Well I’ve broken my promise to always be honest already.
I'm one to keep my promises so I’m going to come clean.
I do remember some stuff about the divorce.
But, it’s not very nice.
I promise this will get cheery later but first I need to go through the other stuff otherwise what’s happening now will make no sense.
So my main memory of the divorce is when me and my sister were about three. We were sitting in the lounge playing with lego when the door burst open.
It was our dad.
He charged upstairs and then we could just hear….noises. Shouting and crying…
Well my sister started crying, understandably, so me, being the technically older sister, started trying to comfort her, attempting to distract her with the lego but the noises were getting louder, mum could hear my sister was upset and was trying to escape.
I’ve been the one to comfort my sister ever since, and my mum at times.
Sometimes I wish there was someone who comforted me.
Sometimes, I wonder how screwed up I am.
Because that man is my dad, I have seen him hit my mum, hit my sister even but…. I still get on better with him.
I'm more like him.
So what kind of person does that make me?
My mum is always telling me to not do this, not do that because “you look just like your dad when you do.”
They say you end up like your mum and marry someone like you dad.
So yeah, I'm screwed.
After that, we moved to where we are now in the south west and mum found the first in a long line of boyfriends. He was quiet nice though but, well my mum has trust issues. She broke up with him thinking he’d stolen from her.
The next one was Steven. He was okay, all I really remember was that he had a little bulldog.
I’m, not entirely sure what happened with them but I remember walking into his lounge and finding a plate on the floor, bits of sandwich everywhere and my mum picking them up with tears in her eyes.
Nothing happened for a while after that, we went to primary school and we shared a best friend. It was a Christian primary school and it was around this time mum started getting us to go to church every Sunday. We didn’t mind too much but we kept switching churches because inevitably mum would fall out with someone.
What I do remember though was that one church got me involved in their nativity play.
Now this wasn’t a children’s thing, I was the only kid in it and I was so proud of myself. They all said how impressed they were with me and I couldn’t wait to carry on.
Then we moved church again.
It still makes me angry now.
Acting has always been my thing, the only reason I don’t study it is I want to get into a good university and most of them aren’t too keen on their potential graduates taking theatre studies.
So yeah, I was pretty pissed off.
Then mum met Pete.
He was tall, kind of potbellied, grey hair, glasses and had three fake teeth he could detach at will and rattle in his mouth.
And he liked to drink.
I’m not saying he would get drunk all the time, in fact I never saw him get drunk. He just enjoyed a glass of wine at dinner and a can of beer on the sofa.
But he got mum drinking.
My sister is a little underweight, most of it I think is just that she doesn’t like feeling full, which is fair enough, but her stomach isn’t big enough for full to do much for her.
And I blame most of this on Pete.
He believed in the whole “children must sit at the table until they’ve cleared their plate” thing.
Eden and I began to hate dinner time.
He took it a step further then just waiting us out.
Him and mum would force open our mouth and shovel the food in, daring us to spit it back out again.
Yeah, it wasn’t nice.
They split up after mum was sure he was seeing his ex. A recurring theme you’ll find.
The boyfriends got better after him, though, despite the mess he left, I remember sneaking downstairs, out the back door to the garden where he was standing, trying to get mum to let him back in. He was packing his stuff in the car and I walked over and gave him this little fairy statue I’d had on my window sill for years. I don’t remember what it was, but I wrote some kind of scrawl on the bottom. He gave me a hug and left telling me he was sorry. I went back inside and cleared up the wine bottles mum had left all over the kitchen floor, grabbed a bowl and went upstairs to give it to her in case she was sick.
Then there was Gary.
He was okay, he got mum back into playing her guitar which I was pleased about but he lived in Westbury so we moved up there. It meant Eden and I missed the last few months of year six. There are friends I never got to say goodbye to and I’ll never forgive mum for that.
That’s the thing, on one hand; mum loosens up when she has a boyfriend, the guy can calm her down when she’s angry. But on the other, she tends to sort of forget about us.
They broke up when mum was certain he was cheating on her with an ex.
It was quiet for a quite a while after that. During this time, we’d been allowed to see our dad during a couple of weekends and over holidays in the year.
But it was soon after this that mum stopped us from seeing him.
My dad isn’t coming off very well here, and I suppose he shouldn’t. What he did wasn’t right, I know that, but….I suppose because it’s all mum’s told us about him from when we were little, it doesn’t really have much meaning anymore.
Being completely honest? Sometimes when mum’s really having a go at me, I can kind of understand why someone would want to hit her.
Messed up right?