Leaving my mother

But maybe even more damaging were her vitriolic words. For at least 10 years my mother used psychological warfare to terrorise me. There was a continuous onslaught of insults: I was no good, if my father knew what I was really like, he wouldn't love me, I was a slut. My crime? Existing. I didn't have to do anything to set her off, because everything was about her - her moods, her frustration with life, her anger at the world. I was her emotional and physical punch bag.

In recent years, any conversation with my mother, in an attempt to make sense of her behaviour, is cut short by the reply: 'It's all water under the bridge.' But it's not and never can be, because every time I see her, I'm still the terrified five-year-old waiting to be physically or verbally abused. And I can see in her face that although she's 65 the anger and resentment is still bubbling away. Ironically, it is this same fear that prevents me having a confrontation with her now. It is safer not to speak. Something I learnt from a very young age.