I never knew my mum. According to my dad and my two older brothers, she walked out on us all for another man when I was only three years of age.
I remember as a child my dad only ever talking about my mum occasionally. And even when he did it was in an incredibly negative way. And this narrative was backed up by my brothers.
“As a child I never questioned this.”
They also never referred to her as mum. They would only ever refer to her by her first name, Jackie. As a child I never questioned this.
I was told by my dad that ‘Jackie’ was an alcoholic, a drug user, a serial cheater and that she was someone that did not deserve to be called a mother.
“I never questioned this narrative. Why would I?”
I never questioned this narrative. Why would I? This story was…
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