When I was growing up, my SM hated kids. She never wanted any of her own, but yet married a man with 2 of his own, and full custody of them to boot.

She did not want us there. That was made plainly obvious. She used to call the home we lived in, HER house. My father was the breadwinner. There were many times where she was unemployed for long periods of time. She was usually fired for being a *****. She didn't play well with others, children or adults! So its not like She was the one paying the mortgage and supporting us. Dad was.

There was once when her mother came to visit. We had specific towels we were allowed to use in our (the kids) bathroom. We were not allowed to use "the good towels". When Grandma was staying, she went to the hall closet to get towels for me and grabbed some nice towels and SM told her not those, those were for when "she has her OWN house". That was just one of the many jabs. There were lots of others like that that I cant quite put my finger on.

When I was 19, I came home at lunch after school got out and we had had burritos for dinner the night before and there were leftovers in fridge. I made a burrito and warmed it up in the microwave and was cleaning up when SM walked in the door, she was home from work early for some reason, and she said "Who said you could help yourself to MY refrigerator?" It left me standing there dumbfounded. She didn't even really want an answer, she just wanted to scare me, hurt me, remind me I wasn't welcome.

I was never welcome in that house, that was never my home. These days, my home, wherever that might be, is my safe zone. It is my home and is incredibly important to me.