I hope you read this. That you’re still poring over my blog page for scraps of information. Ammunition to take to my dad, grilling him as to why he hasn’t kept you fully briefed on ‘your’ daughter. Tid bits that allow you to continue to play the role of doting mother to your adoring public. You love that don’t you? Even when we aren’t speaking it filters back to me, how you’ve been telling the staff at our local supermarket all about my fight and how you’re doing your best to support me. To get me through. Snippets about my life learned second hand, through my poor dad or the Internet.

Why doesn’t he tell you more? I’ll tell you why. Because I’ve told him unequivocally not to. I’ve snarled and bristled when talking about our history. I’ve sobbed to him over hurts you’ve caused me time and time again. I’ve begged him to close the window you have on my life. Because I’m done. So so done. This time I mean it.

Why has it come to this? How did we get to here? That I can’t even look at my mum, mam, my mammy?! Alienated from my siblings thanks to the wedges you began drilling between us from before my memories even start. How did we come to this, when I thought you were my best friend? The one I could confide in always. The person I woke up after long shifts on my feet so I could share all the events of the evening. The mum who brought me a change of clothes when I ripped my Christina Aguilara jeans on a night out, then joined me to dance the evening away; knowing I was years too young but trusting the morals you’d instilled in me. The woman who threatened the school bully with a baseball bat after she burnt my hand purposefully at a guiding event. I’ll never forget the look of fear in her eyes when you reminded her you live next to the school gates, own a hefty baseball bat, and will defend your children as far as is needed. She towered a good foot over you, but she never so much as looked at me wrong again; her rain of terror was over.

It wasn’t all bad. That’s what’s made it so hard for me. Kept me coming back, a glutton for punishment. Time makes the bad memories fade away and keeps the good ones in a golden haze. It must be some kind of human preservation, but all it has ever done for me is keep me trailing back to the hurt our relationship causes me. Because even in the best of times, when we had long summers at our caravan and you smiled out from behind your large rimmed Dierdre glasses; in high school when you let my friends treat our house like it was their own, or all those holidays I remember your perm and that funny clown tshirt you loved so much. Even then something dark ran through our relationship. You must know it? I loved you so much I didn’t realise, I’ll always love you.

Things really started to change as I got older. Stopped agreeing with everything you said and started questioning. Started becoming my own person. At the same time, I started becoming ill. Not that we knew it. Not that we knew the lifetime of hell my body would face. Back then to you I was just a lazy teenager and you sure let me know it! I’ll never forget the day I didn’t do the pots soon enough for your liking. ‘You’re a lazy worthless little cow!’ Just inches from my face. These outbursts were regular, set off by anything it seemed. Do you remember saying those things to me? At thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. You must remember this one, you still use it now ‘I love you, but I don’t like you very much’. A barb that still catches at my heart, stinging when my daughter tells me she doesn’t like me, she loves me! Meant as a compliment but bringing up years of hurt.

You may not remember all this. But I do. My friends do. The friends who witnessed you grinding down at my confidence. Who saw my sister following suit. Saw her thinking it was ok to tell all the boys I was FRIENDS with I was a slag and would screw anyone who paid an interest. Fifteen and a virgin (save for the guy who doesn’t count because I didn’t say YES) and my sister is offering me out like the local whore. My friends who witnessed me agonising over who my father could be, after the story I’d been fed all my life was flipped on its head. When my sister rung and called me a bastard child. Which I forgave. Forgave the times she threatened me. The times she let her father laugh and sneer in my face. Forgave all the shit she gave me for sticking up for you. Forgave until she threatened me one last time, in front of my daughter. My four year old daughter and my niece. Yet still I love her too.

Because, through all that, I still thought you was my best friend. When you messaged me during my first weeks at uni, telling me how I’d ruined your life and you needed pills to get over me moving away. When you would flit between myself and my siblings; telling tales and causing arguments so you could choose a side and enjoy the battle. When every single time I stuck up for myself I heard the same thing ‘I’m such a bitch, it’s all my fault. You’re breaking my heart!’ Even when I merely repeated the words you’d stated to me back and asked why you said them, even then I was still made to feel in the wrong. I still believed what we had was a normal mother daughter relationship.

Friends, partners, councillors and psychologists have all tried to steer me away from the clusterfuck that is our maternal bond. My psychologist literally begged me not to step back towards the black hole I’m sucked into whenever we are close. But I couldn’t stay away. Sometimes a month. Sometimes a year. Sometimes longer. There was always a time I’d open the doors and let you back in. Hoping beyond hope that things would be different. That the good times that shine so vividly in my head would return. That you’d be my mum, loving and unconditional; not holding your affections over me like a noose around my neck. It never happened.

If anything things got worse each time. Especially now my brother lives at home. You have the prodigal son to form a symbiotic relationship with. To entwine your lives together and rely on each other wholly. That’s what you wanted of me. To rely on you and bend my life to your requirements. To earn your love, a love that should always just have been freely given. Something I began to realise when I became a mother myself. When I heard that voice in my head telling me time and time again that I will not only slather my children in love, no matter their choices in life, but remind them how likeable and wonderful they are each day as best I can. To instil them with a confidence your years of degrading comments sucked from me. Comments about my singing voice sounding like nails on a chalk board. Comments about my ugly spotty back in the ballgown I loved. Comments about me not trying hard enough to battle my illness, when I fight it with all I’ve got each day. Using my ill health and the way I cope with it as another stick to flog me with.

The question remains, why am I laying this bare? Why am I opening up the most upsetting aspect of my life and spreading it bare for the world to see?

Here’s why.

It was the day you wouldn’t allow my children and I to come visit. Instead leaving me to struggle with a one year old and a cold wet garden. I asked you one last time. Treat me as an equal. Treat my kids equally. Stop placing my daughter on a pedestal above my boys. Stop painting me as the black sheep of the family. Treat me like I’m your daughter, no more than my siblings; but no less. Don’t come to me stoking the flames of drama between me and my brother, don’t allow his petty sensibilities stop my kids being able to come see you at Christmas and Mother’s Day, in the house I grew up in. Treat us equally, or leave us alone. I didn’t want my kids ever feeling a second of the emotions I’ve felt my whole life. You chose to walk away, branding me a trouble causer for even asking. For promising with that offer to always be pleasant and polite with my siblings should I see them in your home; as I would be in front of my children anyway. Telling anyone who would listen how out of line I was for asking and how I need to apologise.

I don’t need to apologise. Not to you.

The only person I need to apologise to is my daughter. The poor little girl who witnessed your ugly outbursts more than once. Who has had you dip in and out of her life at your leisure. Who has been taken out for the day then returned home to me within an hour, because her behaviour was SO terrible (my daughters worst days are angelic compared to many children and that’s no exaggeration). Who I had to console and dry her tears when you blurted out that you’d never come to our house and see her again, because I wouldn’t bend to whatever it is you wanted of me at that time. She was three, late for school because I had to calm her after she begged grandma not to dessert her. Which you always did. Whenever we fell out you’d disappear from her life for months on end, despite the fact I never kept her from you.

Never until now.

The worm has well and truly turned. The night you refused my offer of a normal loving relationship was it for me. I saw my children’s heartbreak and upset laid before me and I put a stop to the cycle. Full stop. That was months ago. But yet again you’re starting to try and worm your way back in. Not for love. But for control. For ownership of YOUR daughter, YOUR grandchildren. Well it’s not happening. My daughter is still young enough to forget any upset you put me through. My boys will barely remember you, if at all. I’m ending this cycle and I’m doing it publicly in the hope that it really rams it home.

Leave us alone. You are not part of my family anymore, nor are you part of my children’s. It’s over. 

Of course I’ll still cry myself to sleep some nights. I’ll lay on hospital beds wishing I had my mammy to comfort me. But let’s face it, that’s just a daydream. The relationship I thought we had was never real.

30 thoughts on “Dear Mother.. 

  1. I can empathise completely two years ago I stopped hoping for the relationship to change nothing would ever be different do not go back it will always end up the same story we are worth more for ourselves and our children embrace motherhood and let the chain be broken

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Clearly you are going to keep harassing me, regardless of the fact that I have marked your previous comment as spam. I suggest you learn about the NGS and its limitations. Feel free to look at my fundraising Facebook page, in fact I’m sure you have. There you will see scans and letters. All proving I am legitimate. This blog is NOT about my fundraising. In fact my blog page is NOT LINKED to my fundraising page. This is because my blog is about life with disability and I only wanted my readers to follow the fundraisers should they wish. For your information. The scan I have had cost £1250. My doctors appointment to read the scan was £165. London travel with me and a carer is minimum £80 train plus taxis or subway. (Difficult and sometimes impossibly dangerous). The physio appointment (as my neck is so damaged only the best can touch it) was £195 first appointment. £128 all subsequent appointments. I have been staying over in London due to the travel taking so much out of me. The hotels I’ve stayed in have cost LESS than £60 (you can imagine the quality that gets you in one of the most expensive areas of London to be local to the hospital). That has come out of my own funds. With the fundraisers and the kind Church donation I have enough funds left for one more trip. Regardless of the fact that it takes over a week of recovery (even with a stop over or being driven) after the travel, I’m going to try to go there and back in one day. Valentine’s Day. With a caring friend, not my husband. The physio wants to see me 2 weekly. My body and funds can only take 3 weekly. After the next appointment my funds have run out. Gone. I don’t beg. I have asked if people want to help. But I’ve also held regular bake sales. Almost killed my self preparing and attending these and a fundraising night. That night my neck was in full spasm and I was in agony. But still attended. Im hoping to run and attend fundraisers. But most days I’m now bedbound. The physio has capped my step count. It will be bad for me to be on my feet above that. Im doing my best. I have more tests needed, the IFR have already written and stated they will not be likely to find those. I’m begging nhs neurosurgeons to see me. But if they’re not well versed in EDS they’re more likely to kill or paralyse me than help me. So it’s not looking promising. In which case I’ll need to pay privately for that too. So LOTS more fundraising. If you don’t understand google Craniocervical Instability. Dr Gilete. Medserena upright mri or even Melanie Heartshorn (pos spelled differently) who had a news channel follow her down a similar path to mine. The nhs does not cover everything. It never has, but even less so now. So I’m doing my best to fight for the ability to live a closer to normal life. Not for me. If it were for me it would be easier to take all my meds and be out of this pain. I fight for my children and husband who I literally love more than life itself. Now please, leave me alone.

      PS the kennel were v understanding and told us how impressed they were with our dogs health. They also stated their dogs never wear collars in the home either. He is now fully chipped and registered. You have no need to keep harassing me. I told you at the time, life slipped. But we are doing our best.


  2. No one says you was lying about your illness but stop shaming people into giving you money. Easy to see your FB posts and comments all over the place. Constant asking. Angry because people didnt give. Starting fights everywhere. Tell your husband to get a job. Other sick people manage at home whilst husbands work


    1. I have no idea where you’re getting these ‘angry’ posts from. But I am never angry at people for not giving. My only upset has been over your harassment of me. My husband had a very well paid job, thank you very much. But unfortunately as I collapse without warning and now even need help with bathing and bathroom needs most days, he has had to leave work and become my carer. Funnily enough I also worked. I went to university. I did college etc before hand. Worked all through. Until the Doctors and the job centre and anyone else who could told me not to. To stop as it wasn’t safe. If you are referring to my upset on the post about my dog. I wasn’t angry, I was upset. I was explaining why we forgot to get him chipped. Because life went crazy. I was distraught at the loss of my dog and the worry we couldn’t get him back. All you’re showing with this comment is your complete lack of understanding of how different disabilities affect people differently.


      1. collapse without warning? hows it you go out, drive and wander about London? you load up FB with pictures of your outings. hard to believe youre so sick when people see that. then talk about disappointed you are people didnt hand over their money for your fundraiser. thats wrong. And I dont know what youre talking about with a dog but youre going to keep on doing what youre doing. its sad. ill leave you alone but you should stop bothering others to give give give. looks like I struck a nerve but Im done. keep criticising others and think youre above it all hun


      2. Who exactly are you? You hide behind your keyboard insulting people but, unlike myself, don’t show your real name. I have POTS. Postural Orthostatic Tachchardia Syndrome. Postural meaning it only affects me on standing. I have had test after test to ensure I’m still safe to drive. But I do it less and less now. Because it hurts. My legs also now go from under me, due to my cervical spine issues. Again, on standing. Hence the reason I needed an UPRIGHT MRI as my symptoms don’t show on supine ones. My physio is in London. My scan was in London. My specialist appointment is in London. Funnily enough all the best doctors tend to centre around the capital. Honestly I thought you was just a bitter person who was pissed at me for forgetting to get my dog chipped. But it seems you’re much worse. You’re someone who has a weird need to follow my every move.

        Just so you are aware, I have always made it clear in my fundraising that I’m not only raising money for the tests etc. But for travel expenses. I cover the taxis, food and subway out of my own funds. You’ll also notice whilst I’m ‘swanning’ around London my friend Nicola is my constant companion. Catching me when my legs go. Literally forming a human barrier in case I tumble down an escalator. Pulling me up when I need to sit down on one as standing is too much. Comforting me as I cry in pain and despair.

        Yes, I get feelings of anger. Of why me? Why are people more interested in raising money for a poo being thrown out of a window than for helping people in my position? Not just myself. But the hundreds of us. That stems from pain and fear. I was incredibly grateful to those who came to the fundraiser. They were amazing. I wasn’t upset about people not giving money. I was upset that people who promised to attend didn’t. I didn’t even want to charge an entry, I was advised to. I’m new to all this and learning as I go. I’ve said all along that I don’t expect people to give what they cannot. But a share to raise awareness of what’s going on. Or just a chat to learn what’s REALLY happening, would be nice. I get upset when I am made out to be a bad person simply for doing my best.

        The only place I went in London was my first trip. My friend convinced me to go to Winter Wonderland to take my mind off my appointment the next day. I went. Saw the pretty lights. Bought a pork sandwich. Entry was free. I try to see the beauty in things. So I take lots of photographs. Because I need to stay positive. If that offends you, that’s your problem. Not mine. Feel free not to message this page again. I know why I’m fundraising and why it’s important. Those who know and love me do too. That’s what’s important. If I didn’t have emotional outbursts when going through something so scary and huge, I wouldn’t be human.


      3. so dangerous for you to be walking and your legs go out ‘constantly’, why wouldn’t a physio order a wheelchair? if youre constantly collapsing and may harm yourself. doesnt sound very responsible. falling and hitting your head or breaking something means you cant be there for your children. does sound like you have an excuse and an answer for everything. why do you make so many excuses? if youre fine with what youre doing why do you keep writing long answers to me? delete my posts. go on with your life and ask for money without shame if you feel thats what you should do.

        or shall we keep going? you like to argue obviously


      4. I like to explain the truth behind the situation. FYI I do have a wheelchair. But oh don’t use it, you lose it. If I don’t struggle on with my mobility then I will be stuck in a wheelchair. If I don’t keep my legs strong my POTS will worsen. I suggest you look into these illnesses you believe you know so much about before making yourself look more uneducated.

        Of course I feel upset at having to fundraise for my treatment. But the treatment isn’t available for free and I have no choice. When someone is slandering me I will respond, with the truth.


      5. No. They don’t work when an internal mechanism I have no control over stops them from working. Well two now, POTS and my neck. As I said. Please research.


  3. Pugs it seems very clear that you are a manipulate narcissist and have successfully gaslighed this woman. Creating a conversation in which she feels the need to validateat herself against you.
    Absolutely fuming to read that a person who is so poorly can be abused by a complete stranger.

    Fortunately I see thru you.
    There are many kind and wonderful people on this earth – you are not one of them.

    Sending hopes that you will be surrounded with the loving community that you deserve jenny.

    I believe your pain & suffering to be exactly as you experience it to be.
    Disability is one of those things that is individual to each person. We all experience suffering and pain in different ways.

    And you are clearly suffering so much 😦
    Much love to you & your family. Xxxx

    Liked by 2 people

    1. i hope she stops begging and exaggerating. i’m tired of scammers.

      a lesson to both of you- when you put things out there on FB even on your own page, people can see it. posts are passed around . so take care with what you share


      1. Everything I’ve posted has been honest and backed up by hospital letters. I also have all receipts for appointments etc kept on file in order to produce whenever needed.

        I see you’re still hiding behind a pseudonym.


  4. She is not. This is you projecting your own insecurities and feelings onto other people.

    It’s very clear.

    Although I find it upsetting that people like you exist your words have no baring here anymore. Water off a ducks back I think the saying is.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m not going to Disney land dear. I’m going to Disney WORLD. IN FLORIDA!! How? My wonderful parents in law have booked the trip as a treat for my children, husband and yes; me. Would you turn down a free trip to Disney World when your kids have had to watch you go through two major operations in the space of a year? When they see you collapse all the time and spend more time in bed than out most of the time due to pain.

      How will I manage? Well, there’s these amazing inventions. You sit on them and they power you along without the need to stand or walk. I’ll be using one of them. I’ll also be wearing an aspen vista hard collar and a soft collar in between. The hotel are accommodating my additional needs too. Both ensuring I have the ability to keep my mode of transport with me at all times and also that there’s enough room for me to safely get around the room and deal with my Stoma. There’s also airport assistance and a whole section on the Disney page ‘disabled at Disney’.

      The holiday was booked BEFORE my health declined. We had been meant to go two years previously. My kids missed out due to my health. They won’t be missing out again. I cannot wait to watch them as they enjoy the rides and am incredibly grateful to my parents in law for giving us this holiday we could never in a million years afford ourself.

      I feel so sorry that you have such hatred and jealousy in your heart that you feel disabled people do not deserve the opportunity to have memorable experiences with their families. Particularly when battling something so severe. I guess you’d say the same to the kids who get to go with the make a wish foundation? No… probably not. That wouldn’t suit your agenda.

      As I said. I have nothing to hide. Disney included. But thanks for further confirming you’re so closely monitoring me. I’m sure the police will find it all very interesting.


    2. Geez you are very jealous, aren’t you? If you are her mother, perhaps you feel fear, shame or denial that your genes could have played a role in her faulty collagen. Nobody blames you for that. Be cautious of your own health & be well.


  5. This is my final post because you’ll never see this situation the way everyone else does. You beg for money and talk about bed ridden. Then you post pictures of outings of restaurants and parks. then Christmas presents, takeaway and Disney. Your legs suddenly work when you need to walk for hours or when theres a party or an event. Im sure you’ll somehow feel well enough to enjoy Disney holiday. That is not someone desperate for help. Take as many pictures of your life and your many outings as wish. Look at them constantly. But post for all see then beg for money? What are you thinking? Keep those to yourself to enjoy privately. No need to advertise the things you do and buy then ask money every day. Popping into groups where others are ill and asking them for money? Apalling. No ones stalking. All this is out there on your blogs and fundraiser pages and your youtube. Anyone with internet can see.

    And do not shame people who chose give other charities and not you. Some have no shelter or food or clean water. that’s desperation. The poor don’t have people to take them to Disney hun.

    And contacting the police? For what? For a person commenting on information you have made public for all to see? There no threats or even profanity. Just my opinions and honest observations ON THINGS YOU HAVE SHARD PUBLICLY. Phone Interpol! Someone said something on my public blog that I didnt like!

    Last, some of your responses have been quite funny. ‘swanning’ about gave me a laugh. Youre not a bad person but misguided.


    1. Have you seen the dates on my blogs? The last one was in September. Because I’ve been so exhausted to the point I’ve not even been able to write. I’ve not been able to walk for hours since I was maybe fifteen even then it was a struggle.

      You’re seriously trying to say my children shouldn’t get Christmas presents? (Most of which were from family members. My baby boy got ONE main present from us and a stocking from Santa.) Yes we eat take aways. Because my husband is exhausted and I’m too unwell to cook. Often I’m eating mine from my bed. Better to eat take away than not eat. That’s what DLA is for.

      My Christmas was not shared publicly. It was private. Friends only. My life is my own. I never said I’m ‘poor’ I said I cannot afford the medical treatment I need as my husband is my carer and we live on a strict budget. We don’t drink or smoke. We don’t have sky. We save as much as we can. My clothing… second hand. Given mostly by my MIL.

      Yes, when we can we go to the park. We drive there. I sit and watch the kids play and take many many many photos. Parks are free. Days out are free. I have a crutch and a wheelchair to help me. I’m currently wrestling with the idea of a scooter again. Something I don’t want.

      Clearly you do not in any way understand unseen disability. You’ve done no research on the matter. You just choose to see things with your bias. What you’re doing is harassment. But I’m not upset over it anymore. You’ve just driven me even more to fight my battles and spread awareness for those like me. I’ll get back on with my blog and I’ll live my life to the fullest I can. Because disability doesn’t mean I’m not entitled to a life. It just means I have to push myself harder to make the most of mine.

      I’m not bitter. The majority of my friends have not donated. You know what? I still love them dearly. Because they have supported me in other ways. Ways more important than money. I’m
      So sorry that you have this bitterness in your heart you feel the need to harass someone over things you clearly know nothing about.

      PS. Harassment is a criminal offence. As is internet bullying and the way you’ve nosed into my life, it’s bordering on stalking. I suggest you do actually stop.


    2. Pugs, I’ve read your inarticulate drivel for the last few days, and I really can’t keep quiet. What’s your definition of being sick enough? Lying in bed, completely immobile 24/7? Who made you the arbiter of who is sick enough? Should we all turn to you first for permission to fundraise? Would you be the one to determine who is worthy and who isn’t? Are you a medical professional with access to Jennie’s records, allowing you to thoroughly assess her needs and limitations? I didn’t think so.

      I can think of about a thousand worthwhile causes to which you could devote your time and energy instead of posting your “observations” here. It’s creepy, pathetic, and uncalled for. It is obvious you do not understand how trying and terrifying it is to have one’s entire life flipped upside down by chronic illness, to struggle to complete most basic tasks.

      Therefore, I suggest you crawl back into the dank hole from which you came.

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Hi. I am Jennie’s friend. I have been her friend years. Before her deterioration, before surgeries, and before children. I have donated. Because belive it or not I WANTED to, not because I was made to. I have also helped with other things financially like when her son was born, and Christmas gifts for her children. She is not flush. They budget and struggle by. All the while being the best parents they can be. Jennie cried when given the wonderful gift of Disney. She felt happy, overwhelmed, and slightly sad that this was something she could never have given her children without it being given to them. You can have an opinion. I respect it. But have you never come across the saying “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” you don’t have to donate. You don’t have to be her friend. You don’t have to see or read her posts. If you don’t like it, don’t look.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. I’m Jennie friend you no me in the 1 who’s been out spending this money she has on meals (not true) just cos there’s picks of her out and about dose not mean she is not in pain in fact cos she posted picks means you no the full stories behind them me and Jenny have been for medical appointment and grabbed lunch while doing this I practically had to scrap Jennie up off the floor whosbto say I don’t pay for all the meal? you no nothing Jennie has never in bed begged for money if people don’t want to give money then thwy won’t she not harassed them or done other wise your the reason people find it hard to ask for help and fyi your making your self look like a a stalker I’m shore you no who I am since you no so much about Jennie honestly you should just leave her alone she the most brave strongest person mother and wife I no she’s amazing people should be in it together not pulling bits out of each other what’s your really name or fb I think I want to stalk you back or what are you actually hiding honestly Jennie you need to ignore who every it is they clearly lead a boring life with pugs!

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Dear Pugs.

    You should not be allowed out of the metal ward without having the right medication. Maybe if you sorted yourself out, you might get on with your life and not attack some one from behind a keyboard.

    You are nothing. Just the dirt on the ground that people avoid, Or should avoid.

    Jennie does not have to defend herself to you or anyone for that matter. If you were even remotely close enough to her you would understand exactly what she is asking for and how long term it would change her life completely for the best.

    I would maybe understand your point of view if she was asking for money for a once in a life time trip but really she is only asking for the funds to help better her life. This is no different to the many people out there who genuinely need help. I mean you need help. Be that in your own way mentally but help none the less.

    Jennie deserves to be able to move on with her life and though she may never recover from her illness, at least she can create a more comfortable living lifystyle that will allow her to see her family grow first hand.

    Get a life you sad pathetic individual. Who ever you are, your rediculous comments prove that you are just a silly little person with no clue nor life for that matter.

    Anyway. Go find some one else to annoy with your childishness. 😉

    Truthfully yours


    Liked by 1 person

    1. All the miles between us and you still understand me. So glad you gave me so many adventures before I became so ill. Thank you for giving me things to look back on and smile xx


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