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My mom's entire identity is build around suffering in kitchen. The more she suffers, the more she complains. And she fucking believes, that I should be proud of her suffering.

I will be fucking happy with bread and cold sausage. That is the amount of suffering I expect her to do for me. Maybe, then we could actually spend sime time together too.

But no........... noooooo...... She first wakes up hours early just to make some retarded breakfest, that is insanely time inefficient, and then gets angry, that I don't value her suffering.

And then, when I complain, there is always that one feminist in the comments trying to explain, that it is my fault, that she is suffering in a way that not only did I not choose, but I literally cannot stop my mom from doing.