Growing up, I always knew I was different—a feeling that only intensified as the years went by. I was the “oops” baby, born into a second marriage, and that revelation from my mother left a lasting impact on how I saw myself within the family dynamic. With an older brother and sister who shared the same mother but a different father, I often felt like an only child. I looked different, spoke differently, and thought very differently. My connection to my “northern” roots, thanks to my father’s upbringing in the north of England, made me feel even more out of place. Despite being called the “posh one” because I was born in Winchester and spoke “funny,” I felt a stronger bond with my northern side. My journey to where I am today—a place of estrangement and self-preservation—has been long and painful, but ultimately necessary for my well-being.
Growing Up Different: From a young age, it was clear that I didn’t quite fit in. My siblings and I might have shared the same mother, but our lives and experiences were worlds apart. My father, originally from Guernsey but raised in the north of England, was my connection to a part of my heritage that I felt more aligned with. Yet, even with this connection, I was labeled as different, as “posh,” simply because of where I was born and how I spoke. These differences weren’t just superficial—they were deeply ingrained in how I saw the world and interacted with those around me.
The Strained Relationship with My Mother: My relationship with my mother was challenging from the very start. We never quite saw eye to eye, and our interactions were always strained. Things eased somewhat when I left home as a teenager to join the military, creating a physical and emotional distance that I desperately needed. However, that reprieve was short-lived. The arguments continued over the years, and they only grew more intense and frequent. It reached a point where I had to make a difficult decision: to cut myself off from my mother for the sake of my own sanity.
Estrangement for Survival: Deciding to become estranged from my family, especially after the birth of my daughter, was one of the hardest choices I’ve ever made. I wanted to maintain a relationship with my father, even as I distanced myself from my mother. Deep down, I knew it was the right thing to do. My gut instinct was correct—my mother didn’t care to maintain a relationship either. The phone never rang, and I realised that the effort was never mutual.
A Moment of Connection Before It Was Too Late: In 2018, while watching an interview with Piers Morgan about Meghan Markle’s estranged relationship with her father, something compelled me to reach out to my dad. I’m so grateful I did. Just a few months later, he passed away suddenly. That reconnection, however brief, was a gift I’ll always cherish. It’s funny how those sixth-sense moments can push you to do something you might otherwise hesitate to do. Missing out on that chance to reconnect would have been a regret I’d carry forever.
Hopes for Rekindling and the Final Realization: After my father passed, I naively hoped that this might be the beginning of a renewed relationship with my mother. I was wrong. Despite discussing the challenges and pain over the years, there was still no acceptance, no acknowledgment, only denial. That was when I knew I needed to make a fresh start, which also coincided with my decision to end my marriage and prioritize myself for the first time in my life.
People often ask about my parents, and it’s always difficult to explain that I have no contact with my mother. I know it makes me sound heartless, but if they understood the reasons behind my decision, they would see that it was about survival, not cruelty. You can choose your friends and those who want to be in your life—family, on the other hand, is a different matter. Sometimes, the only way to find peace and happiness is to let go of those who are supposed to be closest to you, even if it’s one of the hardest things you’ll ever do ❤️
CheekyVic: Adventures of a 40+ Year Old 
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