Loyalty and Lost Trust

I guess I still have a bit of fear about the ramifications of revealing my website and my family finding out. But I’m beginning to trust that I’ll be okay whatever happens.

I’m also realizing now how loyalty to my mother has denied me so many situations in life where people were actually looking out for me — people who tried to help, not hurt. And yet, I was drip-fed a version of events that made them out to be the bad guys. It happened with the man who did my kitchen and bathroom. It happened with my father.

Looking back, I can see it more clearly: my mum may have projected her wounds onto that man. I was gaining independence. I was moving away. It was a year after my father died. Maybe she felt threatened. Alone. And so she spun a narrative. Subtly. Gently. But powerfully.

The truth is — that man did a great job for the money I paid him. And I didn’t see that until years later. Seven or eight years have passed, and his work has quietly stood the test of time. It’s like a gentle, lasting love. No fanfare. Just honest integrity. The kind that reveals itself slowly.

Maybe it wasn’t entirely intentional. Maybe it was. But I do believe he, and his son (who was my mate at the time), genuinely wanted to help me. And I couldn’t believe that back then. Not because of them — but because of what I’d been conditioned to believe. Because my mother’s version of events overtook my own.

I have to be kind to myself about that.

I was under so much pressure. Fresh out of hospital. My son in another country. Trying to start a business. Trying to survive. I didn’t have the bandwidth to question everything. And in that chaos, I let someone else take the reins. I let her dictate my thinking. It felt easier — safer — to let her lead.

But that vulnerability… it was exploited. Not obviously. Not violently. But subtly. To meet her own needs. To gain back power.

And that’s just… really sad. Really, really sad.

But the fact that I can see it now — that I can say that’s what happened — means I’m no longer in it. I’m no longer under it. I’m reclaiming my own perception.

And maybe that’s the quietest, strongest act of healing there is.