The Day My Mother Broke My Heart

I remember it vividly.

I'd been home for a few days, after visiting my dad, and was in my bedroom with the door securely locked.

As usual the radio was playing and I was singing along to my favourite songs. A teenage girl enjoying alone time.

Then it happened - my mum's voice boomed from the bottom of the stairs.

My heart leapt into my throat.

"Oh god, what have I done now?" I thought.

I unlocked the door and leaned over the banister. "What?" I snapped.

My dad was on the phone. I bounded downstairs with a smile on my face, took the phone from my mum and greeted my dad with a cheery 'hello'. 

He wasn't cheery.

He said he needed to ask me something and wanted me to be honest. My heart started to pound, my palms got sweaty. I wracked my brains to work out what I might've done wrong. 

The words he said next shook me to my core and as tears welled in my eyes I listened. He'd been talking to my cousin, he'd read her diary. 

My secret was out.

Tears escaped and trickled down my face. My mum saw me crying and asked what was wrong, I ignored her. My secret was out, everyone knew. It was all I could think about. But mum wouldn't let it go, I was on the phone to dad, crying, so she wanted to know why. 

She started yelling, screaming at me. 

Under her screams I heard my dad say "Is it true?" and I whispered 'yes' into the phone.

Mum continued to scream and all I wanted to do was retreat to my room, lay on the bed and sob.

Dad could hear her and told me to hand the phone to her. I did and took my chance to escape.

I ran up the stairs, hurried into my bedroom and locked the door behind me. My music back on I laid, face-down, on my bed using a pillow to muffle my sobs and soak up the tears.

A few minutes later someone pounded on my bedroom door and with red, sore eyes I got up and opened the door. It was mum and she'd spoken to dad, he'd told her what I said.

The screaming started again. 

Words like 'liar' and 'slag' came out of her mouth, all directed at me. 

I couldn't believe it. One of the reasons I'd wanted to keep it a secret was because I thought no one would believe me. Why would they?

But I thought at least she would stand behind me. She was my mum

The phone rang again and mum stomped down the stairs, the house shaking as she did. I could tell by the way she answered the phone that it was dad again. She shouted, calling me a slag, and told me he wanted to talk again.

I took a deep breath, wiped the tears from eyes, and went downstairs. Dad was checking I was okay, I said I'd be fine.

After years of keeping my secret I'd become accustomed to hiding my feelings. I'd locked away my heart, built a huge wall around it. While downstairs in the company of people I could stop my tears, hide my pain and carry on as if nothing was wrong. 

On the inside I was dying.

I knew my secret would come out eventually. I knew that people wouldn't believe me and was prepared. 

I wasn't prepared for being called awful, derogatory names by my own mother. Each name was like a dagger to my heart and eventually there were more daggers than heart.

In the space of an hour my mum had gone from someone I thought I could trust to the one person I would never trust. 

Over the years my experience with my mum has affected my relationship with other women. I've found it hard to make close female friends, I guess somewhere deep down I was afraid they would turn their back on me just like she did.

When I do make friends I am a loyal friend for life. I am there for them when they need me, I would stick by them through the hardest of times. Even if I haven't seen the friend for years they could stop by my house and be welcomed with open arms. 

I will be the woman my mother wasn't. 

I will nurture, care for and stand by the people I love.

No matter what.

Brilliant blog posts on