Today marks the first day of my I-do-not-know-when-to-end English diary.
The reason why I am doing this even though I positively know that no one would ever read, even though keeping a diary is considered to be completely private, is that I need to escalate my English writing and speaking skills to the same extent as my Korean fluency.
So, first, I am going to talk about my mom. Mom.
She is a mother of two grown-up daughters and has been single since the end of the 90s. I cannot recall the exact year, but it was around when I was 6th grader.
Back then, people did not really admit that they were separated or divorced, which force their children to lie about their family status. My mom never got nerves to speak the word divorce up until, now. She instead says, "Do you have any idea how hard it is for a woman to raise children by herself?"
My answer to her rhetorical question would be, "Yes? I do know it very well because I feel like that is exactly what I am doing right now since you had a stroke? And I am much younger than you were when you became on your own? And did you ever hear me complain? Did I every try to shoulder the burden or responsibility on you by saying I want to die? I do not think so." However, I remain silent during the entire time she sobs and cries about how miserable her life is and how I treat her inappropriately with no respect.
It was about my 1st or 2nd year in middle school when I first realized that my mom had a mommy issue. Her brothers, or my uncles, were physically and mentally abusive; her mother, or my grandmother, was negligent of her daughter and the violence that silenced the little girl. Later, the domestic violence and negligence made her choose the wrong man to marry who later became my father.
(For your information, far later, their wrong decisions took the greatest toll on me and my sister. But, this is quite obvious, so I will continue.)
She was abusive when I was little. When things did not go the way she anticipated, she got mad and started to hit me with anything that she could get a hold of. This was (and probably is) quite common in Korean households, but that does not mean teaching a child a lesson by scolding, yelling, and hitting with a stick is justifiable. Just like the violence against her narrowed her sight and induced her to get married to a man with no gig, the violence against me by my mom twisted my personality.
Gosh, this is going to be appallingly long. I will wrap this up here and pick it up later.
The point here is, I am so sick and tired of my mom lamenting her life of which I am forcedly a big part. She hates how her brothers negatively influenced her but she repeats after them by committing violence against me; it is handed down from generation to generation by taking a different form.