False parents (16.03.2003 - 5:23 a.m.)
I guess I should put a couple of more meaningful entries in this diary, rather than merely regurgitating the events of each day as it passes. Today my topic of choice is my parents.
When I was almost 4 years old, my mother left my father, and moved from Glasgow to Cumbria. Throughout my life since then I haven't liked my father, mainly as a result of him kidnapping me for 3 months when I was 5. He became an alcoholic, he smokes heavily, and seemingly made my life more unpleasant. I can honestly say I hated him, but suddenly everything makes sense to me.
Of course my dad isn't blameless - he made some stupid mistakes that are hard to forgive - but when you look at the circumstances it becomes apparant that he was just trying to do the best thing. For 14 years I believed he was a schemeing, manipulative man - and perhaps he is - but he's not an evil man. The real villain here was my mother. My mother was useless, and things I had forgotten about my childhood, for whatever reason, had stopped me from realising this. Don't get me wrong she's still a bitch and I've never really liked her.
She is a useless mother. My sister moved away when I was 4 when she was 16. I never really knew why, my mother led me to believe it was for some selfish inconsiderate reason, and because she moved so far away I have never had chance to talk to her properly about it. However, I had a conversation with her on the phone not long ago and it unlocked a few memories.
For a start, the reason she left was because she was having to look after me, because my mother couldn't be bothered. She'd be taking me to school in the morning before she went to school making her late. She'd be looking after me and my brother all night while my mother went to the pub and didn't come home. She'd be taking me to the park, she might as well have been my mother.
At this point my mother was starting to become blind (she was hit on the head by a freezer lid in a supermarket and it detatched one of her retinas). She still had good sight in one of her eyes, but for some reason this prevented her from doing any washing of clothes. I had to do this myself from the age of 5. We moved in with my now stepfather who to say the least, is a small minded, short tempered, intolerant ignoramus. He didn't do anything for me either other than cooking meals.
This is why my dad kidnapped me, he was trying to get me away from that situation. It wasn't the most sensible thing to do admittedly, and he could have gone through court to try and get custody instead, but he wasn't a well man. He had crohns disease (basically a hole in his bowel) that caused him great pain. Due to this he started drinking a lot of alcohol to numb the pain. He kidnapped me to try and make my life better. He was trying to do the best thing, I'd just never seen it until recently.
So I spent 14 years thinking my dad was a bastard when infact he was trying his best. As it turned out my mother and stepfather turned up one day and took me back. Whilst waiting the train to leave the rail traffic police came on and took us into custody. My parents couldn't come to an agreement as to who I should go home with so the decision was left to me, a 5 year old child. I couldn't really have made a right decision. If I'd stayed with my dad I'd have had to live with an alcoholic and probably been neglected too. But I chose my mother because my brother was still living with her.
It's hard to explain, there's so much I haven't mentioned, but they're things I can cover another time I suppose. But it sucks, and I hate my mother.