The big issues are undeniably prime fodder for fights. Her dependence on me despite being capable herself. The unequal expectations towards me versus my brother. The assumption of my role and responsibilities to shoulder. My efforts brushed off often with nary a gesture of appreciation. Her unintentional emotional blackmail through personal recounts of being a bewildered, fumbling old woman.
Then there are the small things that build friction. When my wardrobe gets rearranged against my preference, for no apparent need or reason. When all I want to do after a long work day is to tune out, instead of participating in conversations of daily minutiae. When my clothes are folded, in a mess, and placed in the wrong pile.
I guess the operative phrase here would be, "too close for comfort".
Don't get me wrong. I do love her, faults and all. If anything happens to me, I know that she will be my unfailing rock. In that sense, her love may perhaps be the most unconditional and sacrificial I ever experience. In practice, I am honestly quite embarrassed to be pampered with not having to do my own laundry or feed myself.
But I also now realise that I have changed. While the idea of household chores used to daunt the younger me, I find myself wanting to take charge so I can do it my way. Is this a manifestation of my decisive yet subconscious step into adulthood, where taking ownership actually feels good? But am I being too naive to want freedom, when every Asian child is meant to be shackled to the family?
For all practical purposes, it is high time to move out just so my temper does not properly boil over. I hate having to lose my cool, then feel bad for acting like a spoiled, ungrateful child. Likewise, when I brush off her attempts of eliciting sympathy, my remnant feelings are that of annoyance, guilt and anger at being placed into this conflicted position.
Who said parenting was easy? And whoever knew being a child was this difficult?
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