Jon
New Member
I don't usually post stuff about my family problems, but I just feel like I wanna speak out about this.
My mum divorced my dad in 1986, and since then she'd brought me and my brother up on our own. 5 years later, after a string of failed relationships, she met this guy, Ken.
Ken was the epitome of Mr Nice Guy. He'd do anything for anyone. At work (policeman) he was considered to be one of the best police officers on the force due to his commitment and determination. A model citizen, as some may depict him to be.
In 1994, he asked us all to move in with him, as his ex-wife had divorced him and left the house to go with another bloke, so we did.
Then the problems started.
At first it was what seemed little things; arguing over who put the car on the drive, why someone hadn't hoovered their room that day. Then it got progressively worse, to things like smashing plates because they weren't put away after being washed, or ripping up homework books because something as small as one part of a question hadn't been completed, etc etc.
Now, I don't know how and I don't know why, but I'd always thought there was something about him; like he was putting on a false front or something. I didn't want to say anything because we'd been happier than we'd ever been before.
My relationship with Ken was never good because of my reservations about him. He didn't understand why and he thought it was because I was jealous of him, so in 1995, he sent me to a child psychologist to find out. I could sense that my mum thought it was strange, but neither me nor her said anything.
Fast forward a little to spring 1996, and whilst at school, a PE teacher noticed not one or two, but 83 small bruises on my brother's legs. Social Services were called in, as the initial cause was thought to be Ken. My brother has never said who or what did them, but I made it clear that I had made my judgement. Obviously this stressed everyone's relationships and we moved in with my nan until we got a council house in summer 1997.
Relationships got a whole lot better for the next two years we were in the council house, but there were still arguments whenever he came round. In 1999, he asked us to move into a new house he'd just bought. When Mum asked me, I immediately said "No", but being the naive 15-year-old I was, she soon talked me round.
Now, here's the most serious part for me. Not a month after we moved in, but they were arguing again. Me and my brother were in bed, and I was instantly woken by the sound of my mum screaming and him shouting "you like it don't you, fucking slag?!". I went back to sleep crying, realizing the worst had happened. That next morning, I woke up for school and my mum was already downstairs cooking breakfast. I said to her "I know what happened and I'm gonna report it if it ever happens again". She told me to tell Ken, and I did, but he just said back to me "go ahead and report it, but it's none of your fucking business". Ever since that day, I've always had a deep hatred for him, even though I've tried to suppress it.
I'll summarize the next couple of years:
In September 2001, I went to university, and the minute he and my Mum left, I just smiled, cos I knew I'd gotten away from him.
Quick fast forward to February of this year, and he popped up again! If I wasn't close to hitting him when he took the piss out of Daniel dying, I nearly fucking killed him when I found out my mum walked in on him WITH ANOTHER WOMAN.
Right, now you all know a little of the history, I'll reveal the bugbear of this whole saga. After the other woman thing, my mum lived with my nan for almost 3 months.
The last time I was home, I explained my feelings to her. I basically said that I would support her in whatever she does, but if she ever, EVER goes back to him, I'll not go back to or contact the house, and she'll only see me at my nan's. She understood this, as she finally realises that my hatred for him won't go away.
Imagine my surprise then, when on Saturday I receive a phone call from my nan, saying that she'd gone back to live with him. To say I'm livid is a vast understatement, but what makes it worse is that my mum is now saying that I must ring her and she's very upset that I won't speak to her while she's there (which I really do understand), AND I have received a text message from Ken saying "Fucking grow up arse hole, u've upset ur Mum not me! Still jealous are we? Nothing to do with you so accept the situation."
That's all well and good for him, but what I'd really like him to explain is how in God's name I can accept this "situation" when it means me having limited contact with my own mother?!
I know it's self-imposed and there will be some of you who think that I am indeed being immature, but my opinion is that I'm almost 20 years old, and I have to stand up for what I feel whilst attempting to get into my mother's head the fact that "a leopard doesn't change his spots".
Sorry for the verbosity of this post; I am extremely angry right now and I just needed to get stuff off my chest.
My mum divorced my dad in 1986, and since then she'd brought me and my brother up on our own. 5 years later, after a string of failed relationships, she met this guy, Ken.
Ken was the epitome of Mr Nice Guy. He'd do anything for anyone. At work (policeman) he was considered to be one of the best police officers on the force due to his commitment and determination. A model citizen, as some may depict him to be.
In 1994, he asked us all to move in with him, as his ex-wife had divorced him and left the house to go with another bloke, so we did.
Then the problems started.
At first it was what seemed little things; arguing over who put the car on the drive, why someone hadn't hoovered their room that day. Then it got progressively worse, to things like smashing plates because they weren't put away after being washed, or ripping up homework books because something as small as one part of a question hadn't been completed, etc etc.
Now, I don't know how and I don't know why, but I'd always thought there was something about him; like he was putting on a false front or something. I didn't want to say anything because we'd been happier than we'd ever been before.
My relationship with Ken was never good because of my reservations about him. He didn't understand why and he thought it was because I was jealous of him, so in 1995, he sent me to a child psychologist to find out. I could sense that my mum thought it was strange, but neither me nor her said anything.
Fast forward a little to spring 1996, and whilst at school, a PE teacher noticed not one or two, but 83 small bruises on my brother's legs. Social Services were called in, as the initial cause was thought to be Ken. My brother has never said who or what did them, but I made it clear that I had made my judgement. Obviously this stressed everyone's relationships and we moved in with my nan until we got a council house in summer 1997.
Relationships got a whole lot better for the next two years we were in the council house, but there were still arguments whenever he came round. In 1999, he asked us to move into a new house he'd just bought. When Mum asked me, I immediately said "No", but being the naive 15-year-old I was, she soon talked me round.
Now, here's the most serious part for me. Not a month after we moved in, but they were arguing again. Me and my brother were in bed, and I was instantly woken by the sound of my mum screaming and him shouting "you like it don't you, fucking slag?!". I went back to sleep crying, realizing the worst had happened. That next morning, I woke up for school and my mum was already downstairs cooking breakfast. I said to her "I know what happened and I'm gonna report it if it ever happens again". She told me to tell Ken, and I did, but he just said back to me "go ahead and report it, but it's none of your fucking business". Ever since that day, I've always had a deep hatred for him, even though I've tried to suppress it.
I'll summarize the next couple of years:
- numerous arguments, resulting in me, my brother, and my mum moving in with Nan for a while.
- him begging us back, us going back, and the same cycle repeating;
- him having a car accident in late 1999, leaving him with a broken back.
In September 2001, I went to university, and the minute he and my Mum left, I just smiled, cos I knew I'd gotten away from him.
Quick fast forward to February of this year, and he popped up again! If I wasn't close to hitting him when he took the piss out of Daniel dying, I nearly fucking killed him when I found out my mum walked in on him WITH ANOTHER WOMAN.
Right, now you all know a little of the history, I'll reveal the bugbear of this whole saga. After the other woman thing, my mum lived with my nan for almost 3 months.
The last time I was home, I explained my feelings to her. I basically said that I would support her in whatever she does, but if she ever, EVER goes back to him, I'll not go back to or contact the house, and she'll only see me at my nan's. She understood this, as she finally realises that my hatred for him won't go away.
Imagine my surprise then, when on Saturday I receive a phone call from my nan, saying that she'd gone back to live with him. To say I'm livid is a vast understatement, but what makes it worse is that my mum is now saying that I must ring her and she's very upset that I won't speak to her while she's there (which I really do understand), AND I have received a text message from Ken saying "Fucking grow up arse hole, u've upset ur Mum not me! Still jealous are we? Nothing to do with you so accept the situation."
That's all well and good for him, but what I'd really like him to explain is how in God's name I can accept this "situation" when it means me having limited contact with my own mother?!
I know it's self-imposed and there will be some of you who think that I am indeed being immature, but my opinion is that I'm almost 20 years old, and I have to stand up for what I feel whilst attempting to get into my mother's head the fact that "a leopard doesn't change his spots".
Sorry for the verbosity of this post; I am extremely angry right now and I just needed to get stuff off my chest.
Jon
