Moving Out ~ The Original

 My Mother was quiet but watchful in the days after telling me I was to find somewhere else to live as I made the `house unhappy`. I was pretty shell-shocked. I now felt like a guest who had outstayed their welcome in my own home. That said though I had always had a nagging feeling like I was on borrowed time, that I was in their home and I was being allowed to stay until I was old enough to fend for myself, it was a horrible feeling to have no sense of belonging in the place where you were supposed to belong the most. I began to be very careful with my money, cut down my going out, bought nothing new to wear and started to save. Out of fear though I also began buying things for my own home like mugs, plates, tea towels, a couple of saucepans, 2 little pictures. I took some home and hid them and the bigger things I left at work. I still had no real plan and was half hoping it would not be mentioned again.

Of course I had harboured a far off dream that one day I would have my own place but at 18 I had been having far too much fun going out, I hadn`t envisaged Flat hunting until maybe in my 20`s, perhaps with a long term beau by then to share the costs. Mother though wasn`t about to give up so easily. "Av ya started lookin for somewhere to live Amanda" she barked at me one day, giving me the side eye. "Yes" I lied..not wanting to admit I had hoped it had blown over. OK she said sweetly with a flicker of a sly smile. So she was serious then, again I had nervous butterflies, where would I go and how would I manage. You may think, well you are practically running the house, you know you are more than capable of taking care of yourself, you can budget, cook, wash, clean, you earn a good wage...you`ll be just fine...

The thing with Narcissistic abuse is it dis-empowers the victim, I had been drip fed, I wasn`t good enough, never got it right, I had been gas lighted, made to question, not just my ability to do anything well but my own sanity at times, I had no faith in myself at all and so I over looked all of my achievements so far just as she had taught me to. I became quiet, people asked me what was the matter, I thought and thought and when she again asked if I had had any luck with a flat I bluffed an answer and told her I had some places to see. For a fraction of a second she looked utterly shocked, then her face set hard and her eyes began flickering about, a sign she was plotting her next move. Maybe she wanted me to cry and beg to stay so she could enjoy my vulnerability and dependency on her, rather than having to watch my confidence grow as I built a happier life which included her less and less.
So, as I just couldn`t bring myself to ask if I could stay. I began to look. I quickly realised a flat was out of the question, even if I could scrap the rent and electric, there would be precious little left for bus-fare and food let alone ever going out. Then I saw bed-sits to let and the rents were low enough for me to manage and have a life as well.

On my lunch break I made an appointment to view one after work and I asked the girls who lived that side of town about the bus routes. And slowly the fear I was feeling was joined by a dash of excitement. With hindsight I should of looked at a few more, I probably could of got a nicer one if I had, but not trained in being particular about anything for myself, I took it there and then. The rent was affordable and when I looked about the small self contained room it had all I would need and I imagined myself making a little home here. My own home, away from her. It slowly dawned on me that at no time was my Father present when she told me she wanted me to move out or when she`d been questioning me on my progress. I wondered if he even knew, at the same time knowing instantly it would of made not an ounce of difference, he was never going to save me anyway. When I got home, and I use that term loosely, I was bursting to tell her. She was rambling on about some tit for tat chat with a neighbour and when a pause came I said "Oh and I found somewhere to live so I`ll be moving out " Stunned silence followed by the quietest ok and a lot of rapid elbow movement. Later I became aware of a lot of whispering. Whispering was not a good thing to hear in my house, it usually meant she was discreetly filling him in on a morsel of truth, elaborated and spun in the direction that would make her innocent and me guilty. As I entered the kitchen they were both there, him making tea and her hovering about by the table. And so he delivered the first line of the agreed script...."What do you think about getting your room decorated Amanda?"  he asked casually....What ? Its only ever been decorated once in 12 years, it still has the 70`s `blue for a boy` wallpaper on...so why now ? I thought .... "Well what`s the point if I`m moving it out" I reply. Queue all hell breaking loose. It all gets very sketchy in my memory then, as is always the case when things get quite distressing. He`s shouting thinks like, ungrateful, arrogant, who did I think I was, she`s screeching I told ya Geoff, I told ya so....

And I`m trying to fight my corner and am yelling "you didnt want me here, you`ve kicked me out" and at some point his hand strikes me across the face and I go flying up against the fridge, him laying the law down about me being full of myself, and too damn cocky, I stay with my face against the fridge sobbing quietly, hurt, humiliated and once again gaslighted by my Mother, attacked by my Father and utterly helpless to defend myself or have my truth heard. Hence this Blog. And so I moved out in the next couple of weeks and began a new adventure.