Written by [Name Witheld] (Part 3 of 3)
It has taken me a long time to finish this post as there is no happy ending. It’s a story without a conclusion. As a control freak I have not wanted to admit defeat. It's been three years since THAT phone call. So much has happened - many sleepless nights, tears, anger, hatred, confusion, all the emotions, and I am still not at the finish line.
This post will probably be all over the place as my head is still not very clear and right now, I am just venting, I need an outlet. I will be real and honest and should warn you that reading this may be a trigger for some people.
I spent the first year putting a plaster on my feelings and not allowing the scar to heal at all. At times, I would take off the plaster and pick at the wound. It would bleed and I would be at square one all over again. Mum refused to talk about it and just carried on like everything was back to normal. We spoke every morning about superficial things and each time, I just wanted to scream down the phone 'tell me who my dad is!!!', but I cared too much about how this was making her feel. I didn’t want to rock the boat and lose her. After all, she's still my mum, the one who took care of me and who has, for the most part, wanted nothing but the best for me for the past 29 years.
Mum brought me a car and expected me to get over it and just move on….her way of saying sorry. I tried, I really tried. I put the whole 'dad' thing to the back of my mind and just went on living, but there was a resentment burning in my heart, an anger that was always there, just waiting to boil over. Why could she not see how this was affecting me? Why could she not see that I had a right to know who my dad was? Why could she not see that this was ruining our relationship!?
The second year was the hardest, I was in a long-term relationship. I thought he was great but although he was my rock through all of the identity heartache, we parted ways. Now that I'm in a better head space, I can see that because of what I was going through, I stayed in that relationship longer than I needed to (but that's a whole new post). My world was crumbling around me and I could not get control back. I was sad all the time. Not just sad sad - it hurt to breath, my heart ached. Getting up in the morning was a struggle, going to school was a chore (and I love my job). The dark cloud became so dark that I was thinking of ways to end my life.
The state of my mental health was a wakeup call for my mum and she agreed for us to go to counselling together to help restore our relationship. Therapy lasted two sessions before things became too heavy for her. She decided that it was not needed after all. She was fine. The counsellor told me that I could continue the sessions but without my mum, it would be very difficult for us to move forward. I did a few more sessions just to get things clear in my head.
We went back to pretending that everything was fine, but I could not shift the resentment. I could not just move on, I couldn’t trust her. So eventually, last year, I sat her down and told her how I really felt. I explained that I could not move past this and if she wanted our relationship to heal, she would have to play her part. I put on my big girl pants and explained that I didn’t trust her and I felt like she had betrayed me. I also explained that I had a right to know who my father is, that I don’t even know if I want to meet him, but I want to make that choice for myself. My mind was constantly racing: What if he is not alive anymore? What if I have siblings!? He does not even know I exist!
I said some really home-hitting truths to my mum. I could see the pain in her eyes as I spoke, but this time it was not about her. My feelings mattered and I needed to be heard. I hoped she understood. I needed this time to be different and we came to an agreement. She would make some phone calls and when she went up north the next month, she would ask around and get me some contact details (or at least a full name) so I could do the rest.
I ended the conversation by reminding her that the trust was already broken and if she did not do what she said she would, I wasn't sure where we could go next as mother and daughter. I felt stupid for feeling it, but I finally had hope.
That was six months ago.
The silence is deafening!