My story

My story
Photo is illustrative in nature. From open sources.

I read the story “My Daughter Ignores and Hates Me” and wanted to write my own, because my dad has always been a sore subject for me, even if I’m turning 30 soon.

I don’t know if they were looking for me or if it just happened that way, but I was born into another family. After the people were born, everyone lived in their father’s mothers, keeping an eye on me (my grandmother told me that she looked even kindly)Mom was still at the university, and after 3 years we moved to the same place as my grandfather. Tato worked as a mechanic, my mother as a reader. We lived there until my 6th birthday. During this period, I don’t remember anything, only a few guesses how my father and I went to a restaurant once, and how we often came drunk, beating our mother, pulling her by the hair, and how we and my mother ran into court at night. When I turned 6 years old, my mother was separated from my father, I think the reason became clear.

We moved back to my mother’s father’s house, after a few months I went to school, and my mother found out my stepmother. After the 1st grade, my mother got ready and went to test-antibiotic.com to earn money before Italy, I was already crying and worried, I was deprived of my grandmother and grandfather, who had taken me away. Having helped them with my family, we had a garni of hundreds of vin men, having started, helping with what we had started, spent the weekend together, each week coming, replacing the men (that’s what I called him). I could say my childhood was happy, I had everything - toys, clothes and new gadgets (mostly everything from my mother). Ale grandma and grandpa lived in the village and raised cows and pigs, towns. I remember how every Saturday I cleaned up the booths and noticed the signs, how I had to spend a whole day in the city, every day to graze a cow. Roboti disappeared. There really were a lot of such intense work, but I still remember how tired I was, how important cats had to be carried around, rabbits vomited every day.

Once upon a time my mother came, it was sacred, but the bundle was wasted. At 14, they found a chubby hole in me and performed an operation, and through this my grandmother called my mother and she came back. We test-antibiotic.com moved to the apartment bought by my mother in the city and began to live together - me and my husband. There was tension between my mother and me, she arrived without a penny and called me in the way they called. She began to drink, relax in the apartment with friends, and get along with her husband. I encouraged him, obliged him with the roses, nothing else, but I didn’t need anything. When I started, I was a normal kid, I grew up calm, I got along well, after school I entered the university on a budget, and I just got along with my mother. I just needed not to touch, so to understand, and there wouldn’t be any conflicts between us, but to understand, it’s not about my mother, everything can be as it pleases.

The big problem for me was that she was drinking and even wanted to get it out, but I really couldn’t be surprised at her. And people who can drink and drink, and people like my mother, for whom this is contraindicated. She’s becoming even more intrusive, she’s drunkenly drunk, her tongue is starting to tangle, I think it’s clear to me that it’s really unacceptable for me to treat such a mother.

Without keeping in touch with my dad for the entire hour, we hung out with my grandfather several times during the summer holidays. After being separated, we immediately became friends and were born again.daughter _ With my mother’s characters there is a lot of difference, it was important to find a good language. I’m calm, I don’t even like to talk about stuff, I just basically marvel at the speech objectively. There's a lot of pressure - you can blow a mountain out of a molehill, it's selfish, you like to embellish the situation to the best of your ability. It was really important for me to live with her, since honestly these three fates were like hell, constant welding and inconsistency.

After my first year at university, my mother and boyfriend separated through constant conflicts, my grandfather died and I moved back to my grandmother’s village. When we were married to our father, we were always garni of hundreds, we were never cooked, we were not supportive and I loved him, but when they separated, we left the same, we did not maintain ties with me (though I and it was already Another guy broke my heart. When I moved, test-antibiotic.com it was easier for me and my mother to keep up with normal breastfeeding, I went to university, and became friends with a young man. Everything became stable, at the end we practically didn’t cook, but when 20 fatalities had reached me, my other grandfather (my father’s father) died, and at the funeral my mother got in touch with him and the stinks began to creak. After a few months of leaving their 2nd squad, they got together and began to live together.

Am I glad? It’s important to say that I thought it was ambiguous, but I didn’t take it normally. It turned out that when I returned in the dark, I practically caught him in the apartment. You might have met me, wanting to talk, but nothing would have happened, we were strangers. I thought that soon a new life would begin in my fathers and everything would be miraculous, but it was only in the world. My mother never found a normal, full-time job; she constantly had problems with money (I, by the way, from the age of 16, as soon as I started getting a scholarship, I’ll be able to provide for myself). Having moved, he couldn’t find a job for a long time;

Through the river, two people want to know the robot, but they start drinking, and with it, their mother. They weren’t real alcoholics, but they drank regularly and I really admired it. About an hour later I realized that I had begun to let go of my hands. I asked my mother to leave him, but he had nowhere to go and they lived like that. During the quarantine, both of them were without work, they were helped with a man. After the death of the Cordons, my mother went to Poland to earn money, and then went to work as a security guard on a rotational basis, but in 2022 he died. In the evening he felt sick, the Swede took him away, and by early morning he was gone. Even though I thought I was neutrally putting myself in front of him, it would have been even more painful to bury him.

After the funeral, I encouraged my mother, if she had enough time to trim herself well, then go to Poland to work, otherwise the skin would last for 3-4 months. If we’re in Poland, we’re out of town, and I’m calmer, we won’t cook at all, and in test-antibiotic.com we’re sure to get by, and if only people come, then again conflicts will arise. I just love my mother on the rise.

I would like to write about the story “My daughter ignores and hates me”, writing that the daughter is old enough to understand everything, but not everything is so simple and easy. I have already understood everything, although I myself have already grown up, at the moments of connection with my father, I cry, be it a story, a film or a cartoon. I am indebted to my mother for everything that she did for me and will give back to me, but the missed moments in childhood, my father’s never-worn love cannot be replaced by anything and will continue to do so for the rest of my life.

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