I feel lost *AB TRIGGER WARNING*
I grew up with an abusive mother who was severely bipolar and depressed. My father didn't want to know me so I only lived with my mum. She'd hoard rubbish like empty cans, crisp wrappers, etc. and this gradually got worse to when the rubbish would be pilled up to the ceiling and my bedroom would be filled with rubbish bags that she'd never throw away. I was never allowed to sleep in my own bedroom or get dressed in another room, I always had to sleep in hers, even when I was 13 and when I told her that I wanted my own room I would be verbally abused. At first, when she was having an episode, she'd drive me somewhere and then chuck me out of the car and lock it and threaten to drive away. She'd lock me upstairs when she had her friends over and scream at me if I ever wanted to come down. Things just got worse. She would hit me, throw knives at me, pull my hair and say things like "I wish you were never born" and would even tell me that she was giving me to my father, even though he doesn't want me. She would never cook me food, I'd only have crisps or chocolate while she had takeaways. I used to be so hungry so sometimes I would take food upstairs to eat it without her knowing. Once I took a small Easter egg because I didn't eat the whole day and when she found out she started shouting, if I didn't answer her she'd have another go at me, and when I did reply she told me to shut up and put her hands over my mouth and dug her nails into my face. When she noticed she had taken away a chunk of my skin she said I deserved it, 10 seconds later she pulled over and phoned my grandmother saying I done it with a hairbrush.
My grandmother knew the truth and she knew what my mother was doing to me (and herself) but she never did anything, she'd often take sides with her. I took a picture of our house and showed her. My mother disowned me and threw me out of the house. I tried everything I could to get her help but she denied that there was anything wrong. She went to the doctors and things started to get better and I moved back in. I did everything I could to look after her but she stopped taking her anti-depressants and things spiraled. I was too scared to say anything. One night she tried to lock me in our living room, I tried to get out by stepping over her but accidentally kicked her eye, she chucked me out of the house at night. She then found me and took me home where she tried to strangle me. Within minutes she had forgotten what she had done. I told her I couldn't cope with this anymore. She kicked me out again and said she never wanted me back. I never saw her again. I had it all planned out in my head how I was going to come home from school a few days later and give her a big hug but instead, I come home to the news that she's dead. The tests came back inconclusive and 5 years later I don't know how she died. It's assumed that it was an undiagnosed heart rhythm problem meaning there's a 50% chance I can have it.
My mother always used to make comments about my weight, saying I looked 6 months pregnant and then sometimes she'd phone my grandmother talking about how much weight I had lost. When I was younger, I started making myself sick after eating. It just made me feel better. When she found out she told me to stop but then said how the only good thing is that it would help me to lose weight and now I just can't stop doing it. It seems to have just gotten worse - I steal food all of the time and binge and I've put on quite a bit of weight over the 5 years.
Most days I don't think about it at all. However, sometimes something small can happen that will bother me and it will trigger all of these feelings. I can't remember much before the age of 13 (how old I was when she died). I can't remember what she looks like or sounds like. I know what happened but I don't remember anything in detail and that which I do remember feels like it never happened to me - like it's someone else's story. Sometimes it feels like its happening all of again (even though I can't remember much). I feel numb and as if the world around me isn't real. This may last a few days and then I'll be so much happier. However, the bad times are getting are coming more often and lasting longer. Smaller things are beginning to trigger it all and I'm starting to feel a bit last. Because I can't remember a lot of it it's difficult to speak about it and show emotion. Often I speak about it as if it's nothing (often coming across as if I'm sharing the story for attention). This means that people often don't take me seriously. A lot of friends also knew my mother and have always known her as a nice person and can't seem to put it into perspective. I feel as though people who have known me for a while know me to be happy and very rarely sad, so if I bring anything up about my mother it's because she's dead and not because of all of the other things.
