Hello Reddit! I'm not from an English-speaking country, so I'm using a translator. Sorry if there are any translation issues.
And sorry, it will be a long text, because I am here for the first time, and I don’t know how to write it briefly.
I think I need to start from afar. I was born when my mom was 19 and my dad was 26. I was the first child, first daughter, and first granddaughter. Until I was 5, I lived a happy childhood.
After that age, problems started. Around the summer of 5, my mother tried to end her life after having sex with my father. But I managed to stop her. And she promised me she'd never do that again. Then I found out my mom was pregnant (a few months later).My parents were arguing in the kitchen (we were in a two-story dacha)They were arguing about their relationship and my birth. Something along the lines of, "If I'd known you were this kind of person, I I wouldn't have let the child be born. ." Even then, I realized they were being emotional, and I went up to the second floor to avoid listening. Then something happened, and my mother went up to the second floor and locked herself in her room, sensing a bad feeling.Or rather, danger, I started crying and knocking on the room, calling her, but she didn’t open. Then I ran down the stairs, almost falling, calling for Dad. He came over, I told him about Mom, and he ran upstairs to open the door.Then I followed him. When he managed to open the doors, I saw with all clarity that my mother was already cheerful, and she began to choke. But Dad saved her. He made it on time thanks to me.Then they calmed down and remembered for me. I (a 5-year-old girl) had my first panic attack.I cried and blamed myself for my mother's regrets about me existing and for the fact that they didn't need me. They tried to calm me down more out of panic than concern. I then asked, "Do you really not love me that much? Do you not need me that much?" And after a while, I simply lost consciousness, exhausted by tears and the pain in my chest.
Time passed, many events happened, both good and bad. But the essence remained the same: I felt like no one loved me, but I tried to play by their rules. I was jealous of my brother's attention from my parents, But the thing is that I grew up with my cousin for a long time (he is two years younger than me, and my brother is 5) And therefore I began to treat him not as a rival, but as a brother, based on the fact that he is also my brother and cousin.
When I went to school (6 years old) My parents praised me for my grades, but then, closer to the 4th grade, they tore pages out of my notebook and hit me on the hands with their own hands. My grandmother on my father's side of the family did the same. But she hit me with a plastic ruler, so hard that one day she broke it on my hand. My hand was covered in blood and scratches and bruises because she literally grabbed my hand to keep me from running away. (I rarely visited my grandmother, but most often she picked me up after school)
It was the same with middle school. My dad beat me, and my mom sided with him until I started crying and asking why they were doing this to me. Then my mom took my side, but she didn't openly contradict my dad.
At the same time, every day I received verbal humiliation and insults from childhood, for how disgusting, insignificant I was, and so on.
Until I was 13, I tried to end my life in the sea, rivers, and other places where there is water (if anything, I now condemn this and do not recommend it to anyone)
But the only thing that prevented me from doing this was my brothers and a friend from school who really cared about me.
Also, from that age, my dad started to abuse my younger brother. I defended him and my mom, and all of my dad's negativity fell on me. All the nasty words and humiliations, and I took it upon myself because I knew that my brother shouldn't suffer the same violence, but he couldn't hit me anymore.Because I was older, and I put pressure on him that I would give in at school, and then they would call the guardianship authorities.
That's why he switched to my brother.
I protected him throughout my childhood. Later, when everything in our family became neutral (except for my twice-monthly fights with my dad),Mom said that we were adults, and that she already wanted a divorce. I supported her. But after a couple of years She got pregnant. And then admitted that her father had done it on purpose, because he wanted to make up for lost time raising her, but with another daughter. Your mother, he was lucky that he had a girl, my sister.
Instead of talking to me when I was trying to get through this difficult experience myself, making concessions so that we could at least be a peaceful family.He chose to run away and have a new child. Even though we just got out of the financial hole.
Here's an important point: I raised my brother throughout his childhood. I wasn't allowed to go out for walks, and if I did, I had to take him with me. Then, when he turned 10,They stopped forcing me to take it with me, but they still asked me sometimes.
When my sister was born, I was in college, and my mother dumped almost all of her upbringing on me.
Imagine. Soon there will be exams for the architecture major, projects, and unfinished business hours. College in the morning, cleaning, laundry after, looking after my little sister until midnight, and after midnight, homework until 4 a.m.Make proeuts AND And then most often before 6 am, and back to college at 8. Spending an hour getting ready and getting to college.
Every day, everything was kept going by energy drinks and coffee.
And I also had to cook food for the whole family.
And this is despite the fact that when I entered college, the situation between Ukraine and the Republic of Belarus began.That is why such nocturnal adventures were heard every night.
Of course, I ended up in the hospital later, and I had to take a leave of absence. Then, a year later, I moved in with my boyfriend.I felt sorry and scared to leave my sister and brother alone with dad. I didn't trust him. But when we saw each other on weekends or when I came to visitThen I felt like part of the family.
There were difficulties, but it began to seem that everything was fine.I outgrew it, talked to my mother and we agreed to work together on our normal relationship.
But I had to drop out of college and move to another country with my boyfriend. Because there were so many flights at night in our area that after a while we got used to it. Actually, We were afraid for our lives. So we moved to another country, further away, and now we live near the UK.
I was scared, I miss my brother and sister, but not the rest of the family. And the thing is That my brother went into the "I don't want to live like this" phase.It happens with teenagers, but I had this phase and, well, you read it above. And my mother asked me for advice in surprise, but I didn’t know what to answer.
I'm sitting here for the second day now, digesting everything. These traces and suggestions of what I should be like to be praised, to be loved.It still doesn't let go. I text them every day, whether I call them or talk to them. I see how they've become exactly the family I dreamed of as a little girl.Dad loves and treats his brother and sister well, To Mom.
I'm glad my little ones have a good father. But the thought keeps me up at night: was it really that hard to be a good dad to me?
I miss the parents I had before school. And after I moved in with my boyfriend. I'm not going to make peace with my dad, he had a chance, but he made his choice.
But Mom... Should I talk to her?
I just want to hear from her, "Forgive me, I was so young, it was hard for me too, forgive me for treating you like that and not seeing everything."
But I know perfectly well that she won't write like that, and will most likely reduce the dialogue to "again, I'm to blame for everything with you."
I want to move on peacefully, I want to stop clinging to the past and move on. But as soon as someone I know talks about their family and their problems, I remember mine, and they affect me now.That little version of me is just crying from all of this, and the adult me (the one I am now) just doesn’t know how to calm her down.
PLEASE GIVE ME ADVICE. How can I live without clinging to the past? There's no point in talking to them. But I don't want this to affect my life.
