Coming to terms with my sexualityĪs I began to move into secondary school, the feelings that I was different grew stronger and I struggled a lot with my sexuality.ĭesperate to fit in and not be the ‘weird adopted kid’, I had girlfriends. I began to make friends at school and felt settled in my life. Younger life then began to settle into holidays, days out and the ‘normal’ family life. We were given a second chance, but my birth mum and birth dad were always in my mind. It wasn’t easy, as we both came with a lot of emotional baggage, but our new parents worked extremely hard to ensure that we spoke about our past and were a very open family with the best chance in life we could have. We met them a few times and eventually began to spend weekends and weeks with them.Įventually we moved in with them, and their two cats. When you have been passed around a lot as a child, you just think it’s another move into another home. I remember not really understanding what that meant. Some were good, healthy places and others were the type that you read about in the papers today. We continued to move through various foster parents and children’s homes. This was the last we saw of her, and I remember the pain and tears of being torn away. Very little explanation was given, but we had one hour with her to play and take photos.Īfter this time, they literally took us away and at that age, it was hard to understand why you are not allowed to see your mother again. Social services eventually decided to split us up but thankfully, this decision did not result in us losing each other.ĭuring this period, we still had supervised visits to my mother and by the age of about four or five, she had fallen pregnant again with my sister.ĭuring one of these visits, we were taken into a room before meeting our mum and told that this would be the final time we would see her. We were moved into a variety of foster homes, all with the hope that we may be eventually adopted into a new family.īecause we were two boys, it became difficult to find us adoptive parents who wanted two children.
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This all occurred within the first three years of my life. It was decided that she could not cope and my brother and I were taken into foster care.
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But the relationship broke down and I moved with my mother to London, where she became pregnant with my brother.īy this point, she was struggling to cope and had developed a strong drug and alcohol addiction, which at times, put my brother and I in dangerous situations. (I used to live there, so I know the situation.) The oldest and youngest have said multiple times they wished they lived with me, while I try to explain to them that they can’t be too picky about food.My mother was around 17 when I was born in Glasgow in 1982 and my father was roughly the same age.įor the first year of my life, we lived as a family. I hate reading how the kids are hungry and ignored, and waiting for the week to finish so they can come back to their father.
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While I disagree-because he can talk to the mother, and offer help-if she isn’t getting the mental health treatment she needs, and needs more time off, then my brother should have full custody. I have spoken to my brother about this, and he says there is nothing he can do. I am frustrated because they constantly text me that they are hungry I know they are picky, but their mom has a “there’s food right there” attitude. She doesn’t feed the children-while they aren’t babies anymore, they aren’t teens either. While I am just the aunt, I worry for the children’s wellbeing, as their mother is chronically depressed (treatment with no therapy, for as long as I’ve known, more than 10 years).
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Worried aunt: My brother is divorced, for two years now, they have 50/50 custody. He constantly makes me feel lesser than and stupid. He does things that upset me and when I call him out, he acts like I’m causing a scene and being a “crazy and annoying girlfriend.” He treats me like a child, when I am in fact two years older AND I pay for everything (he makes more money than I do, by the way) and constantly cater to him. He even does this in front of his friends.
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He turns everything into an argument and then twists it on me like it’s my fault. We also can’t talk about anything-I love to converse and debate about things for fun, and I also believe in talking out our feelings and compromising to have a healthy relationship. I mean, I’ve got nothing on these other women. I don’t know how he expects me to be perfectly okay after cheating on me and making me feel worthless. We argue because he’s emotionally distant, and after being cheated on multiple times, I need a lot of reassurance from him. Apparently I stress him out and we argue too much.