Reflecting

I had very good intentions of getting my story written here but life has a habit of getting in the way.  Different projects/hobbies have started up again such as writing knitting and having pets who are life savers.

My first 18 years on this planet were very average and I was very good girl not getting into trouble apart from the usual of maybe getting home late, fighting with my sister and so on.  This changed after getting into a relationship then splitting up around my 19th birthday.  It devastated me at the time as the  lad believed a lie told by his cousin and refused to listen to the truth.

Eventually I knew I was pregnant but didn’t tell the father as I was angry and hurting.  I kept quiet long enough not to be pressured into having an abortion although certain people who can’t defend themselves now would have disputed that.  My mother was furious, my father didn’t say much, and she was determined my baby would be adopted.  I refused to agree to that and wouldn’t discuss it.  My baby needed me not strangers, I already loved my unborn baby.

I still have moments when memories creep up on me suddenly that I force myself not to cry over.  My mother was so cruel yet I couldn’t talk to anybody as I didn’t think they would believe me.  Fear of my mother finding out scared me too much to talk to anybody as she would make me suffer emotionally and verbally behind closed doors.  I loved her but we just seemed to bring out the worst of each other yet in public it was the opposite.  It’s sad as we did have so much in common such as reading the same types of book, knitting, music, films, television and so on.  I lived for the happy times when we were all happy.