Two years later. Emptiness.

My girls were gone…

Another two years rolled by, with me battling with the courts, solicitors and mummy.  I could never understand how someone could just take your children away. I was not able to have quality visits with my girls because she still continued to be difficult. She would deliberately stop me from seeing my kids when it was my weekend.  I was loosing valuable time with my girls.  Its strange after so long, writing this very post creates the same tension I knew so well.

It was now four years since my mummy stole them, in the four years, I decided to try to occupy my mind, until I got them back, if I did. I decided to get an education. I didn’t know what else to do. The solicitors were dragging their feet, my case wasn’t exciting enough. After all what was my problem, my children were with their loving grandmother, and I was still a young mum  with three children.  

“You are so lucky, I wish my mum would keep my kids”, others would say..  People just never knew when not to talk

This was  a wrong assumption,  I wanted my girls  home desperately because they were mine,  I had  never hurt them, and certainly never neglected them. They had no father and therefore I didn’t have to share them;  but they were gone and there was nothing I could do but wait for the solicitors and the courts.  Mummy had taken my babies out of revenge, because I ran away from home.

Hear this!  I ran away because of the abuse, I wanted to be loved, I wanted praises, and a mothers touch, a kind word, communication, I didn’t want to be beaten, I wanted simple attention, but  I got nothing.  Today, sadly, I still ache for those things, I still wish I had those things.  It was hard for me everyday, as we live in a world, where I saw mothers with their children on a daily basis.

Instead my own mummy  had lied in court, behind my back. The courts didn’t investigate, they just handed over my children and discarded me like I was rubbish.  They never seeked me out. If they did they would have found, I was actually staying in mummy’s house, at the time if the court order.

Here, I was four years later still being abused mentally by mummy.  My girls were growing up in an environment, I tried so hard to get away from.

This would be the greatest effect on my life so far.

Every day, every hour, every minute, every second, I would think about the situation. I would try to dissect every minute of my time with mummy, how did she do it, when did she do it, why did she hate me? .

By this time my nightmares were much worse.(previous post).

This was because her friends in my nightmare were more demonic.  I would get up in the nights with cold sweats, staring in the corner of the room, thinking I would see mummy. The shadows on the wall would form faces, and I would watch them until the morning sky, would take them away.

One day I said to my best Friend. ” I would be  so scared if mummy died”  because I feel she would come back for me”. I recall my Friend said.  “I know, but I would make sure I stay with you all the time if that happened”. This was the comfort I needed in the storm.  Her words, would water down the fear that mummy would die, and somehow come back to me..

At other times, I would be washing the plates, and find myself  talking to myself,  asking myself questions, such as why was  I never informed that there was a case?, even though I had been living in her home.  This was plain evil, and my  loss was unimaginable.  My thoughts came and went, like waves on the sea. I would literally  and forcibly train my thoughts to stop!

After all I needed to remain sane, to win this fight.

D was still present in my life and to be honest he appeared to be on my side,  He thought my mummy was wrong  to steal my children.  He knew that my girls were my life even though he never said, but he would often remind me that she could never touch his daughter, Of course, mummy knew that too.  As usual though, I would feel sad when he said that;  I wanted the same form of protection for me and my girls.  D never showed me that side, and although he was less violent,  he was  still drinking heavily. His sexual desires was a big issue for me, I wanted to concentrate on my girls, the nights filled me with dread, and I use to sleep in the living room on the settee, with books around me to make out I was tired from studying.

All the vocabulary I had taught myself were assisting me to do better. I craved new information.  I joined the library, where my thirst for knowledge took a new turn.  There were books on law, I could take them home. Amazing!  I was feeding my mind, I started to read case laws, and custody, and court procedure.  I had something mummy didn’t have, my youth.  The library had opened new doors.image

I   was  learning fast, reading frantically,  I had learnt many new words  determination.  Perseverance, willpower,  I needed these words  now.  I became cold, and calculating, I was getting my girls and if not I would die trying.   D, started to notice a change, and although I would put up with his anger, I was doing it for my girls. I put all my effort into getting back my girls, as a result I  had no quality of life.

Many setbacks occurred, but I was becoming mentally, stronger.

One day, I received a letter…Despite the fact that mummy had the children,  every week I would cash the child benefit, and hand it over.  It was all I had left of them.  The final insult came when I  received a letter from the benefit agency to say all benefit would be transferred to mummy’s name.  She was now  trying to adopt my children permanently.   What?  For a split second as I re-read the letter, a lump rose in my throat and I wanted death to come quickly.  But I thought of my childhood, and I knew that couldn’t happen. My girls needed me.

In desperation, I started to think of the curse, the gypsy woman said was on me.  I must be cursed I thought.  “Why  was all these bad things happening  to me”. and if I was cursed, who did it”. I thought of my step mother “could it be her”?  “Why would  the gypsy  say that to child” maybe her words were true. (previous post) The gypsy woman’s words had come back to haunt me.

Adoption,  in my reading I knew that if mummy was successful in adopting them, my girls would be gone forever.

What do I do now? I thought.  The situation had gone out of control…



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