Coventry.

I'm back in Coventry again. It was almost instant. I was only brought back for a few days and about 3 texts. Then back again to my beloved Coventry. Obviously my brother feels I have some very serious attachment to Coventry and love going there often.

I'm a sad woman. Waiting for crumbs off the table. Some small piece of recognition, some small piece of aproval, some small piece of love or even a tiny crumb of being liked. Sad.

I tried very hard for recognition, love, regard, approval, affection for exacty 32 years with my Mum and Dad. I tried for all of those things for 29 years with my older sister. In 1977 I broke my Mother's, my Father's and my older sister's hearts. I was 16 years old. I wanted desperately to be forgiven and loved or liked and respected. So I gave love, respect and affection by the ton. But I never got what I wanted. I realised 5 years after my older sister died that although she made me feel loved, respected and showed me and my family a lot of affection she never ever really forgave me. That makes me feel sad beyond words.

My parents seemed to be getting over their hurt after about 10 years or so. Then for the next 10 years no matter how much my husband, my children or I did, it never seemed to be enough. There was minimal approval and minimal appreciation for what ever we did. I made sure all we ever did was give: give love, give time, give affection, give attention, give physical effort and give finacially too. It was never good enough.

The other brother's and sisters and son's-in-law were always better than us, even if they did bugger all consistently. I think it's a rule of life: be good, give, give, give; and you get a truck load of shit in return.

So it took me decades to learn, my family think I'm shit. I'm slow. I admit it. I was told I was thick almost everyday of my life from a very early age until I was at least 14 years old; classic self fulfilling prophecy. But finally five years after my older sister died in 2004, and all I had done for almost every day for 5 years was give, I fianlly woke up and smelt the coffee. Well no I didn't really; it was spelt out for me plainly and clearly by my parents - I was of no value to them, my currency had been devalued by them to £000,000. Not that my currency had ever been worth much any way. My Mum and Dad showed me they would stand by my baby brother no matter what he did. He was their son after all. I was a mere daughter - not to be relied on, not to be trusted and to be rejected without a second thought.

So the penny finally dropped. If I can be used, all well and good. If I have an opinion about a living sibling, then I know where the door is. If I think my Mum and Dad will stand by me because I feel wronged, no way Jose. It's not happening. Not in a million years.

So all the sacrifices I made, all the time I gave up, all the love and affection I gave - what for? Rejection in capital letters.

I was dispensable big time.

The last 12 months have been for me. They have been very tough. My health suffered, my mind suffered, my kids suffered, my husband suffered too. Coming to terms with rejection from your own parents and an only brother and a sister is not easy at the age of 48 years old.

I realised that if I had shut up and put up and done my duty like a good Indian woman I would not have been rejected. But it's too high a price to pay. For no recognition, no love or respect it's not worth it.