I CAN NEVER FORGIVE MY MOTHER, SHE ABANDONED ME AT AN ORPHANAGE HOME — SHATTERED LADY SHARES

I can still remember the smell of disinfectant and cold floors, even though I was too young to understand what abandonment meant. I grew up in an orphanage, surrounded by other children who carried their own silent wounds. Some cried openly. Others learned to smile too early. I learned to pretend I was fine.

I was told my mother brought me there herself. No accident. No emergency. She handed me over and walked away. That single act has followed me through every stage of my life like a shadow I can’t outrun. People say time heals everything, but time has only given me more questions and deeper pain.

As a child, I waited. I believed every sound at the gate meant she had come back for me. I imagined her face, her voice, her arms pulling me close and saying she was sorry. But days turned into years, and hope slowly became embarrassment. I stopped waiting because waiting hurt too much.

Growing up without a mother leaves a kind of emptiness that words struggle to explain. At school, when teachers asked us to write about our parents, I froze. On visiting days, when other children ran into warm embraces, I learned how to look away without crying. I mastered the art of swallowing pain so people wouldn’t ask questions I didn’t know how to answer.

What hurts the most is not just that she left, but that she never came back. No letter. No message. No attempt to explain. I have spent countless nights wondering what I did wrong as a baby to deserve being discarded. Was I not good enough to love? Was I a burden? Those thoughts are heavy, and they don’t disappear easily.

People often tell me, “She must have had her reasons,” or “You should forgive her for your own peace.” But forgiveness is not that simple. Forgiveness feels like a luxury for people who received explanations, apologies, or at least effort. I got none of that. I got silence.

I have built myself from scratch. I learned strength the hard way. I learned independence because there was no one else to rely on. I learned how to survive without a safety net, without a mother’s voice telling me everything would be okay. I am proud of the woman I have become, but I won’t pretend the journey didn’t break parts of me along the way.

Maybe one day I will understand her choice. Maybe one day the anger will soften. But today, I am honest with myself. I can’t forgive my mother for abandoning me at an orphanage. The scar she left shaped my life, my fears, and my resilience. This is my truth, and I refuse to dilute it just to make others comfortable.