Dear Mum and Dad,
This is a letter to confirm that birth parents do not make a parent and I no longer wish to participate in your abusive games. I am 37 years old and have two wonderful children and a loving husband, who has been my rock since you kicked me out at 17 years old and him and his parents let me stay at their home, between sofa surfing and contemplating suicide.
Having children of my own I no longer WANT to understand what drives a grown man to beat the shit out of a young girl. You tortured me- you threw me downstairs, you punched and kicked me regularly, for reasons unknown, until the woman called mum pulled you off of me. I took beatings for my brothers to protect them. I was not allowed to go outside other than to go to school and I was not allowed leave my room other than to clean up, cook, make you and mum tea and coffee. I grew up, and I couldn’t take it, I wasn’t safe and your beatings were becoming more and more obvious. I left and you turned on my brother, for fuck sake you threw him across the room so hard a radiator came loose off the wall on top of him, eventually he turned into a junkie and you wondered why?
This would be totally shameful but to top it off, dad, your favourite shining example of a son, our youngest brother is gay!!!! hahahahahaha- guess what dear reader- I knew, we all knew and didn’t really care about this aspect of his life. I had told my mum way before he came out, not to be a bitch, but to try and limit the damage. However, when he came out to you, she pretended not to know, A deflected his ‘coming out’ into a fact that I knew and who came looking for me to beat the shit out of me- you, Dad. You fucking wanted to kill me for A being gay- what fucking logic is that and why the fuck do i need a beating for that. The thing was I was 22 and living my own life and Ed was around, much bigger and stronger than you. He knew, he saw me take the phone call from my mum telling me you were coming for me and I hid. I hid like a kid, behind my front door, of my house, terrified.
Mum, where were you in all this- you participated, you never wanted to leave him, even when we had the opportunity, you stood by, yeah you had a few black eyes, but when he was beating the shit out of me and starving me because he thought i was fat, he left you alone. You knew the pain threshold of your children, you knew what force of punch I could take, you know that that xray years later where a doctor had asked if i had broken my ribs was him. The night terrors, I have as an adult. But don’t break the code, never speak to an outsider, never tell anyone what you two were really like!
Anyhow, no one will believe us – we are nice people to others. You brag about my achievements as a gifted child, that I had a full scholarship to a public school on academic merit. You didn’t tell those people, that you would launch the salt pot across the table at my head because I said S-al-t instead of S-ul-t . I was torn between two worlds, the rich and the poor. Council estate kid outcast because I saw things differently and the poor kid at rich school, who had a target on their back.
The school had its own issues, fucking fucked up place full of bullying and racism (BTW i’m white!) look like a barbie doll, was my nickname (bully named me) at school. Even to the point the main bully got a gang of black lads to threaten to gang rape me while walking home. Fuck, no wonder i wanted to end it all. You didn’t care- you DID NOT CARE. Why I ever thought that it would be different I don’t know?!
Mum- your a fucking head fuck- you kept me at the edge of hoping for love from you. You would tell me that you were leaving, make me feel like you were a victim in this twist and then stay, luring me back into your relationship with dad after I cut ties, telling me you couldn’t take life and that there was no way out. I couldn’t see it then and I am still blindsided by it now, but it’s your game. You and Dad, when you have no one around to abuse and you are sick of each other, you work on your grown children, trying to lure us back in. Nowadays, you use guilt, you say we never see you. You say we never pop to the island and bring over the grandchildren. They never stay ( my children will never stay with you) they know what you did to me. When they ask, I tell them that you are not nice people and cannot be trusted. You are not interested in the grandchildren, you are trying to use them as pawns in the game you want to play.
My brother, the junkie one, turned his life around and you cannot have this. He is a fucking champion in this game- he is the winner. He went to hell and got out and is a man to be proud of. You and Mum, will not beat him down. He is not going to be a pawn in your game of all about you, and neither will I. You put the phone down on me, both of you independently, when I asked you to go help him grieve for a person he lost. You made it all about you, you are not nice people. It has taken me 37 years, a few months short of 38 years to have the confidence to say I don’t care if i never see you again. It would be easier if you were dead and least that is all i have to say when people ask me where you are and why you are not a part of my life.
There are days where I long to see you and be near, always wanting and wishing that maternal instinct might shine through, and you tell me you love me and my brothers and that why did it take so long to get away from that bastard. That maternal comfort, hopefully I provide to my daughters, I long to feel, to be the receiver of. You are a part of the poison, mum, yes, you are a bad mum, one of the worst out there. You will grow old lonely and I sit ambivalently with my feelings on this as I know it is a cruel thought and that makes me like you and I want to be nothing like you. I look at my daughters and I want to be the furthest from you as a parent. I will not tolerate you still trying to manipulate me or my brother.
Fuck A too, he will always cast me out for bait. Fucking dodgy shithead. He can manipulate just like you. You tiered him up in your game and he fucking knows it, so he will never be on our side. Snakey little cunt- fucking married men and acting innocent. Yeah, you fuckhead you also knew what you were doing, blaming me for you being gay- what fucking planet does that make sense. I left home when you were 11. I don’t really know who you are, but you knew the game too well. You knew I would get the beating, you used to say I had eaten food and listen to me have the shit kicked out of me, even though you were the one. You would scoff a packet of Dad’s biscuits and fucking grass on me. You liked the game at such a young age. You started stealing money from Mums purse after I left home and blamed Thomas. You would take £20 here and there and blame Thomas outright.
Guess what, at a later point in life, one where i was lured back into the game by mum’s depression episode, she told me she knew it was you and still let Thomas take the beating!!! WTF. How is this shit able to happen. You couldn’t make this shit up. Mum and Dad – you are one fucked up pair of sociopaths, child abusers, man that hurts to write. I am even doubting myself as to whether I should leave that up there. The loyalty, the secrecy of those two words makes me feel sick, I don’t want them to be true but they are. You were abusive, emotionally and physically to children, your own children. Fuck am i going to let you near mine. you are child abusers.
I cannot see how people around us didn’t know. They must have. They must have had an idea that we were odd, especially me, never being allowed out and the cooking and cleaning I used to do; someone must have known.
I call out two cunts- my mum and dad, birth parents only- fucking no right to my life anymore. Enjoy your lonely fucking existence. Your last phone call to me where I asked for you to go help my brother grieve and you both hung up on me.
All the best with your future