You never miss what you never had – so why does it hurt so much?

Dead Flowers

Mothers Day should be a fun day filled with love but for many it is not.

I had a very difficult time yesterday, more so than any of the previous years as this year I truly understood just how much I have missed out on.

There has been an “awakening” of sorts during this last 12 months, it started with the realisation that I was not to blame for the abuse, followed by an awareness that those people who should have protected me not only failed me but failed catastrophically.

Mine is a very nuanced situation as I am not someone who suffered at the hands of abusive or narcissistic parents, they did not seek to deliberately hurt me for amusement but by virtue of being lost in the fog of their respective depressive illnesses they were indifferent to my apparent suffering and I, being a child at the time, did not know any other reality. The fact that I was a loner for most of my early adult life meant that it was some time before I realised there was an alternative to what I had experienced and now that I am aware I find myself mourning the loss of something I never had, something that has left a big, gaping hole in me.

What I felt yesterday can only be described as heartache, one that I was unable to escape from. I tried, REALLy tried but nothing soothed the pain yesterday, I felt grief stricken, isolated and foolish – foolish because here I was mourning for something I had never known, how is that even possible? Well apparently it is a very common feeling for survivors of childhood abuse or abandonment so at least I am not alone however I still feel like a fraud – so many people were posting about having afternoon tea with their inspirational Mothers or posting tributes to the Mother who is no longer alive but was the love of their lives and there was me, my Mother is alive and well but unreachable on an emotional level and I can’t help but feel that this is somehow my fault – that I have some kind of “malfunction” which means I am not lovable or capable of loving and that’s what hurts the most – what is that is wrong with me?

I almost wish there were something I could fix but the simple truth is that a depressive illness robbed me of a relationship with my Mother which resulted in me looking for love and affection in the wrong place with the wrong people which had horrific consequences that have cast a shadow over my adult life.


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