I've been browsing the board and realise that some background information may be needed before people can respond properly; I also realise that I don't know if my parents/family/ex-spouse/my children, or indeed myself, are "N's" (???) ... so here is some background info, (I'll try and keep it short) ... and I just hope that maybe I'll get some feedback that may help me at least understand and maybe cope better with the situation I am in.
I am 53; I was raised by my mother (the youngest of 6 by 10 years) my father having left when I was 5 yrs old. (My parents were not married; the first 4 kids were to my mothers legal husband the last two (thats including myself) were to my father ... I knew I was his daughter from an early age, but didnt realise that my "sister" was my real sister until I was in my thirties. (My sister was not told my father was also her father until he died (she was then in her mid twenties); she used to call him "Uncle".)
My father was never mentioned at home from the time he left; my "brothers" hated him. I always felt like the "odd one out" and felt embarrassed/angry/hurt/ashamed/stressed-out/ yet joyful (because I loved my dad) whenever my father visited me (three/four times a year)
I know my mother was a control freak; I was never allowed to say "No" to her, or anyone else, all the time I was growing up, and I got the feeling that she never really cared about me... but didn't want anyone else to have me either (ie.my father!) I always got straight "A's" in school/college which the family boasted about (I was the only one to go on to further education) but no-one ever took time out with me; I can't ever remember being hugged or told that I was loved. I guess I was mostly ignored/tolerated as long as I kept my mouth shut and did as I was told.
Years after my mothers death I realised that she also operated a divide and conquer routine with the whole family; it explained a lot of the rifts and feuding that sprung up!
I met my eventual husband when I was 16 (the first real boyfriend I had) and my father died 6 monthes later.
The relationship between my boyfriend (eventual husband) was turbulant from the start; an on-off affair mostly because of his taste for other girls behind my back. We eventually got engaged when we were both 19 ... and three monthes later he walked out on me (2 months before the wedding) because I was pregnant. Strangely enough, my mother stood by me, and helped me cope during my pregnancy and my sons first years (she adored him, and he always had a strong relationship with her)
My ex-boyfriend came back into my (and our sons) life 3 and a half years later, and we married a year after that. He was violent towards me 6 weeks into the marriage. I had our daughter 18 monthes later, while filing for a divorce because of my husbands violence and adultery. The divorce didn't happen; he talked me out of it and promised to reform; the good behavior lasted 2 years ... then the violence started again.
He was Jekyll and Hyde; when he was nice, it was idyllic, when he was nasty, I was terrified, being thrown downstairs, punched and locked out of the house more times than I can remember.
He drank to excess, had numerous affairs, and totally controlled my life/money/friends etc. .... but everything that happened was always "my fault" ... I "drove" him to it; I "nagged" him; I didn't clean the house properly; I didn't buy the right food ... nothing I did, however hard I tried, was right. He had a bad relationship with our son too; often calling him lazy, stupid, etc, but never being violent to him (over my dead body would I let anyone touch my children!)
An affair with a 16 year old girl, with a particularly bad beating from him (when our son was 10 and our daughter was 5 years old, and they both witnessed the violence) was the last straw. I left and divorced him. We lost our home, our car, everything.
My children, especially my daughter, were devastated; so was I (I thought I loved this man!)
Three years later (with no contact with either myself or our children during that time) my ex had an accident at work and was incapable of looking after himself ... I was contacted and took him in, looked after him .... and, to cut a long story short, we eventually got back together; I wouldn't re-marry him, (yes, he did ask) and we lived at my rented property for over two years. Again, it was idylic; we all got along great, a proper family at last ... until we bought our own house again .... as soon as we moved in, the worm turned right back into the despot! The "control" behaviour started all over again, and when I asked him "why?" I got told "my house, my money, my rules" By this time my mother had died, and I had broken ties with my family, moved 500 miles away from all that was familiar (a fresh start!) I had no-one to turn to for help. I tried to tough it out, but the violence started again, not at me, but at our now 16 year old son. It was horrific.
We left; my son tried to commit suicide the next day. He started getting in trouble with the police; he got his girl-friend pregnant, all within six monthes of the final parting.
My daughter was devasted; aged 11, she not only lost her father (who she adored) she lost her brother (who she also adored, who now moved in with his pregnant girlfriend) ... and we all (again) lost our home and possessions.
I was devasted; my confidence in myself was totally broken by this time. I couldn't believe how gullible I had been; to have disrupted my childrens lives, to have moved so far, to have been hood-winked into believing, yet again (!!!), that this man had any feelings whatsover for me or his children; to realise that all the short-lived "idylic" times were a lie, that almost my whole *married* life, and that of my children had been lived with someone who really DIDN'T care, that I had been so STUPID ... I wanted to die.
I vowed I would never have another relationship; I was just too stupid and naive to be able to trust my bad judgement again. (I've been out of that relationship now for nearly 17 years, and I've kept my vow.) I realised that my insistence on the right of my children to have their father in their lives had stemmed from my own childhood, my own longings for MY father; I realised that in trying so hard to make my relationship with my childrens' father work, I had done more damage than good.
I tried to mend our fractured family. I tried my best to support my son, his new wife and my new grandchild, and my grieving daughter. I tried to cope, but it was hard.
Within four years my health began to break down; and the relationship with my son started to deteriorate. He had started to become involved in petty criminal acts; he and his wife became secretive of their lives, one week welcoming me and my daughter, the next being aloof and distant.
To be with them was like walking on glass, similar to the relationship with my ex-husband; I couldn't seem to do right for doing wrong. I bent over backwards to please them, never interfering, trying with all my might to preserve some sort of image of family and unity between us, yet I was becoming increasingly despondent at my sons erratic, and downright nasty behavior.
Eventually (over a period of 10 years) I learnt that he was being abusive to his wife; he beat his children for the smallest infraction ... and finally, I found out he was into drugs/other violence/criminal stuff. I found out he had lied to me on numerous occasions, had used my home for criminal activity, and was telling my daughter and others that he had been beaten and treated badly "all his life" by both me and his father. (downright lies; even my daughter does not support his version of events)
I broke ties with my son, his wife and my grandchildren 4 years ago; I couldn't stand the mood-swings, the ego-trips, the two-facedness, the criminal stuff, the lies, the anger, the violence, or the way he treated my grandchildren, his sister or myself, any longer.
I am still hoping that he will one day return to the decent, caring loving 16 year-old he used to be ...... but I know deep in my heart that that is my own delusion, the same one that kept me returning to his abusive father all those years.
I've made a huge mess, not only of my own life, but of my sons', my daughters', and my grandchildrens' lives; how could it possibly have turned out so horribly, horribly wrong, when all I wanted for all of them was happiness and peace ... and a decent father?
