«My mom passed away six years ago, and my dad died when I was very young. I don’t even remember him anymore. I have a brother and a grandmother on my mother’s side.» Olga recalls.
Recently I remembered my childhood years. It was not such a happy time as I would have liked. But I don’t blame my mother for that. I blame my grandmother for all the trouble!
I remember being surprised from an early age at how my mother was used. She was our cook and cleaning lady.
When my father was alive, everything was fine. Maybe I just thought so then and didn’t understand anything. How old was I then? But when he was gone, life changed drastically.
Even my older brother used our own mother all the time! Grandmother, her own mother, delighted when she was able to command and oppress her own daughter. I wanted to help my mother. But what could I do then?
As soon as my mother was gone, all their love and habit of oppression switched to me. They wanted to start bossing me around, too. But I wouldn’t let them. They tried to bully me, but I didn’t try very hard. I did something for appearances, but I didn’t try very hard.
Quite recently it became clear to me that no matter how much I helped them, I would still not be good enough, or, to put it simply, bad enough.
I moved 100 km away from them. Now all my relatives think that I am bad and ungrateful. I don’t help my grandmother and my brother!
Like, how would an old grandmother live alone? Only no one knows how she chased me around the kitchen with a knife, how she beat me and hurt me. My mother was constantly being hurt by her, too.
I had to take care of my brother, too. After I left, he was left without a livelihood. He didn’t work anywhere himself. He was used to living off the shelf and at other people’s expense.
That’s how ungrateful I turned out to be!