My week started on a high note. I got a phone call from my mum. As soon as I picked up the phone she burst into tears. “I have a terminal cancer, and I still haven’t married you off” she said. When I pointed out to her that, by the sound of it, my marital status was the least of her worries, she brought out her trump card. “When my eyes will close yours will open!” You can’t really argue with that, can you?


Don’t get me wrong, I love my mum as much as any daughter loves her parents, it’s just that my mum is your original drama queen. It’s as if she was lacking in some kind of empathy gene and was compensating for it through emotional dramas. When my sister was going through a major, life saving, operation, my mum called all her friends and excitedly told them all the details as if it was a soap opera. When at 20 I suffered from a severe rheumatic fever, she started matchmaking me with her friend’s son because “when my joints stop working, it will be much harder to have children”.


For her, my adult life comes down to a few things – when I’m finally going to get married and if I’m not too old to have children. I spent years arguing with her and feeling guilty; first for not being pretty/intelligent enough, then for “deserting” her and leaving the country. These days, looking from a perspective, all I can do is to be there for her. I know she loves me in her own dramatic way. I empathise with her, I didn’t exactly turn the way she hoped I would. Instead, I moved far away, I have an incomprehensible to her job; and I stubbornly refuse to settle down. So, the least I can do for her is to switch on my self-preservation instinct, and continue being the source of her misery. Someone she can blame all her misfortunes on.


And as for cancer.. well… from all we can say, it looks like she’s been a bit over reacting, but we’ll really know in a couple of weeks.

Kasha, 33, London