I was not planning to write at all. But I guess I am using this blog sometimes as an alternative to going to a psychologist .

So many things that has been gathering up inside. Each time it is trying to surface, I push it back down, mostly with success. Obviously keeps accumulating, till eventually you cannot hold it anymore and it erupts like a volcano.

It is not the right way to resolve conflicts, we are way more mature than this, but oh God, sometimes I cannot help myself. I ‘m only human after all.

No matter how old you are, you will always be a child to your Mum. Except my Mum. We seemed to have switched roles long long time ago. Even when I was about 10, I was already looking after my sister, taking her to kindergarten,then school, cleaning, cooking, working in the garden. I was the one who got home first, so it was my job to set the fire, to carry the coal, I hated it so much.

I used to walk home with my best friend. I envied her so much, she didn’t have to do this. Our house was always freezing cold till we had the coal burning stove going , which heated up the water circulating in the pipes and the radiators.

Once my father managed to get hold of a coal called “Polish Flame”, it was quality coal. If you topped up the fire with it late in the evening, you woke up to a warm house in the morning. It was bliss.

The funny thing is,that I am doing the same right now. Maybe trying to relive my childhood? More like modify it a bit. Only this time we have a Jotul wood burning stove, which I love. Absolutely enjoy the heat it gives off, within an hour the temperature in the house is quite pleasant. But you still have to clean it, get rid off the ash, carry baskets full of logs. Like in the old days.

Now,where was I?

Oh, yes, my Mum. So I didn’t really like all the responsibilities I had. Didn’t want to look after my sis, cook and  clean, wanted to be a child.  I tried to please everyone, craved a real family so much. Used to wake up very early so I can prepare breakfast for everyone, baked cakes , cleaned the whole house ,so we can have a weekend free of chores, just us together. Mind you, did not succeed, my Mum being a perfectionist, always found some dust bunnies hiding under the bed, some half washed dishes, so we had to start everything from scratch.

As we got older, I slowly took over, felt responsible for everything  that happened in the family, tried to please everyone. Was very protective of my Mum, tried to be a buffer between her and my Dad. Loved her so much. Saw life only through her eyes, believed everything she said.  My Dad was the enemy, who did wrong, and my Mum was the poor one who’s been wronged.

Grew up, moved abroad,  but I was always there for her. Helped her anyway I could, just wanted her to be happy.

Could never make her happy. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t succeed .

I am a little wiser now. Just a little. But I do know that it takes two to make a relationship work, and you cannot put 100 percent of the blame on the other half.

Maybe my Mum never got this.  Whatever went wrong in her life, it’s someone else’s fault , never hers.

I give up. I’ve tried so hard to be the perfect daughter. In return wanted to have a Mum, a real one, who invites you to have lunch with her in the weekend, who helps you when you need her, who doesn’t criticise you , who supports you, who is always there for you…

I love her. Does she ?