Have any of you ever wondered what it’s like to live in an environment where you’re unwanted?

Why I’m writing this, I have a feeling, just a feeling that few of you can´t imagine what the person is going through. Because such loneliness is a silent, inconspicuous attacker who will cause a great deal of problems in many lives. Do you think that only a person who does not have a family, friends, acquaintances can feel lonely? Mistake!

Ludmila Cyblová wrote in an article for psychologie.cz: I have always been interested in whether there is something solid within oneself that can resist external changes and what may or may not have the potential to withstand changing relationships and circumstances. At the same time, the question occurs to me: Aren’t our roots part of our essence completely subliminal and forever, the most subconscious certainty that we know where we come from? That we know what we are a certain reflection or continuation, even though we may later define ourselves very strictly in relation to this reflection?

What if we are denied this security? Is the science that your life has, like your friend or partners, an important and unquestionable foundation for your person and visitor – biological mothers and families – a matter of course? Psychotherapist Nancy Verrier tells the stories of her clients who did not grow up in a biological family. They often mention the feeling that they are looking forward to this world from another planet, they just came from somewhere, from a vacuum. A person who was born to a mother may not know, he wants to have a holy birth, a special, even unnatural relationship. What if a person was born to a mother who hides in through within her life and has the same speed and doubt as her parents were somehow dysfunctional ?!

The whole internet is solved by children from the children’s home, so of course I do not despise a serious issue. Rather, I try to point out to children who, despite growing up “at home” without unconditional love, background, security and everything connected with home, have never known. They were unwanted at home, it was clear to them what “nobody” they would become, such as an obstacle to their happy life or how they were destroying that life, even with their presence and different opinion. I don’t have a father and I will write about ways to raise me by my mother later. The essence of why I write this is for me like back to the roots.

As a result of the quarantine, I returned home, (again) I actually wished it much, much earlier. The paradox of why it drew me home, even though I had to run from them countless times with a broken heart, actually fascinates me until now. But the insatiable desire kept coming back, as if I had to go back and understand something in me. After all, there is something wrong with me, they said it when I was little, they say it now. I felt that before, I feel that now.

No matter where I went (by my own), I always wanted to have a family with which I would share my successes and failures. I was naive and I must admit that I still am. I thought that when I returned home, I would cleanse my child’s demons, I would finally move too much, be a better person, and I might not be so incomprehensible to those around me. Maybe only then will I be happy to feel happy. Maybe then I’ll have my own family.

me and granny

me and granny

Being the daddy girl he’s proud of and always protecting me, being a mom’s little girl that grows up to be a  lady, teaches me to cook, clean, treat a man, and all the girly things I should be able to do. What more could a child really want than a home of unconditional love, protecting and undrestanding by own parents and family.

When I complained as a child that I was missing something or that a small change would make my life easier, my mother replied: “I never had it either, I never experienced it either!” As an argument, it had to be enough for a little girl. When I was older and the situation was repeated and my mother had the same answer again, I found a touch of courage in me and replied, “But I don’t have to live your life, I don’t have to have a life like you had.” My foolish idea of ​​parenthood is that when something has made you an unhappy person, you will be a better parent for your own child, so that history does not repeat itself. You will try not to experience what you do.

My stepfather showed me how I was not his daughter, how I would interfere with him, he looked for mistakes on me so that he could throw them at my mother, and she had a reason to either tear me down, humiliate me, or beat me. The truth is that my stepfather touched me several times, humiliated me, judged me, held me by the throat until I fainted, but the cutting and thrashing of dislike and distrust of me was directed by my mother. It was as if she was returning from work every night, and instead of greeting, just said “what did the girl do again!” What about, as an unhappy child, I made various attempts by calling for help.

But that was not understood at the time. I was the problem and that I know the truth that the stepfather goes to the other side of town to cheat my mother while I look after their firstborn and holy son at home, it was one alleged lie for them to cause a problem again, another effort to get them disrupt their happy life where I interfered. This earned you some of the first labels “THE PROBLEM, THE CONFLICT.

She hated me for spoiling her “happy” marriage. I was the alleged reason why she was unhappy and believe me, countless times as a child I heard how I ruined her life and what could have been. And that was not all. I’m not saying that I was a golden child, I’m not saying that I was an exemplary teeneager, but I dare say that as a small child, I received a hard lesson on what is pain, whether physical or mental. What it’s like when they don’t want you at home, what it’s like that they don’t trust you, what it’s like when they don’t love you, they don’t support you. What is it like to suffer desperately.

And the most important thing is when no one understands you. I was threatened with everything I could, and over time I became apathetic to punishment. I even remember the first moment I didn’t even cry anymore, with all my might to suffer my mother broke a wooden spoon around me (and not the first one). I didn’t cry, I didn’t ask her to stop, I had no reason, I knew she was beating me because I had a different opinion and because she wasn’t happy with who I was, (who she was) because she couldn’t admit she wasn’t a good mother, she never stood up for me. Once, holding me by the hair in an argument and slapping my head against the wall several times in a row, I made a commitment to do anything to get out of this family as soon as possible.

I should have gone to the orphanage by myself, at least my life wouldn’t continue in that pain. I would have a chance to be a small child, to play, to be loved either by aunts and educators, or by friends.

I regret it to this day and that is why I would like to tell all the children who “HOME” suffer that they do not have to be ashamed of it, that it is not their fault and that even though they are children, they can take their lives firmly in their hands and change it. To sign up for help.
You don’t have to stay in that hell, because like me, it will haunt you all your life until you will stop it. This is exactly the quiet, inconspicuous companion of the so-called complex and they are hard to get rid of. But they won’t tell you about it in time as a child.

Now that I see it from a distance, I have to stand up for my mother in one. She was in love, she wanted a happy family, she wanted to be loved, and something kept fighting. And the easiest solution, of course, was to point at me. She’s the broken one, the problematic one. CAROLINE IS THE PROBLEM. I was what she was willing to sacrifice.

Horrible clishé not to admit the truth and accuse own daughter of her misery. The tip of the matter is that the inverted view that I can’t be happy now because of the topic is, of course, unacceptable.








I wasn’t even 15 years old and I carried this and a lot of other things in me. So I left my home, I was young and alone, and I needed my father so much.

And now I’m back, because it no longer matters if I make my family happy, but because now I deserve to be happy, whether it hurts them, whether they’re reluctant to accept a truth other than their alibi and lies.

The continuation of my life will come next week. Writing this has been very painful for me, but it’s time to live in the truth. It is time to accept life as it is and you deserve to know the truth as to why I am who I am. Because YOU ARE MY FAMILY! Until I find my father! 

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