Ironically, up until I was 24, the image I had of my parents was almost flawless. Dad is hot-tempered — sure, but he’s one of the smartest men I have known. Mom gets too emotional sometimes, but I don’t think I have ever met anyone as giving as her.
The crisis
One way or another, I heard stories — to be more accurate, other sides of the stories I already knew. These anecdotes used to be something I was so proud of:
How they got into trouble because of their honesty and integrity
How their love overcame their disapproval from my grandparents and society
And many more little stories that were romanticized for far longer than necessary. Maybe they lied to me. Maybe I was doing all the romanticization myself. Maybe it was both.
The thing that hurt the most was not how the stories came to be what they are. It was seeing that my parents were not who I thought they were.
They got into trouble because they couldn’t think straight
Their love was selfish. It hurt the people who loved them the most
I was disappointed, unexpectedly, by my parents. I found it rather contradictory. Shouldn’t one only be afraid of disappointing their parents and not the other way around?
That was something incredibly difficult to sit with. So, I decided to confront my mother.
The talk
It was a difficult talk. I’m glad I had that, regardless. Maybe it’s one of the inevitable that you must go through in life, to realize:
Your parents were once just kids who tried to get through adulthood with just as little clues as you have now.
Here are some of the revelations I had.
1. Parenting is a difficult job
My mom had my brother when she was 26. I am 26 now. I don’t know how to raise a child. I probably will not wake up one day and suddenly know how to, either.
The mistakes that I made, the pain that I went through, the traumas that I carry on long after — none of that will magically disappear the day my child is born into this world.
Will I try my best to not inflict any pains from my own past on them? Sure. Am I 100% confident I will never do that, subsconciously? I cannot promise. Neither could our parents.
Being a person is difficult. Being an adult is even more challenging. Being a parent? Pftt, I don’t think we can truly understand the true scale of responsibilities and hardship that this entails.
If I fucked up, it’s not just me, it’s my own kid that is affected. If my kid ends up a bad kid, it’s not just my family but other families end up being hurt. The stake just seems too high.
It’s better to play it safe and keep the darkness to myself and myself only, if I haven’t figured out how to deal with it on my own.
2. Healthy coping mechanism was a luxury
My mom lived in a world where therapy didn’t exist and mental health was a myth. When people still worried if they have something to eat for dinner, that was not an era where people worried about how they feel.
A lot of the traumas my mom went through, she bottled them up deep inside her. Do they disappear? Never, not like that. I started to understand the rare outburst of emotions I saw in her since I was a kid.
I wish they had therapy. That’s what got me through my burnout. My broken relationship and friendship in that one year took over 2 years to process and heal. And even now, I sometimes still feel the trigger.
I forgot that, after all, we are all human — including our parents. Unless your parents are narcissistic, they probably were the one who beat themselves up the most for the mistakes they made.
With the things that my mom went through, it was a miracle she still turned out to be the loving and caring woman she is today, despite the insecurity and self-blame she carried for way too long in her heart.
3. Those who love telling stories are the ones not in the stories
I realized, stories have sides. My side, your side, my friend’s side, your friend’s side, the passerby’s side, even some-guy-who-barely-heard-it-from-someone-else’s side.
When you were not in the position to directly witness the story, it’s confusing to see which side you should take. But even then, it doesn’t give you the right to take ownership of the one side and dismiss the others.
Seeing my mom almost losing her breath amid the crying, part of me wished I never asked. It was as if I dug up a rusted knife and cut open the wound that was still swollen for the last 20 years.
I’m glad I did, though. But maybe, I could have started with a less judging and more open heart. I gave many the benefit of the doubts, but I didn’t gave my parents any.
The friend
Ever since the talk, the bond between us has extended from the one between mother and daughter to that between friends.
Friends don’t judge what you do.
Friends take your side before anyone else could.
Friends stand with you and let you know that no matter what happened, you did the best that you can.
My mom is truly my first ever friend. She loves me despite my flaws and helps me grow (quite literally) despite the hiccups in life. And even though it took 26 years, I finally took on my role to be hers.
For once, I could give her the company she thought she would never have.
If the world is ever turning against her, I will make sure to always be by her side.
Instagram: @lifewithmido | Medium: Mido
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