The Big Move.

We’ve been living with my mum for just under two years now. It’s not always been the easiest of rides as my mother and I bare many similarities especially emotionally and tend to clash tremendously. This leads to quite upsetting arguments and usually an attack on someone’s personality. We do make up relatively quickly although my mum is much better at holding a grudge than me.

This doesn’t reflect on our time with her though. Many have commented how it is time for me to make the big move away from my mother due to my age, marriage and ‘lack’ of independence. However, our situation isn’t as ‘normal’ as they assume.

I chose to live with my father, my abuser, after the divorce. Even as my mum pleaded with me to leave him and offered up a much better life, I stuck by the man who tortured me daily, too frightened to go and too scared to be without him. He had become a horribly important part of my life. He was all I had known. The abuse was all I had known. The timing was never right. My sister was a prominent feature who too had the power of emotional control and influence over our mother. The battle that faced me wasn’t worth leaving the battle I endured every day.

I craved a time where I would be with my mum, whatever age. To be with her and feel like someone’s daughter. It came two years ago. I am ready to leave and set up a new home with my hubby and baby but my mother is part of that family now and always will be. It is not ‘unhealthy’ nor it is ‘dependant’ as some people have said. It is a testament to the love we feel as a family.

My husband loves my mother very much. He is very honest with me about our future and none of it includes abandoning or not including my mum. He sees her as a valid member of our family.

I went to visit a place outside of London yesterday. We now have a big decision to make………

To leave London or not to leave London..

Or ultimately, to leave my mum.

Dear Mum.

Dear Mum,

Who would have predicted our relationship to become what it has? Certainly not me. I am incredibly thankful that we both were able to forget the past and forgive the pain we caused each other. I know we made foolish mistakes and sadly, I will live with that regret long after you will have gone from my life.

I worry about that day. The day I eventually lose you. I think about it unnecessarily. It often haunts me. The fear is consuming as I think about the emptiness I will feel. You will berate me for it but all those wasted years of anger and stubbornness will echo louder than ever on the day we say goodbye. I am truly sorry I did not see through his lies. I regret so much. I should have listened to you but his control was so powerful. I was a puppet to him that he commanded and manipulated for his will. Undeniably, I trusted him; he was my father after all.

You hated me once.

I know it was hate.

The day I ran away and left that torrid note. The note that you and I will never forget. I remember the words, some of them at least. Saying “sorry” was not enough for my actions but there were no other words. I felt trapped. He was so convincing. He knew the game he was playing very well and I became a pawn in it. Helpless. Don’t forget, I was only fifteen. It is still young and my innocent soul was struggling to stay in reality. He had won his pathetic competition the second I walked out of your house. 

I cannot bear to think of what that did to you. Coming home to find me gone. My things, my clothes, my presence – gone. My note remained, left to be discovered on the kitchen counter. Hate doesn’t come close. What I did was detrimental to your breakdown and I know the blame falls on me. Yet, although I understand why, I cannot agree with all the comments you and my sister made towards me. I did not do it to hurt you. I did what I thought was right at the time. I did what he had convinced me to do. I truly believed your love for her was stronger and the only reason you wanted me was to spite my dad. 

You had become a stranger to me.

No longer were you my protector. The strong woman who nurtured and guarded me from harm. I did not feel safe with you. To me, you were volatile, risky. Both of you were. You and my sister became frightening. A powerful, intimidating duo. I looked for warmth, for love, for the kindness within you but your anger and hostility towards him was far more substantial. I could not break through your hardened exterior.

You mocked me.

You both did.

It hurt Ma. It hurt so much. I loved you. That never changed. Yet, you both used my hurt against me. 

I am so glad we got through that. Change can happen. We are proof of it.

To think that the woman I ran from all those years ago would be the same woman I have run to now.

Thank you Ma,

Love Tuni (your nickname for me) xxxx

Welcome back Ma.

This week will finally mark the return of my mother from India. It has been a long five weeks without her. That’s not to say that I haven’t enjoyed some quality time with my husband or a chance for independence – I have. However, the feeling of being in her house for so long without her makes me anticipate what it’ll be like when she really has gone for good. Yes, how morbid but I can’t help feeling that way.

Most thirty one year olds would dread the prospect of returning home to their mother. Not me.

Growing up, we never had a connection. Even into my early twenties did the barrier remain. There were ample opportunities to move to my mums’ during the abuse yet my father’s emotional hold was too strong and my unnatural loyalty to him was keeping me back. She has always criticised that choice, the choice to stay with my abuser. In my mind, I just clung to hope. A lost hope that he would change into the father he used to be. That is why I stayed so long.

Have I enjoyed these last few months with her? Yes. More than I thought I would. I wish we had spent more time together when we both were younger. It is upsetting to imagine the years we wasted.

I can’t wait to have her back.

See you soon Mummy xx

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The Big Move!

I’ve been out of WordPress action for the last few days due to moving house! My husband took Friday off work to help with the last dregs of packing however there was so much left to do and we were left feeling rather overwhelmed.

We had to move, not really out of choice as our landlord sort of sprung it on us. We are now at my mum’s house. Again, not ideal! But hopefully not for too long. I don’t want to be a burden to her but she would never turn us out with nowhere to go, I know my safety and comfort is on her priority list.

We are very lucky to be here with the chance to save some money for the remaining part of 2013. Renting is so bloody expensive!

The last few days have been incredibly chaotic. On Friday, after a full day of packing, David and I went out for sushi. Something must have disagreed with me as a few hours later, in the middle of the night, I awoke with a ferocious rash covering my face and neck. Gradually it spread over my body and I realized I was having a horrific allergic reaction. I woke up David as it seemed serious. I just couldn’t believe it was happening the night before the move! After taking an antihistamine and attempting not to itch my face for an hour, we both drifted off to sleep. Unfortunately, we were up just five hours later.

Being exhausted was not the ideal feeling I had hoped for on Saturday. As well as the itchy lumps that appeared on me the night before I also had to deal with the worst stomach cramps I have ever had! They were shockingly painful and left me feeling pretty sick on Saturday.

So! Crappy start to the big move.

David’s parents kindly helped us all day yesterday. It would’ve been a nightmare without them.

My mother is away and back tomorrow. The unpacking has already commenced!

Wish us luck!