I was raised by a mother who never received parental love, care, or affection. As a result, I never received it from her either. Although she always told me she loved me, it has never felt like the kind of love I longed for.

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According to the story she told me, her mother married at 18 but left the marriage when my mother was just one year and six months old. My mother was then raised by her grandmother, while her father remarried and started a new family. All his attention and resources went to his new family at my mother’s expense. She truly suffered and grew up almost like an orphan.

When she grew up and married my dad, they had two daughters. I am the oldest—five years older than my sister. I was raised like a soldier because my mother always said, “I am not always going to be here for you. You need to be prepared to take care of yourself and your sister in the event that I die.”

While my age mates were playing and enjoying their childhood, I was forced to grow up fast and mature early. She beat me more often than she showed me affection. My father wasn’t any better.

Every little thing, they would tell me to be grateful for the life I have. “I didn’t have it this easy when I was your age,” my mother would say. But the truth is, I was never happy as a child.

I could never talk to my parents about my problems, fears, or weaknesses without being insulted. My friends were always eager to go home after school but I dreaded going home.

When I was in boarding school, school vacations were especially painful—I cried whenever the school term ended. 

Despite my misery, my mother always told me I was blessed to have her as a mother, and that many people wished for a mother like her. I believe she is a good woman with good intentions, but the trauma and suffering she went through as a child left deep scars that made her toxic in some ways.

Because of my upbringing, I struggled socially. I had serious anger issues. It has affected so badly that now that I’m 33, married, with four children (three girls and one boy), I see myself repeating the same mistakes my mother made. I find it difficult to show affection to my children, especially my oldest.

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When we were dating, my husband used to complain about my behaviour, but after we got married and he got to know my family better, he understood where it came from. He has since stopped complaining and now tries to help me soften up. Lord knows I am really trying.

What I long for most is a loving home and a beautiful relationship with my children—a place where they can talk to me freely about anything without fear of judgment. I know I need therapy, but financial constraints won’t allow it right now. It keeps me up at night, and I constantly pray about it because I don’t want to be my mother.

Three Months After Our Breakup, He Got Married

While I’m struggling to be a warm and affectionate mother, I am thankful that my husband is very good with them. He is always pampering them. They are receiving from him exactly what I never got as a child from my own father.

I am happy for them but sometimes I envy them a little. This is a good thing. It means they have a childhood that I didn’t have. At least, I got that right. I landed a man who is a good father for my children.

—Carlie

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