don't think my mum saw in me much. When she would come to pick me up it was like I would turn into a zombie, my face would become near emotionless while my insides permanently felt on the brink of crying and that was even though I was sitting in her car of MY driveway I felt like I was already miles away with no chance of return. Visiting her was like going to the Azkaban to be attacked by dementors.
The most recent I can remember is when she moved further away, towards the Central Coast. The car trips from my house were long, dull and where I had no escape of communicating when she spoke until I was in their home. The questions never changed "How's school?", "Good grades?", "How's *insert family member that wasn't usually my dad or step mum*?", I hardly ever remember her asking me about my interests to actually make an effort to get to know me. I was forced to go to sleep earlier than I would of at home, not that I really complained too much because I fell asleep and tried to stay asleep for as long as possible so I could ignore that the reality there was going on. Though falling asleep was difficult when her daughter was KICKING ME IN THE HEAD AND HARASSING ME!
I doubt my mother could have named one of my interests in anything. I felt like a lot of the time that I was just there to baby sit her children and not there to get to know my mother. I'd say about 6 months after I moved houses (A year or a bit after I stopped seeing my mum), my aunty came over and gave me the journals. It listed a lot of things that came as a shock to me.
The first I found out was that my mother had cheated on my dad. Now, yes my mother was young but she still shouldn't have done it. To me this made me view my mother as dirty and easy, which is something you should never think of your mother, but because of the terrible relationship I have with her and the strong bond I have with my father, it made me never want to see her again even if I hadn't seen her in two or so years already. To add to my shame of her, not only did she cheat but if I read correctly she cheated on my dad with her best friend's boyfriend, to me it looked even worse because I place a strong value on friendships and that made her look terrible in my eyes.
It mentioned that two weeks after this was revealed she went to Melbourne and she was gone not very long and when she returned she was no longer with her best friend's boyfriend but had met another man while she was there. The feelings I had for her while I was reading were that I was disgusted, I was like a disappointed parent hearing about the things their child got away with years ago. I believe she ended up marrying this man she met from Melbourne but I cannot remember.
Now because I am doing this from memory I cannot remember if this was before, between or after all these things happened, all I know is that it was during the separation while I was two (I think). My mother had decided to run away with me, to put me in a car with her and drive away and she called my dad as she was driving and said to him she had taken me. He was at work during the call and stopped what he was doing to call my grandmother as he cried on the phone to her telling her what had happened. My dad was distraught, he didn't want to lose me and as I am older I have discovered more why but that is a story for another day. My grandmother told him to come home and when he got home she told him "Give it a day or two and she will be bringing her home", knowing that my mother would not be able to handle herself with me alone. My dad on the other hand was more capable, had family to help him get through if need be and didn't have the family troubles that my mother had gone through. The stories of the trouble she had with family do make me feel sorry for her having such a difficult life and I know she never wanted to be to me like her mother was to her and although she never was like her mother to me, she never felt like my mother.
As my grandmother predicted I was brought home and my dad was furious. Though I don't remember if he acted upon this fury, but she ended up giving him custody of me on returning me back. This lead to me being in one home on weekdays so I could go to school without any confusion and I would visit my mother most weekends, which meant visiting then wasn't so horrible because she lived so close I didn't have to suffer as long but more often, yet I still never wanted to go. Eventually she moved further away and that meant having to go visit one week of every holidays and that was a lot longer amounts of torture but less frequent. I hated it.
To be continued...
Love from a not so happy, Natasha
