"I don't like it at all that sometimes, even very often, I have no patience with my mom. And when I say this, I don't say it like a child crying because they didn't buy him chocolate. I say it like a girl in her 20s, who feels guilty every time she catches herself raising her voice, or making that arrogant silence that all grown children have in their repertoire. Me. Me, who I love very much, but who can't always be kind to her.

And this destroys me.

Because she, my mom, is the person who has given me everything. But, at the same time, she is also the person who wears me out the most emotionally. Because when we go out together, it's as if every moment has to be spent carefully, with vigilance, with one eye looking ahead and another checking to see if she's starting to get angry. Will she get angry in the mail line? Will she explode in the supermarket with a saleswoman who "doesn't know how to do her job"? Will she say something in front of others that will cover me with shame, even though I will pass it with a smile?

Yes, I admit it. I'm afraid of her anger. Because when it explodes, there is no mercy, no logic, no boundaries. And I don't want to fight with my mom. I want to go out with her and feel good. But often, she makes it impossible.

He told me himself that, after his father's death, he changed a lot. "I've become cold," he told me one day, "I don't know what to do alone, I miss everything." And he told me that for months he didn't even know where to pay the bills, because his father had done everything. And then, he blamed his father for not preparing him for life.

And I didn't accept that. That he was a gentle, liberal man who would have always supported her if she wanted to work. No one blocked her – she simply didn't see the need. She enjoyed life as a lady. And now, left alone, she looks for the culprit in others.

But I see that she is alone and weak. I feel it. She told me that her sister and brothers no longer look for her. Her friends have left her one by one. And she always says: “they envy me”, “people are different now”. But I know that it is not only the fault of others. It is more that her way of reacting, that hasty word that comes out when she is upset, that inability to accept that sometimes you have to let go, to apologize.

Sometimes I think: how is it possible that dad lived with her for 30 years? How did he cope with all those ups and downs, all those tensions that even today he throws at us all day long? He loved me very much. She tells me often. He even tells me that I was “daddy's girl”. And I hold myself back from crying. Because I feel his absence, not only as a father, but also as a balance that no longer exists today.

I love my mom. More than anything. But I don't like what's been done. I don't like that I often feel like I'm taking care of a cranky child, not a mother. And I feel guilty. Because I don't want to be harsh with her. I don't want to be upset with her. And I still get upset.

It has often occurred to me: “If I had a sister, maybe I would feel differently.” Maybe I could share this burden. Maybe we would have been together, in this shared fatigue with my mother. Maybe we would have laughed with each other after some dramatic scene. Because only another girl, only another woman, understands what it means to love and hate, at the same time, a mother who is always there, but it is never easy.

At the end of the day, I get upset with my mom because she hits me where I'm most vulnerable. And I know she's not okay either. I know she feels the emptiness of life without Dad. I know she hates herself for those outbursts, too. But we're both tired. Uncared for. Unprepared for each other.

Maybe it's time to stop waiting for her to change. But to learn how to love her, just as she is. And if one day she decides to seek help – not for me, but for herself – then I will be there. I will take her myself. I will hold her purse and her hand.

Because she's mom. And I, no matter how angry I get, I still love her. Very much."

Note: The article has been adapted by the editorial team for editorial purposes and clarity. Copyright Anabel.al / Reprinting without the permission of the editorial team is prohibited.