“My life with them had been one constant rollercoaster and I just needed to get off. I needed to recover.”

6 months ago, almost to the day, was the most important day of my life. My wedding day. 18 months in the making, my now wife and I had created a small but intimate gathering. I stood nervously before the start of the ceremony waiting for people to arrive. My own bride-to-be had insisted on not letting me see her before she made her big entrance. I entertained the photographer as a way to calm my nerves but I think the pacing back and forth more than gave it away. Gradually people started to arrive, group by group. I was getting excited by this point, genuinely excited. Several greetings, hugs and kisses later we were finally ready to begin. Standing at the top of the stable we had booked as our venue I looked out over the sea of faces. I had my brother and his family, my uncle with his family, my granny and grandad. Just two people missing. My Mom and Dad.

My Dad had told me a few months before the wedding that he wouldn’t be attending. Unfortunately even in 2024, gay weddings and some Christian folk don’t mix. I had been given a bit of time to let it sink in. I can’t say that it had come as a complete shock but I had hoped we had travelled some distance over the years. We had, apparently just not anywhere near enough. It still hurt more than I can put into words.

My Mom declined the wedding invitation at 9am on the morning of the wedding. In the form of a text message. I had seen her the week before. There was a confirmation of times and a “see you next week” before I left. Her text claimed she was an embarrassment due to her looks and she couldn’t bear to burden me with her presence. I hadn’t known how I would feel about my Mom’s attendance up until that point. There had been several questions hanging over my head over whether the day would go well in relation to my mom. It had been a rocky couple of years between me and her, and the rest of the family and her. So much so that I had organised a brunch the morning of the wedding for her and my grandparents to break the ice after a long period of silence on my Mom’s part. Instead of being able to break the ice I had to break the news of her absence. It was in the moment of reading her text message, in my hotel room that morning, that I knew exactly what I wanted. What most girls want on their wedding day. They want their Mom. After laughing to myself about the ridiculousness of the situation I was now in, I broke down and cried.

That day was the straw that broke the camels back.

It’s one thing to have one of your parents absent from your wedding. Another thing to have them both missing. But trying to cope with the fact that both of my parents couldn’t bring themselves to come, for two completely different reasons, has been an absolute hell and a half to come to terms with.

I had had enough. After a lifetime of them making my nervous system crawl with pain, fear and vigilence, I knew it was time to take a break. My life with them had been one constant rollercoaster and I just needed to get off. I needed to recover. I knew I needed peace and my parents are two people who aren’t capable of that. They aren’t capable of that. Period.

I thought it would feel liberating and it did. It did for the first couple of weeks to a month. Then the grief set in and it never left. The grief of so many things. So so many things. My childhood that was filled with fear and emotional abandonment. The relationship that I desperately wanted with my parents but never got. The acceptance I desparately wanted but never got. The grief of losing memories of my wedding that I should have had but couldn’t. Then comes the realisation that even though my parents have hurt me as much as they have, I still love them. That my parents aren’t young anymore. That honouring my needs may mean that I can count the amount of times I see them again on one hand. I didn’t realise that making this decision would bring their impending deaths to the very forefront of my mind. 6 months after making that decision, I still dream of my parents dying often. You know when you end a relationship, and your brain puts on those rose tinted glasses to make you question why on earth you’ve made such a ridiculous decision. I can also float into that denial stage. Trying to tell myself it wasn’t that bad and I can and should get over everything they’ve ever put me through. Making myself feel horrible like I’ve abandoned them. It all comes in waves.

For anyone who is embarking on the same journey I am, be strong when you have to be and be weak when you have to be. Your feelings won’t have an expiration date and they will come and go. It is the hardest thing you will ever do. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I have to keep reminding myself that everything is on my terms. If a time comes that I think I want to try and salvage that relationship again, I will. If I think it’s best to see them once a year, I will. But it will be my decision, when I am ready.

Talk soon

Carly