Pain

I haven’t written in 5 days. I think it’s because of the fact that I and my ex are officially over. Even when we tried to be friends, it didn’t work, though we both knew that. Today I called my mother; I haven’t seen her in the last 8 years, at least. I was really scared talking to her because when I last spoke to her, her response was, “What do you want?” She didn’t bother asking about my whereabouts or how I was doing. And that stuck with me. Recently, my 14-year-old brother has been wanting child support from her, but we only have her phone number, so we called. I thought he could be able to ask her straight up because he had anger for it. Instead, he was shaking, didn’t know what to say, and only responded to her. He told me to ask, and I took the phone. She asked how I was, and I said fine, and it was quiet. Then I just said it straight up. I said, “Were calling because we have never asked anything of you since the last few years that we haven’t seen you, and we want you to help us financially. My parents work hard, but with what they make, it’s hardly enough.” She said, “What do you want me to do? I am also working.” I said, “Well, I don’t know, send us a little bit of money at least; you forgot you had children here; we eat and clothe too; you had so many opportunities to come see us; you could’ve asked around and figured out a way to see us if you wanted to; you live so near us and yet you didn’t, and that’s your choice, and that’s fine; we’re still frustrated, but we just want you to help us.” She stayed quiet most of the time. It’s true. I might have sounded a bit harsh, but I was angry. She lives so damn close, and not once has she tried to reach out. She has two other children who were forgotten, namely me and my brother. Then my brother got the phone again, and he said, “Can I ask you something? Why haven’t you seen us? You’ve always lived so near us, and you never have come. The last time you said you were going to see me, you lied. I trusted your words, and you knew how much it would hurt me.” That broke me because my brother was crying, and it made me more angry. She blamed it on my dad, saying that he didn’t let her see us, but that’s a lie. She always lied and said she would pick us up, but she never did. We moved, and it was like it was convenient for her; she never saw us again. We ended up also not wanting to go with her. I later learned she never wanted to see us but to cause problems with my parents; she was the type to use us in order to get closer to my dad or get him to go to her. I don’t even know if she really loved me; she never showed it to me, and to this day, it still fucking hurts. It hurts so bad. I thought I was over her, but really, I’m not. I hate it more because I love her so much. I wish she would cradle me in her arms and tell me everything would be okay. I want to be able to call her “mom” again, and it hurts because she really just put us to the side. I miss her a lot, and talking to her affected me really hard, though it was easier. She asked if I was driving. I said yes. I wanted to tell her why she cared about it, since she wasn’t around for it. It’s a bit late to start asking about that. She has another child; apart from the older one, she has two children with her now. My brother said they were our replacement, which is not good because he’s just angry. She asked him for our address, but why does she want it? She doesn’t deserve to get to know us after everything she has been missing; she doesn’t get to see us just because we told her how we felt and we called her. We didn’t need her all these years, and we don’t need her now. It hit her that we’ve grown and can speak for ourselves and what we have noticed over the years. I wish I had my ex; he would’ve comforted me and told me it would be okay that I didn’t need to talk to her; he is my safe place, the person who I would tell these things to, and now I have to deal with stuff by myself. I mean, I guess that’s good; it’s the first step to being okay with myself. still hurts. I don’t know what to do—if I should let her see us or just ask for the stupid money—but if I let her in, it would be like going against my parents; they don’t deserve the problems I’m going to get them into. I hate this; I want her, but my parents know my anger and they know I would take her back, and they think I’m going to go against them, which I’m not. But they understand how we feel, and they know we are very angry with her, so we demand help. I don’t know what I got myself into.