I miss those days, having all those people around me. Having adults around at my house, talking with me about how I was and what had happened and did you have a good day at school? Did you learn anything new? Me and Jess C put some stuff in a test tube and it frothed all up over the top! I miss being around the people who cared about my welfare and brought me treats and sweets and pictures and memories and love. I didn't want it to end. My mom never cared about me like that and she said all those people just were in the way and it's been three years now I just wish this would stop and I'm stood at the bottom of the stairs thinking age 13 I hope it doesn't. She thinks it's over and I know it isn't.
I liked the way they seemed to know what I was thinking and how I felt and how damaged I was and how much I needed them, even if I didn't know it at the time and my mom told me I didn't and no-one told me my mom had bpd at that point because no-one knew apart from the relatives she never allowed me to see. And all the lies she'd told and all the things she'd brainwashed me to believe and here were people who actually loved me and showed me and helped me and supported me and tried to get me a therapist but mom wouldn't allow them because she thought there was nothing wrong with me a sexually abused child needs help mom she does and no amount of What happened to me was way worse than what happened to You negates that all abused kids need help and love but not your kind of love.
I miss those social workers, those police officers, those psychologists, my solicitor, the barrister, the little interview room when I was 11 and being taken out of school in a police car and feeling suddenly way more mature than any 11 year old ever did. 2 hours in a little interview room with a social worker who actually seemed to care for me.
I miss those people telling me here's how it's done here's what we will do don't worry everything will be fine we care about you we're here to help you you can ask us anything you want we love you in a way even though you're not our kid and we've seen hundreds before you. I miss them. I wish they would take care of me again. I didn't have anything to rebel against in my teenage years because I was already different and bpd mom rules are Do What I Tell You Ask No Questions And I'll Tell You No Lies. She cries when the dog is put down but can happily kick me out and burn all my clothes then tell me that she loves me no mom you don't love me. Those people who you said were just using us and more importantly me because I was the focus they loved me they loved me and they did their best to make sure I did my best at court and that I grew up in to a normal healthy adult but they failed because of you twisting my mind to believe things that weren't true. How dare you how dare you how dare you are not my mom I am not your daughter I belong to them.
And now I'm 20 but I still have that 12 year old need for love that you never gave that mollycoddling mommy love that mother daughter talk about boys those shopping sprees those petty arguments those cinema trips and all the things we never did together mom. All those things. I miss being taken care of and babied by those who actually gave a damn about me and helped me. Maybe one day maybe one day it will happen again.
