Circular thoughts…

My Disquisition Polemic on the fallacy of the Grosvenor family Gemeinschaft.

Sweetie its high time I stopped collecting words and started using them.

Kindness is embedded in my soul. My aunt Waltina’s birthday is the 2nd of March (I think???) and it’s a big birthday. My grandma’s last child is turning 60. Truly sad she won’t see it. My aunt called my mum on her own birthday on the 6th of February she sounded so excited on the phone, I wanted to do something. So, I decided to give her £60 for her 60th, that didn’t quite work with the conversion to Leones so I rounded it to 1,900 leones, or 1.9m old leones.

My cousin however had a conversation with me in which she accused me of “shunning” the family.

Why? My will.

I mentioned I was going to put my cutie Mctootie’s from the USA in my will. Over and above from children from my mother’s family. Or my father’s family. That’s why I am “shunning” the family.

*sighs*

I’m not doing this again.

Let me be clear. The treatment of Annetta Mother Smith by her mother’s family was negligent at best during my childhood and cruel favouritism at worst. I was neglected, relationships were not established and so when I needed help, and God have mercy I really did need help at times, I had no one.

The most crushing example of this was my father’s passing.

But there were others,

My GCSE’s when there was a rapist in the house. Aunt Waltina, come and bat for your niece, Uncle Claudius, come and do SOMETHING, Grandma, your grandchild, have some mercy. There was never a scenario when this was reasonable behaviour. But no one could see that. A community of people with my best interests at heart could have at worst softened the blow, but at best knocked some sense into my parents.

When my evil aunt from my dad’s side came over and nearly wrecked my parents marriage.-My mother’s sisters would have been very useful.

My A Levels when I wanted to end my life- that cousin that refused to speak to me would have been really useful in alleviating the loneliness. I was so close to ending my own life.

My marriage. An aunt like Aunt Waltina would have been super useful in having someone to stick up for me and check in on me, and make sure I was okay.

But of course in all these scenarios this didn’t happen.

I had to, “pull myself up by my bootstraps”

And when I say that, I mean carve out pieces of my soul in order to stay afloat.

Then, one day there was no more of myself to kill in order to preserve the body, the person was just gone…

My cousin told me she loved me, I felt nothing,

That’s the point.

I told her “you met me long after the light had left my eyes” and that’s the truest thing I could have said.

She asked if I loved her, I told her I felt “philia” “friendship” for her.

Why? Because the idea of feeling love is alien to me, that is the point.

When my Grosvenor family screwed up and didn’t call me when my dad died, they did irreversible damage.

Now, love isn’t just not open to them, more importantly it isn’t open to me either.

When I said I had to cut the soul to save the body, that is irreversible damage. I can never make that right, and neither can they.

And more important, in the 4 years since I put these people on blast, because it was around this time 4 years ago my mum cussed out the family… they are not prepared to do the work.

Did I mention my aunt Waltina is a twin? No, because my uncles are worse than useless.

My aunt Waltina has a brother, my uncle Walter. And when my father died, 6 months after the fact… he sent his wife to call me. Not him, his wife.

So it is also my uncles’ 60th birthday and guess what? This isn’t costing me £120, only £60. And I’m not dividing it between the 2. I’ve sent my future husband to go and send you money. See? Both of us can outsource our familiar duties to our spouses. That’s what my uncle has taught me.

My cousin was recounting how close the family is, and how they’d go on family outings, and how they’d do this for each other then that for each other… not 10% found me. Not even 5%.

I got pillowcases from my aunt Waltina for my first marriage… Black and maroon unsewn pillowcases.

Meanwhile, I sent her a gift she’d actually like. £60.

If I didn’t send her a gift she likes and she’d rather something else, send me the money back, I’ll take my L.

Basically, my aunts and uncles have never done for me what I did for them when they came to the UK. And that hurt.

When I went to Freetown I was so bitterly disappointed about my lack of welcome, lack of hospitality, it was if I wasn’t special at all, not that I’d not been to the land of my forebearers for 32 years… so I said I’d never go back.

That bit still REALLY irritates me. I have never been so poorly treated as I was in the land of my forfathers and they really thought I’d go back?

What, to the hellhole of your own making? Did you know that the sun exists in other countries? Even if it didn’t, I’m cool to stay in my house and mind my business. No one ever died minding their own business and not spending £2,000-£3,000.

Then… Then my dears… My cousin came for the big one.

I said I wouldn’t give my money away until after I’m dead because then I can’t hurt anyone by depriving them of money.

My parents had given to others generously and there was a dark side to that generosity.

A price to be paid… and I paid it.

She went for the jugular.

“Well, your mum helped me and by that time you were working, so it didn’t affect you…”

Didn’t it?

Are you sure about that Dr Williams?

Are you ever so sure?

Because I paid your school fees with my savings.

Savings I needed because I was going through a divorce.

Savings I needed because we were in a pandemic and I was working temporary jobs.

Savings I needed because back then my parents were abusive towards me and they took away my money and my options for escape. No one walks out on a relationship when they have your life savings…

So yeah, it DID affect me.

Badly.

Horrendously.

It was actually the worst thing I ever did and I regret it to this day.

The pain and the anxiety attacks will never be worth it.

At the end of the day, Oreh is Dr Williams and I still don’t have 100% of my mind back. So deep were the cleaves in my skull, left by anxiety and depression when I lived through a time when everyone around me was abusing me in some form and I lived in a state of terror that I couldn’t and haven’t healed from.

Nothing, 5 years on, has made it better.

Time is a healer my ass.

I can still remember the anxiety attacks, how I shrank myself to make this madness okay.

How my Uncle Olu died knowing despite his best efforts to ruin his own child she was going to be okay and that the person that underwrote his and my parents bad decisions was me.

And I’d not even met Oreh at this point.

Nothing, will ever, and I repeat, ever make it okay.

Nothing can make it better, because I can’t erase the sadness, the grief, the despair I lived in…

For the greater good.

Sacrificed like a lamb.

My parents thought they could borrow the money, pay me back eventually (when the pandemic was over and my dad was dead) and it would be okay.

At no point did anyone take into account the psychological damage, it would do to me.

No one thought me vulnerable.

No one cared for me.

Not parents, not aunts not uncles not anyone.

I was neglected.

Oreh was protected.

And so when she argues for a system to propagate, she is doing so from a position of the highest of highs. Her school fees were paid for.

The same aunt that gave me unsewn pillowcases for my first marriage, gave her $1,000 when she went to Ukraine.

We are not the same.

But the worst part is? I can never tell her. I held my counsel and sometimes I think I defend my parents too much. My parents deserve to be exposed and also it is genuinely something that scarred me for life. So I have the right to speak on my own experiences.

So when I hear her speak, I understand her position. That $1,000 that Aunt Waltina gave her on that one occasion is more money than Aunt Waltina has spent on me in my entire life.

My aunt wouldn’t run up a phone bill for me and spend time with me.

But she’d give the favourite niece $1,000

It is all this that one remembers when they think about their family.

So when Oreh says she wants her kids to “enjoy my money” it fills me with dread.

I would send her kids to their great aunt, without a moments hesitation.

Rather than let her children “enjoy my money”

Over my dead body.

You have no idea how bad the connotations that brings.

The memories. I’d rather hang myself then end up like my father. Invested in people who don’t love me. Who can’t prove a single kind action towards me.

Thus far I have lived over a Billion seconds.

My mother’s entire family have 0 evidence prior to my fathers passing.

0 evidence during that horrible time, a time when I really needed it.

0 evidence when I went to Freetown.

0 evidence afterwards.

And yet kindness is embedded in my soul. My mum’s sister sounded excited about her birthday, the sheer humanity of it…God willing, one day I will be 60 and I hope that I can sound so excited about my day.

So I sent some money, she’s going to do a thanksgiving and afterwards distribute food in church.

Sierra Leone is a hungry country and I am sure someway, some how, my money will feed someone who wouldn’t have otherwise eaten.

Someone will say “God bless you” and God will do something in my life, to help me, as I so often need help with my human frailty.

Its not just my aunt.

My mother’s friend David, is 90 (this is the first he is learning of this) and he has had hip replacement surgery.

I think he’s been a positive impact on my mum’s life despite being old enough to be her father. Older than her own mother.

But hip replacement is no joke, so I bought him chocolates.

I have met him once.

My mum has spoken with him, but despite that its me that opened my wallet and sent chocolates.

Which I will admit, will arrive just after he will be discharged, despite me doing it late. (I was meant to finish the transaction on Monday when I asked around for opinions, but I was tired, so did it on Thursday when I got some mental strength.)

He is a stranger who said “something was missing inside me”

Yes sweetheart, its all the pieces of myself I needed to carve out in order to survive! Now you’re asking for all those to come back…

I didn’t have to send chocolates, but I did. Why? Because it’s a kind thing to do, God willing, if the Lord allows me to get to 90 and I need surgery, I’d like someone to send me a something that says "I saw this and thought of you”

I digress…

My cousin had asked me for “grace” for the family.

I think I have shown an enormous amount of grace.

Grace isn’t the money I’m sending to my aunt Waltina.

It’s the fact that I speak to any family members at all.

Grace isn’t the fact that I don’t hate them.

It’s the fact that last year I was willing to drop over £2k making memories with my aunt Beatrice… In Paris. Grosvenor girlies in Paris. Thank God I didn’t have t-shirts made.

I wrote invitation letters, sent forms, was going to pay for everything from visas to vistas and I really put my money where my mouth is. So I could create memories…

Why?

Because I’ve lost so many.

Today, I sent my aunt Waltina the money for her birthday.

I sent it via her daughter, my cousin.

I’d forgotten that I’d sent money to my aunt twice so she could give my grandma, who lived with her at the time.

Why? Because the second time I did it was the day my grandma died. I sent money 2 hours before I lost my grandma,

So on the scale of things, the money not getting to my grandmother before she could appreciate it and losing my grandmother… guess which I remember more that day? Yeah, the day I lost my grandmother.

So long story short… I forgot. That’s okay, we’re all human, its an incredibly busy time at work and I am just glad I was able to do something that was on my heart to do before it got super late. Sending the money in advance shows intention, planning, forethought these are things I appreciate when receiving gifts and I know people appreciate it when receiving gifts.

I digress.

I am still unreasonably keen to forget the unhappy past.

When I think of the £2,000 (okay more like £2,500, spreadsheets don’t lie) I was willing to spend on my aunt Beatrice, so I would have some memories of my aunt… its sad.

Because of course she’s going to enjoy it. I’m actually still willing to do it (not this year though, I will be doing different stuff this year, (2026) but give me some time to save, and 2027 is absolutely fine.

I had wonderful plans for us, the Louvre, the palace of Versailles, the Eiffel Tower…

All with a woman I was raised to admire.

But the shattering reality is that she didn’t do anything for me when I needed it.

Last year, I stopped buying chocolates for her grandkids.

Why? I got no thank yous from anyone.

Except…

My aunt Beatrice did thank someone… she thanked my mum for the gifts.

And this, this “almost love” below bare minimum so characterises my mother’s family.

I treat them how I would want to be treated, I buy gifts, I call (when its important) (being fair I did call my aunt to ask her if she wanted a free trip to Paris) (and that door isn’t closed to her)

And then my mum is thanked… So I  stopped sending chocolate. Because my aunt is the grandmother of the children affected, and in some cases, the mother. Of people older than me.

I do however know, this is how African aunties act.  I am an extension of my mother.

One time my dad’s friends wife (yeah, long story) was sick, I sent her flowers… she thanked my mum.

My mum didn’t know I was sending flowers. I told her after the fact.

Later that year, I sent the woman’s husband whiskey, because he was kind enough to host us when we went to Freetown… he messaged me. And I treasure that message. But he called my mum… again, I didn’t tell my mum I was sending whiskey, so that was the first she’d heard of it.

With my aunt Waltina, I did speak to my mum in advance, because clearly, I can’t just keep doing stuff that affects her, people calling her phone telling her that her daughter did X or Y. even if it is positive. I’d send money for my grandmother, then my mum would learn about it when my grandma would call to say thank you.

And I seem to do enough acts of generosity that I need to think about these things.

I am my father’s daughter.

And every time I do it I push past all the previous hurts.

Every memory of the terrors or the pain or the sorrow.

Every time I’d log on to Facebook hoping Deji messaged me back…

Every time I needed someone, and I had no one.

I think I treat them pretty damn well all things considered.

“You keep grudges, you know that?” my cousin said.

“I do and I’m at peace with it”

Why is everyone so afraid of the consequences of their own actions?

Why is it that actions shouldn’t have consequences?

I bet smokers pray against lung cancer but they’re not stupid, they know what they did.

My mother’s family want to have it both ways, for me to act as if they did love me whilst putting 0 effort into the relationship.

When it comes to my will, (which is what started this conversation) how the parents treated me DOES matter.

Baby E may be my godson, but his mother ignored me for 18 years, over half my life, whilst I was at my lowest.

Nehanda, who would reach out and was a good friend to me (she travelled to the UK for my first marriage) so her kids do get large amounts of money in the event of my untimely death.

Ian and Ethan? Also, their parents stuck by me when I needed them. 

Verity and Faith? Their mother hates my guts right now. But when I needed her, to her credit she was there. I hold no grudges against them for their mother holding them away the last 5 years, she’s a deeply troubled person and I am not angry at her. Once again, the door is open and it’s only her pride that stops her from walking right through it.

But my brothers kids? Nothing

Firstly, those men are not my brothers I was just socialised that way. Especially now my eldest brother is dead I am released from any and all bondage surrounding his children.

Secondly, each child was born as a rope round my neck. It served to steal my father from me, little by little. Firstly it was him yelling down the phone arguing for the children’s welfare, then there was the money, then there was the cancers as a result of the yelling… then I lost my dad.

I have had nephews and nieces for over 20 years now. Not one ounce of joy.

So no. they will not be getting large sums of money when I pass.

That’s not hating them, that’s just not giving them large sums of money.

Ditto with my mum’s family.

I don’t hate them

But they’ll never “enjoy” my money. Except if I explicitly offer. I honest to God don’t know why I do. I’m not getting anything out of this.

I’d like to build happy memories, with my aunt Beatrice.

I’d like to see my mum happy with her sister Waltina.

I may even be moved to do something with my aunt Claudia, (whose 70th birthday is 2 days later (damnit, why did my grandad have so many kids???)

Notice how I don’t give a fig for the men in my family.

I’d like to one day give some money to my uncle Glenis.

I don’t know why. Its not charity, it’s a sign of regard…

My mother is right, I do show love by money. I guess that’s what happens when you grow up with scarcity.

But I do care, I am kind, and I was dialled into my mother’s family enough to care when my aunt called to wish my mum happy birthday and she sounded excited about her own life.

But more than anything, I am willing to give the future a go. A future that when I think of my mum’s sisters I have memories of eating crepes in France with my aunt Beatrice, or my mum sending pictures of her in China with my aunt Waltina. Of a relationship that we are able to cement over the chasms of the unhappy past, and not be tight knit per say, but to have something, start from ground 0. Even if we build a modest hill, based on where we started it would be something.

God knows why I think it would cost me £2,000 (you know its £2,500 stop using £2,000) to make it happen. But yet, for all of these people it still isn’t worth picking up the phone to me for.

And even for me. Its not worth picking up the phone for…I have nothing to say.

I have nothing to say because a relationship has never been established.

And we go round and round again…

But anyway, I did the thing. I don’t regret it.

I don’t know if I regret not shutting my cousin up in her tracks about “it not affecting me”

Actually, scratch that, I do. Being the bigger person sucks. If God wanted me to be the bigger person he shouldn’t have made me 5 ft 7 and her 6ft.

I don’t regret offering my aunt a trip to Paris and I genuinely hope she does come next year. Maybe I should do something about that sometime soon if I want it.

Love, for me is an action word.

Money, seems to be my vehicle, but the love isn’t in what I send it’s the fact that I plan, I budget, I make sacrifices to send it. Figures are irrelevant, intentions are highly relevant. Actions even more so.

How you treat me matters.

Imagine if they’d treated me well…Imagine how generous I’d be then? Imagine how much better off we’d all be? Especially me.

And finally, even though she doesn’t know why, or how. It was incredibly upsetting to hear the words “My children will enjoy your money” when I still have horrible memories of not being able to sleep for fear, whilst she got to live it up in Ukraine. She was loved as a group project and I was left to both physically and emotionally to die.

The fact that I live is due to God’s grace and my own bad decisions whilst “figuring it out” because I didn’t have anyone else to show me what love looked like, what care looked like, I was incredibly isolated. My parents were neglectful and in being so they’d separated me from any and all support systems so even I wouldn’t work out it was neglect. And that included my mum’s sisters.

But rather than live in the world where a 13 year old Anna was loved and well cared for, I live in this reality.

So. Many. Tears. Shed.

I read “when did she die?” yesterday.

So poignant. Still one of my best pieces of writing.

But also still awful. Why do I feel the same way almost 12 months on?

When will it get better? Will it?

Yet the person I am I continue to try, in my own small way, to be kind. To be loving, even when I don’t receive love back.

Nor do I like re-hashing the past. I wasn’t actually the one who started it. I was trying to be funny and say that I wanted to give Nehanda’s kids my money when I die because they are cute (and being fair, that’s a part of it.)

Oreh took it as I was shunning the family. There was actually no negative feeling towards the family in my decision. Only positive feelings towards those my heart chose.

It shows I value loyalty, I never forget a favour. I keep positive grudges as well as negative ones.

But the Grosvenor’s have been acting up for 34 years now so I know that doesn’t work in their favour.

Its not that I blame them.

Human nature wants to maximise return and minimise effort. That’s what efficiency is

But that is how precisely 0 relationships work.

So yeah I do feel singled out for neglect. Because they didn’t do this to any other sibling’s child.

I also blame my parents for not challenging and asking for more effort for me. My aunt Waltina can spend 6 weeks looking after nieces and nephews and not 5 minutes on the phone with me?

She can give Oreh $1,000 but not a shoulder to cry on for a niece in mourning? Or  a listening ear to a niece in peril? How those biblical words of comfort would have been a balm a poor, wretched teenager such as myself, with the underlying message… “someone cares for you…you are not alone…”

When I think of those cold, dark January evenings, looking up at the sky in Winchester station, finding a reason, any reason not to jump in front of the next train… What would a word of care the previous evening from a loving aunt have done for me?

How would love have affected my choices? Would I have married my ex? Would I have failed my A levels?

We will never know.

But I cannot do anything about it now.

Everything about the last 11 pages, has said that the £60 was a bad idea.

But I don’t regret it. I have done nothing wrong in wishing for a better future than I suffered in the past.

Please God don’t let me regret this.

Let this be a neutral decision from a hopeful niece.

Please God let the pain go away.

Let this be my first act of Grace and Courage of 2026

Grace and Courage.

Annetta Mother Smith.