Since I was a small girl, like 8 years old, I’ve been thinking about me giving love to a child. I never felt loved by my parents, especially my mum that was a stay at home. My father was working a lot all my young years, would wake up at 4:30 and live still before six. He would stay at the office until 9pm. Sometimes even longer. Now I think that he hated our house. My mum would sleep until 12, didn’t care for food or duties, never cared if we are on time at school.
I must have been 15 when I started puzzling how come me and my sister were so great at school and never created any problems. We were a+ students, engaged in so many different things, very creative. I also kept myself very busy with school and extra classes, leaving early and coming back pretty late to lock myself in the room to prepare for next day, study and do homework.
I loved my mum very much but the very same time I hated her. Nothing was ever done, she loved fighting and screaming. Never had food prepared, slept until noon and never kept the house in order. She would stay hours on the phone with her mother or pray endlessly. I especially hated the talking to herself part. She was also amazing with lying! Stories and pretending had no end and of course A her friends everywhere. It was a constant coffee time. She loves talking !!
She loved my sister and she hated me, would kiss her while beating me, did a lot to show that division. She would punish me the most for loving my father and for thinking of him as guru.
Now I think that so many things were established in my core that time.
I hate screaming, noise and mess. I never invite people over and even though I’m very friendly and easygoing I love to stay alone and I rather keep myself away from people. I’m highly submissive. There’s a sense of discipline inside me that only sleep can battle. I can go days without feeling hungry. I don’t feel cold or pain whenever I’m surrounded by people, my body switches completely off. I don’t share my life with anybody. Always wear that happy-I’m so fine - thank you mask. Always smile. I’m extremely helpful to other people to the point that I prefer to take problems on me than to listen that someone is struggling. I avoid everything that my parents are against of - including reading fantasy as for them is loss of time.
I also feel that I believe in god in the same way that I believe in my mother - I know she’s there but I know she will never take care of me or help me. I also feel the same of every friend I have or my classmates or now - people I work with - I knew that my mum loved me but she rather treated me as I was unworthy of anything, even unworthy of being her child - I guess I know that people like me but I am never sure if that’s true..
And the last one - need to love any kid in this world the way my mum never loved me. That horrible need started when I was tiny. I would give all my love to my teddy bear that I would be friends with. Then I wrote letters to my future daughters granting them love. Then I became obsessed with the words of my mum that my kids will hate me, that they will be born with no hands or legs, that no one will ever love me enough to give me child and that for sure my womb is empty (imagine my panic when I was 15 and still no period).
By that time I was dead inside me and I found great foundation that builds villages for kids with no parents. Each house has up to 10 kids different ages and one caregiver. It’s voluntary and takes at least five years but you can stay there forever and become their parent. I would watch documentaries about these villages and been thinking of it as my last hope.
Ten years later from that moment this idea of becoming parent one day, no difference if the kids would be mine or adopted, keeps me alive.
I really don’t want to live anymore and I begin to think that this idea of a baby is just fooling myself. I don’t really see any sense in living more. Last three years been just a set of disasters and growing problems. It’s a heartache, betrayal, debts, being used of other people and many more bigger or smaller wounds that I’m still not able to name. .
I don’t really see any purpose in prolonging it more. I don’t know what a life is for... I don’t know how to give myself some sense to stay.