Fight with Mother.

I phoned my Mum today, I haven't spoken to her for about a week. She said she wasn't very well. She always says that - she never says she's ok or a bit better; she's always not well. I asked how my Dad was. She told me his Parkinsons is bad. Then I asked if my brother had been over to see her. She told me he had been over the day before. She said he wasn't doing too good. She thinks he's struggling to get into work and lookafter his kids and lookafter Mum and Dad. Tell me about it. I know what that's like. I've done it. I don't have small children but I do have poor health.

I feel bad for my brother. Will I go running to help him out? Not any more. I've done it for the past 5 years and more. There's no thanks in it, no prizes, no warm fuzzy feeling, nothing. My parents aren't the loving affectionate type. Not with any of us and not with their Grandchildren either. My Mum told me that I was loved by my Dad and her more than any of the others today. That's strange because it went right by me. I don't remember being told I was loved. Remember being told I was thick as 2 short planks - does that count? Remember being fed the same food day after day - chappatti with anchor butter and sugar or a variation of the ingredients - is that being loved? I wasn't told I was loved and I wasn't hugged or kissed; I wasn't shown any affection. I was told I ate too much and that I was fat. I was told I was lazy. My mum didn't dress us up unless we were going to the cinema as a family or if we were going to my paternal aunt's home. I didn't feel loved. I did feel terrified of my Dad. Everyday when he came home from work we all felt terrified. When we heard his motorbike at night we all used to run and hide under the dining table as if it were an air raid shelter.

My mum told me it was my duty to help my brother out being his older sister. Duty is a burden I've carried whether I was the older one or not; it didn't really make much difference. Because I was the type to get stuck in. To do what needed to be done. I wasn't all talk and no action. So everyone let me get on with it all. They probably thought - she loves it, let her get on with it. It became a habit, me doing it all and them letting me do it.

I asked my Mum if my sister nisha was helping our brother. I asked if it was her duty to help her younger brother with his responsibilities. Take some of the burden. I did this because over the last five and a half years she hasn't done much. My mum said she didn't want to talk about nisha. That's nisha off the hook then. Lucky her. I asked my mum if nisha was dead. Because that's the only excuse she would have for doing nothing for my brother.

My mum told me I shouldn't treat my nephews the way I am. What does she want me to do? Does she want me to take a lot of abuse and disrespect? Because that's what I've had for the past 12 months. It's up to me how much I let myself in for. If I let them, I'd get abuse every day. I won't let that happen. So I protect myself from them. I keep away from them. I don't phone or email or text or visit. If I did we would get into a slanging match. I get wound up, angry, frustrated, I shout and scream and swear and the situation gets out of control. Better to stay away.

My Mum told me I should have sent my neice a birthday card at least. She said it's wrong to involve the children. She's right. How do I get my brother to understand that he's hurt me, my husband and all my kids? I'm told it's wrong to hurt my niece. Is he told it's wrong to hurt his neices and his nephew? Yes my kids are grown up but they still needed their uncle, their Mama. They needed his support and love and attention. They needed to be heard too. Or did he think - they are the golden children, they have everything, they have 2 parents, they lack nothing, they don't need me to say what's right or wrong, they don't need my endorsement? Who knows. Not me.

My Mum said lots of things that hurt me. I didn't articulate my feelings to her. Instead I shouted and screamed. My Mum was getting upset, I could hear my Dad in the backgroung he was shouting. He obviously wasn't on my side. I don't blame him. It's not easy having a 49 year old daughter on the end of the phone upsetting your wife. He couldn't hear me so it could only be distressing.

As soon as I put the phone down I felt awful. I felt guilty for having put my Mother through all that hurt. I didn't think about myself. Didn't think that I had only told the truth and told her how I felt. That came later, slowly. For the next 24 hours I thought about calling my Mum back to say sorry countless times.