Yes, I live in England and yes I am at my home!

 Yes, I live in England and yes I am at my home! 

When I am in Poland I am on vacation. I am in a country that has never allowed me to move out away from my toxic mother home who, ever since she started drinking, occupied my bed after a party, leaving me nothing to sleep on when I was coming back home at the age of 16th years old. Anyway, I heard mostly that "You are not at yourself home" because it was her home, not mine so I had nothing to say. One day, When she threw away ALL my stuff - clothes, cosmetics, toys, board games - Because it was supposed to be a punishment for disobedience. I returned home and had nothing, being 17 years old... So, I was taking nothing, because I had nothing, began to sleep anywhere, and later at a friend's house with the consent of her Mom and My Dad.

For many years I lived in Poland with my Mom and brother. In the meantime "We" moved to a smaller apartment when I was 17+ years old.  As there were three rooms, my mother said we couldn't afford it, so my mother and I moved to two, and my brother moved out with his wife and to her family.

I have always been told that when I will live at my home I will decide anything for myself. I've always been told that I don't live at my home, I live at my mother's, and she pays for it, so I don't have the rights I would have if I paid for the apartment, and if I live at my own place I can say and comment on anything. 

I turned 18 not long after the move.  I was going to high school at the time and in the first year of high school I let it go due to the fact that when I was already approaching my eighteenth birthday Mom told me that I was now paying for myself. I had to have money for clothes and food otherwise I had nothing to wear and nothing to eat. Mom was trying to charge me 20 cents for a piece of bread and as you already know, she was throwing away all my clothes earlier.

My brother helped me a lot during this time but he didn't live with us. My Dad and friends also helped me. so it was okay, let's say. Once I managed to find a casual contract job and was constantly getting more assignments through an employment agency I went back to school. My day looked like this; I would get up at 7:00 a.m. and drive to school for about 40 minutes, after school I would go to work and I would come home at 9:00 p.m. I did my homework while i was going by bus to and from school.

Mom said either pay or get the fuck out. She wouldn't show me the bills I was supposed to contribute to so I didn't know if the amount she was telling me to pay was a normal amount. So I didn't.

After finishing school, I couldn't find an apartment to rent that I could afford. I took extra jobs, At one point I had as many as 3 jobs at the same time just before I get out of Poland.

I really wanted to live alone. I no longer admitted to my mother how much I was earning, and I kept putting money away. I still had to buy my own food and clothes and I kept hearing that "You are not at yourself home". I had had enough, so I decided to leave for England after one longer 3 days party and quite spontaneously.

Today, I am proud to say that I am at my home here where I have all the things that I already had when I had a job, which 8 years ago I brought from Poland, and the rest I sent just after Mom threw them all together into the basement. The basement there is often flooded by water and there are rats cats and fleas. So here we come again, thanks, mom.

That wasn't been easy as The apartment I moved into was empty of everything I had to buy all by myself.

I was raising a child by myself during this time. Happy that I didn't have to move out and that no one was telling me to get the fuck out. I still live here, I still live here and it's very hard for me sometimes to explain to people who live in Poland and have their family home... Apparently, no one ever told them to get the fuck out. A home where no one has ever thrown anyone out in the middle of the night along with their belongings. Just like my Mom did to my brother when he came back to live with us after the divorce. And she was just so drunk one night. I wasn't there, I got a call from my brother that he was sitting in the park and had everything with him. When he entered the house in the middle of the night it was already packed.

Fortunately, I managed on the way home to persuade one of my friends who was renting an apartment so that my brother could live with him and not spend that night and many others in the park. 

I have a hard time explaining to people, that here I am at home. When I invite someone to my place it seems absurd to them that I say that. I am often asked why I will not return to Poland. I have often explained that I don't have things there and no place to stay... during the time as I usually did book a hotel in the past. I explained that I sent everything to my home in England. I was trying to explain that Since I left I had nowhere to go back And when I was there I had nowhere to live. 

Maybe someone will read this and understand, at least a little, that I live at my lovely home, and I visit Poland as the country where my father and my fiancé's family live. I don't talk to my mother anymore. I really tried to love her as she is. A few years ago I invited her to spend Christmas with us. I even managed to force her with my brother, who also came at the time, to not drink alcohol for 3 days. But then like crazy, she started making trips around the city in search of alcohol.

She would come home to me and leave bottles on the floor in the middle of the night, she was scaring my child with her behaviors. My son was 4.5 years old at the time, she told him when he cried that no one would love him because, according to her, he was behaving badly. That took me a long time to throw away that idea from my son's head. She said the same things to me in the past. This led to numerous arguments, and I returned to smoking cigarettes which I quit for two years. So Happy Christmas! And during her visit, she criticized everything I managed to get with my hard work. For her, my apartment was bad, ugly, cold, and uncomfortable. I, on the other hand, for my mother I was being stupid. For her my child was not polite in her opinion. My Mother smoked cigarettes and threw bottles around the house wronged by my presence, she told me at the airport that everything would have been better if the one person was not on this Christmas holiday. Apparently, my brother will host her next time. 

As far as I know, She still keeps telling strange and not true stories about me. After so many years of drinking alcohol everything is mixed up for her, I can hear these stories from other people. I used to correct her but now I don't want to anymore. She lives in her own world.

Nowadays a part of it... something positive? The upside is that I am not afraid. I am not afraid of living on the street, not having money, and not having anything to wear. I'm not afraid for those I help, that we can't cope because someone throws them out of the house, because they have to part. I don't worry when something doesn't go right because there are always opportunities, all you have to do is look for them. So if you are afraid of anything don't hesitate to come I will help you - maybe I have already been through this.

It's nicer in the basement...

 It's nicer in the basement...

I don't think I'll ever understand houses so big that they could house a family of 20 and only have one, two...well three tenants at most. And not happy ones, because they should have no reason to be. They are unhappy because they have been taught to live in these big houses full of abundance as if they were in a fucking museum. More than once, this has been the situation in a cramped room - in a room, in a kitchen, or even in a basement - we crowded in 10 people to be with each other when it was cold outside or raining. 

The small room was full of laughter, music, and positive vibes. There may not have been 50 dishes to choose from and 300 types of alcohol, but we had a

 

great time. Not many of my friends could live in a big house when they had families and earned anything. Maybe that's a good thing because many of them are happy with little or no money and still traveling the world. I grew up on a dirt estate in modest conditions. But I remember those days, the parties, lots of laughter and fun. Today, more than 10 years later, I am lucky enough to visit people who have succeeded. But they don't know how to enjoy it and it's a sad sight. Those manners of theirs were mostly feigned. A chilling silence because no one wants to come across as a fool, so they hardly speak at all. Strange giggles instead of playfulness and the lack of openness. Pushing children to behave who are clearly not allowed to be children. 

No running, no touching, no spilling, no squashing... What the fuck has happened to these people, I don't remember any of them wanting to live to old age in a fucking museum, let alone have their parents bring them up as coaches. I notice they say to respect what you have etc but come on, a piece of crayon on the floor is really bearable and a running child is rather in my opinion the greatest joy for a parent. Healthy, happy, and wonderful! But no, it's now fashionable to sit stiffly, apparently, and for goodness sake no running and laughing. I there preferred to get dirty, run in the mud and throw sling stones at the fence. I would run around the house all day long and thankfully no one admonished me or took away my joy of being a child. Today I take joy in every opportunity for freedom - because we are restricted at every turn. At work, on the street, etc. If you know what I mean. Home should be respected, but why shouldn't people have the right to play in it? What has happened is that this rigidity has spread like a plague and there is no trace of fun, just sullen faces, everyone has a stick up their arse (Polish saying), staring at a screen and overestimating the value of money. I'd rather go to a cramped kitchen with old friends than spend a boring evening in a museum without loud music and laughter.