ЦПƧYMMΣƬЯIᄃΛᄂ

It was supposed to be an early dinner. My mom said she would bring burgers. She forgot, and I exploded.

She said I was being childish, but I was hungry and waiting for her to fulfil the promise she made. The part that hurts ……. It’s not the first time it has happened.

I said, ‘Fine, I’ll order by myself,’ but she went and cooked me dinner. I am 22, for God’s sake, and I don’t have the freedom to choose what to eat.

I try to be the parent and explain that I see her effort, but I never get the end product, so it’s hard for me, too. She cries and says sorry but the loop continues.

I took a shower, cried my heart out, nothing changed, and it hurt like hell. This was a pattern where she decided what was good for me and acted upon it without considering that I might want something different.

After all the crying, came guilt ……… guilt that I am being petty for a burger, that I am a bad daughter, I can’t hate my mom for she cooks, cleans, and cares for me.

But am I wrong to want a friend who listens to me without judgment, loves me unconditionally, for whom my happiness comes first, not my submission and obedience?

I fought her battles for years, and somehow, I was always the enemy. I don’t know why she can’t be a mother to me like she is to my brother. Why does she never ask me about my day and feelings? Why is my outburst just me being me?

Why was I given the tag of being a mature kid and let to take responsibility so soon? My brother needed softness when I was sent to war. I am just a girl trying to understand a woman who is my brother’s mother……..

Anyone can cook or clean………….

But doesn’t a mother give more? I thought, being girls, we shared more, but I guess that never really mattered.

I don’t know what healing looks like yet.……. But I know it begins here. If you ever fought a silent war with your own family, I would love to hear your story. Let’ stop pretending we’re the only ones holding our breath at dinner. Maybe we’re not as alone as we think.