| WISH MY MUM WAS DEAD

Laura* a mother herself, reveals the story behind her darkest wish

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Scrolling on Instagram, I was drawn to a picture of a woman posing with her mum. They shared the same red hair, and noses kissed by summer freckles. Laughter poured out of their beaming faces. It was clear that the two adored each other. I felt a sting of despair as my mum was dead.

The soundtrack to my childhood wasn’t 80s songs, but doors slamming, things breaking or my mum wailing for hours. My dad eventually took a job abroad, leaving me to shoulder Mum’s needy and explosive emotions alone. Before he’d visit, she’d start an argument, leaving me so hurt that I’d stay in my room to avoid her. It meant that I spent no time with my dad, and that stung. I vowed that when I had kids I’d never isolate them like that.

LIMITED FREEDOM

I did everything right to limit why Mum could be mad at me. Top grades at school, a part-time job and only friends who she approved. But she resented me going out or working. While my friends went to the cinema, parties or sleepovers, I rationed my social life to appease Mum.

Not that it worked. She was a rattlesnake, coiled and ready to strike. When she screamed in my face, I wasn’t allowed to speak or show emotion. She’d shout things at me like, Shut your mouth, Don’t you look at me like that, Don’t you dare sigh.

Throughout my childhood, I was afraid of my mum, studying her face to try to predict when she was about to explode into a rage. She was never physically violent but I never understood the ferocity of her outbursts, why I was being punished harshly for so long or why I had to do endless housework for my messy mum and wasn’t allowed to rest.