You’re so lucky
‘Your mum is the most wonderful person.’
‘Your mum has been so helpful; I don’t know what I would do without her.’
‘Your mum is the kindest person I have ever met; she would do anything for anyone.’
‘You’re so lucky to have a mum like her.’
When I was growing up everyone knew a very different version of my mum than I did. Our house was where all our friends would come. Mum made the best homemade chips wrapped in newspaper. She made up different words to popular songs. She always had chocolate in the fridge and she put on parties for the other parents.
She would be warm and welcoming, helpful and funny and silly.
It felt impossible to say to the people who thought my mum was wonderful that instead of racing home from school to be with her, I walked home as slow as possible with anxiety, fear and dread in the pit of my stomach, not knowing what would face me when I got there.
That when everyone left the house was so different and that every day I was filled with frustration, anger and loneliness. I finally got the courage to tell a teacher and they rang home to speak to mum.
‘Oh, she is just being dramatic, it’s just a glass of wine at night.’
I felt that no one would believe me if I tried to tell them. Who would believe a dramatic child over a wonderful mother? I would wish that just one person could see that behind closed doors it wasn’t the life people thought we had.