I apologise upfront if this is a highly personal rant but I am desperate to vent and it seems that it is an issue not often addressed seems to be the thoroughly damaging effects single motherhood has on the child. I enjoyed an upbringing that has left me now, at 24 a sexually and emotionally repressed, aimless and apathetic mess. I seem to be quite clearly addicted to pornography and masturbation and am a compulsive binge eater and drinker. I am obese, socially awkward and depressed to the point of being suicidal.

I was raised by a completely incompetent, neurotic, pathologically affectionate single mother, backed by a bossy and domineering grandmother who, to a large extent, seemed out of touch with reality. Not meaning to be disrespectful but I genuinely feel that I‘d be better off right now if I had been neglected or even abused to an extent. As horrible as such a childhood might be, it at least is preparatory to what one can expect to be confronted with in life.

I was smothered and drowned in unhealthy, it seems to me at times even, borderline romantic love. Sometimes it seems I can see her staring at me all dreamy and starry-eyed. And, God, do I hate her for it.

In retrospect it looks like she used me as an emotional substitute for my philandering, natural alpha father whom she left after being pressured into it by my grandmother.

The worst of it all seems to be the emotional and sexual repression. I let opportunities slide and bluntly rejected more women than I approached. Even women I was really drawn to. I routinely end up suffering from oneitis for women, even obsession to the point of it nearly being stalkerish, that were initially attracted to me, but I rejected due to intimacy issues and then repulsed by becoming needy and pushy.

I know men should be self-reliant and all that but never having any sexual or even fickle emotional connection to another person can throw you in a hole it is difficult to climb out of by yourself. I had a very delayed sexual development. I remember being on holiday at around age 5 and sucking at her and her friends bikini - clad breast without anyone bothering to put me in my place. Funnily I remember being reprimanded for half an hour for pointing out a busty woman in a magazine. ,I wouldn‘t have thought that of you‘, which today strikes me as a manifestation of some sick sense of jealousy.

My childhood room was directly connected to my mothers and stepfathers bedchamber. After the growing awareness that they were having sex I ended up with desperate crying fits because my mother was engaging in something as base as sexual intercourse. I must have been twelve or thirteen at the time. I never pursued women because of the nagging ,what would your mother think of you‘ I had in the back of my head. While I do seem past that now, the ingrained idea that I‘m undeserving of a sexual relationship persists.

I first ejaculated at age 17 (!) after thinking that I was sterile for years and quickly became addicted. A few months ago I lost my virginity to a prostitute whose name I do not remember. All in all the act itself was a highly awkward display.

Academic success was rewarded as much as failure was subject to consolation. I never learned to confront challenges, never learned to put in hard work and relied on my natural abilities which only carried me so far. I never learned how to ride a bike out because of the chance that I might fall and hurt myself. The woman even managed to transfer her panicky and anxious personality unto me. And just like her I have no proper sense of self, but try to live vicariously through other people.

The only time when my mother tried to enforce a sense of self-reliance in me was when I was subject to mobbing in school. She refused my request to have me transferred to another class because I had to learn how to deal with my problems. This went on for years and thoroughly stumped my emotional development.

There is no malice in what she did to me, maybe emotional selfishness to a degree. But incompetence and ignorance should not absolve from guilt.

I realise that it is up to me to undo the damage and put together the shambles she left me with. Ironically, intellectually, I know exactly what I need to do, and it is a herculean task. But I am also acutely aware that I lack the energy, willpower and mental fortitude to enact those changes. I was never thought how to be a man and am not emotionally equipped to teach myself how to become one. I am with my back against the wall now, it‘s sink or swim really. By being fixated on keeping me unnaturally happy during my childhood, she might actually have succeeded in ruining the rest of my life.

It is easy to look down on the spoiled, demanding only child that throws fits when it doesn‘t get it‘s way. I wonder how many of those children have had similar childhood experiences. But when confronted with reality we can‘t cope and end up self-destructing through one way or another. A bit like women and the Wall, really.