These two subjects are going around my head this week, along with many tears of grief.
The male parent said Mum didn't love me. So I'd ask why she didn't just let me live with him then. He said it was because she wanted to control me.
I believed it. I believed pretty much everything he said for years because he'd got in there first and she never defended herself (but she also didn't understand or know what was happenening, so she didn't know that she SHOULD have defended herself or that there was even anything to defend herself against). Every time she told me off - which is what happens to all kids! - her reprimands bounced off a mind that had been filled with hate: hate from her towards me, hate towards her from him via me, hate for myself because I was so hideous my mother didn't love me. I was so angry and thus I was horrible.
But his arguments were specious, though I didn't understand. I accepted what he said because I trusted him. Now, today, I can't remember why I trusted him, but as a seven year old I did. It made no sense to me that she kept me despite not wanting me, so I asked him about this often. He continually said she only wanted me so she could control me, that she wanted control over my sister and me and him, that she just wanted power and control. It made no sense whatsoever but it was all I had to go on.
What an ugly, damaging thing to tell your own child: that your other parent is capable of evil and that they actually want to inflict that evil on you. There is no love in this.
I understood so little, almost nothing. My mind was blank and innocent until it was filled with the anger, hatred and bitterness of a grown man.