I’m “Sigh”-ra Leonean

Once again I am here. Another disrespect from my mother’s family.

I really don’t know what to say.

If you are new here is a brief recap of my mother’s family. My father’s family is so bad I write under a pseudonym.

My mum had the home court advantage of being my mother and also the fact that unlike my father’s family her family aren’t in fact, evil.

But despite this huge advantage her family have systematically wasted any and all goodwill they had accumulated. My mother has always been full of praise of her family.

And despite her repeated assertions that “if anything happened” her family would be there for me. I no longer believe such nonsense.

As I have often said, one doesn’t rise to the occasion you fall to your standards. And my mother’s family have no standard of care for me. So if anything happens to me (and plenty has) they not only are not there for me. I get screwed over. I’m treated like an “other” because my big bad British money will fix everything.

I was a child. My mother’s family did precisely nothing when I was a kid after my grandad died. He loved me and he showed it. He never forgot my birthday or Christmas because I was a child and it’s not for me to be understanding of your “circumstances”

Got married. My mum has 7 siblings and a mother. I got 2 deeply humiliating gifts. Unsewn pillowcases and a grammatical incorrect plaque. Why is it humiliating that the plaque is incorrect? Sierra Leone is a former British colony and so English is the national language, and while there is a sizeable illiterate population my family is not one of them. Everyone is literate and educated. So my grandmother knew that that plaque was wrong when she gave it to me. And I am a native English speaker.

Got divorced. Nobody called. I didn’t even know that was a thing until my cousin got divorced and I called her.

Dad died, no one called. My heart forever will be broken. I was at my lowest and they couldn’t even pick up the phone. 7 aunts and uncles, about 6 adult cousins and a grandmother. Nothing. Their behaviour during that time was unforgivable. 7 months after my father’s passing I mentioned to my mother that they didn’t call me. She put the family on blast and they all called, chastised. But before that about 4 months afterwards my mum went to Freetown and I was alone, it was horrendous. I was so lonely and alone. I had touch starvation and truly awful depression. Not only did no one think to check in on me because my dad was dead and they had my mother, I even went out of my way and gave my grandmother £50. Something she likes, ( does she know what I like?) that was the only time she called me. And she had to be reminded to call me.

Oh it gets worse.

My mum’s birthday, the first one after dad’s passing, she spent in Freetown. I planned a surprise party. Spent £250 on it. Was I allowed in the party? (I called several times to wish my own mother happy birthday) nope. But that £250 and the fact that they ate the food I bought for days allowed me in the family group chat. Yes the family had a group chat for loved ones. I was only inducted after buying my way in. So I could see the pictures of my mum’s party because not everyone was going to send it to me. My words were used in the opening speech. “There was once 3 Griffin’s and now there are only 2 I don’t want my mum to be alone on her birthday” but apparently I don’t deserve a voice. Despite being her only child. Her closest living relative.

It’s only then after she returned did I talk about the fact that her family didn’t call me when dad died.

When family come, I’ve taken them out, spent time and money on them, on numerous occasions. When I went to Sierra Leone…nothing. There’s 1 of me, I show up every time. There’s 20 of them. Literally nothing. I have a chronic condition (depression) do I use that as an excuse? Nope. I have another cousin with depression, she’s treated with love.

Brother died? Nothing.

My father’s family are openly hostile. I was never stupid enough to trust them (actually I was) but mother’s family broke my heart. My mother pretended they were good people. And covered up for them every time they messed up. But the truth is they mess up every single time. You can’t point to a single major event for me where they showed up like a reasonable family. It’s now cruel manipulation to lie that they love me. Too many actions say that they don’t. Does it make them evil people? No. I can distinguish between “ doesn’t love me” and “bad person” So whilst I don’t have cruel names for them nor open hatred, my children will be protected from being treated with apathy.

I come to a far more concerning point. I don’t know what care looks like. It scares me to my soul. If my life is to get better then I will need care. And because my family have consistently not cared for me. Something as simple as remembering my birthday, I am not asking for much. My British money isn’t fixing that.

Grace and Courage

Annetta Mother Smith

June 2024