For 22 years I was angry with my mother
For 22 years he was angry that she had chosen to give birth to me.
He was angry for 22 years for not giving me a chance for a better life.
For 22 years he was angry at all the blows she had taken.
For 22 years he was angry that I had been sexually abused and it did not bother her at all.
For 22 years he was angry that my brothers bombed and humiliated me and she stood by and did nothing.
For 22 years she was angry and hurt for all the opportunities she had to make up for me and she never thought about it.
For 22 years he was angry at having preferred others over and over
For 22 years he was angry at all the times I tried to commit suicide because I was fed up with my childhood.
For 22 years, he was angry at all the psychological treatments I underwent that did not succeed in healing me.
For 22 years he was angry that I had always been transparent among my brothers.
For 22 years he was angry that I had never been good enough for her and would never have been proud of me.
For 22 years he was angry because the boundary between hatred and love was so thin I could not make out.
For 22 years he was angry that it ate me from the inside and prevented me from breaking forward.
And this year I decided that with all the difficulties, the best thing is to part with the anger.
You have to forgive only once and be angry for the rest of your life.
Because Mom is the mother in the end.
And when I’m told “Listen to my mother amazing”
I breathe a sigh of relief and say heartily
Thank God I’m not my mother.