I’m 29 and a half years old.
For most my life, I’ve had to endure a mother who constantly called me names, a step-dad who assaulted me, grandparents who called me a Portuguese-piece of shit and the rest.
At almost thirty, I’ve grown tired of the constant cycle that involves my mother.
Her abuse, physical, emotional and mental is a trigger for a lot of my anxiety and honestly, I’m much calmer and rational when she’s not involved in any part of my life.
Two years ago, I visited and stayed with my mother. I had lost an auntie a week before and I wasn’t in a good place at all. I needed to disappear and believed that being with her would help.
The weekend was a disaster.
We got into a row and she told me that God sees everything and that was why my Portuguese family are so unlucky. My aunt is Portuguese. My nan, who raised me after I turned 16, is also Portuguese.
I ended up shoving my mum. I didn’t hit her. I didn’t punch her. I shoved her.
Two weeks ago, she decided to tell her side of the family. The Spanish side who often referred to me as a Portuguese piece of shit from the age of four.
Of course, she told her side of the story.
I hadn’t realised that this had been brewing all the way in Spain so on Spanish Mother’s Day, I called my nan to wish her a lovely day.
What was I met with?
Well… here’s a snapshot (all quotes, may I add)
- You’re a liar
- You have no respect
- Don’t ever visit or call again
- We never loved you
- You’re a Portuguese piece of shit
- Your nan is a whore (the one who raised me when my own mother kicked me out at 16)
- Fuck off
I can’t begin to tell you how badly this affected me.
For two days, I cried until I felt sick. I barely ate and I felt myself going back into a very dark, lonely place.
Fact, this was all my fault. Not for shoving her (which some might argue was wrong) but for thinking she would change. For telling her about my aunt – knowing damn well that she would spin it into some evil story/anecdote for her own gain.
I made a promise to myself that I would never let her or that side of the family back into my life.
No matter the tears and the reminiscent texts of “oh, look at how cute you were” photos.
Sometimes, family is just a word.
I’ve received more support from therapists, friends and even Twitter.
I would rather have a small group of people in my life who are genuinely there for me, who understand and who love me than force a group purely down to our DNA.
Toxic people are just that. They’re toxic.
They bring you down, bit by bit.
You’re better than that.
Let go of the toxic people in your life. It’s okay to be selfish and put yourself first.
Make you happy.
You’ll thank yourself for it one day.