Another year, another Mother’s Day.
Five years down the line of the investigation and it still doesn’t feel any different to the first year, the second year or any of the other years after that. It should, I mean I should be used to it by now. I suppose I kind of am. It still hurts though.
Hundreds of cards in all the card shops. Post after post on Facebook for all the amazing Mummies in the world. I am thankful that there are such amazing Mums in the world and that my friends have such wonderful Mothers. But a part of me is jealous too. I can’t help it. I don’t mean to feel this way. It is just there. The pang of jealousy, knowing how amazing their Mums are and knowing how mine let me down. I feel guilty for feeling it for I love all of my friends Mothers. But I cannot help but feel it. It is just the way it is.
I know I am not alone in feeling it either. I know that there will be other abuse victims all over the world feeling the same way that I do and feeling just as guilty. But we shouldn’t have to feel bad about how we feel. We were hurt so badly and the one person who was meant to protect us didn’t.
For a long time I was confused. Confused about my feelings towards my own Mother. I felt love for her for a very long time and I thought that that meant that I couldn’t be angry for what she did to me. I thought that it meant that I couldn’t hate her for letting that man hurt me. But I was wrong. Just because I felt love for her doesn’t mean I cannot feel anything else.
I have come to realise that the love I felt for her, that I still feel for her sometimes, is there because I feel like I have to feel it. After all she is technically my mother. But she doesn’t deserve that title. Yes, she gave birth to me, but she has not and never will be my Mother. A Mother loves and protects her child. My Mother did the opposite. My Mother stood by and let that monster hurt me time after time. Day after day. Month after Month. Year after year. No matter who told her; me, a teacher, police, it wasn’t good enough. She made her choice. She chose the monster over me. Over her own flesh and blood. That is no Mother.
Even now, knowing there is a police case against the monster who hurt me. Knowing that I am believed by authorities and others, she still chose him. She had a chance to try to make everything right and she still chose that monster over me. I will never be able to forgive her and in all honesty I don’t want to.
The love I once felt, the love I was once so confused about, well that has turned to pain, which has in turn, turned to anger. Anger that she betrayed me. Anger that she gave up on me. Anger that she chose him knowing what he is, what he does, over her own flesh and blood who needed her so badly. Anger that she could just stand by and let it happen time and time again. Anger that she watched me fall apart and tried to blame it all on me when she knew the blame fell at his feet. At her feet.
That anger though, that anger has helped me. It has made me more determined to use my voice to help others in my position. Why? Because how many children will be out there this Mother’s Day crying out for someone to help them and their Mother won’t be there? Even worse, she will be there and will do nothing. How many victims and survivors of abuse will walk past card shops and feel guilty for hating their Mothers or feel guilty about feeling jealous about their friends mothers and will have no-one there to tell them that it’s OK to feel that way? That they are entitled to feel that way.
I am that person. I am that voice. Because this Mother’s Day while everyone is celebrating with cards and gifts, they will be forgetting that somewhere out there, there is a child being abused or raped with a mother who just doesn’t care and turns a blind eye just like mine did. While everyone is celebrating this Mother’s Day they will be forgetting that there are victims and survivors battling through memories so horrendous that they just want the day to end. They just want to forget. If only it were that easy.
Another year, another Mother’s Day. Another chance for me to use my voice and tell my truth to raise awareness of a heinous crime that people are just too scared to talk about. That people want to pretend does not exist. Except it does exist. I am proof of that. And I am living proof that people, no matter who they are, still want to brush this under the carpet and pretend this doesn’t happen.
So please, while you are all celebrating with your Mother’s and your families, please give a thought to those children who are cowering in a corner to protect themselves from their abusers hand, or hiding under their bed to try to protect themselves from being raped and be extra vigilant. Think of those of us who are trying to get through the day whilst battling the memories of being beaten, raped and tortured and reach out your hand to see if we are OK because we certainly won’t volunteer that we aren’t, we feel too ashamed. We want you to be happy but we are feeling sad. We are trying our best. I promise.
Another year, another Mother’s Day. Another Memory. Another Truth. Another chance to raise our voices and tell our stories. Please listen.
Mother’s Day isn’t always happy for everyone. Especially when it is your Mother who has betrayed you the most in the whole world.
Thanks for reading.
**Image courtesy of Google Images**