Ode to my mother

Lessons learned from a lifetime of adoration

A few years ago, I sought the counsel of a therapist. I didn’t really know why at the time but it was most probably prompted by the complex relationship I shared with my mother — a journey that you may have ventured on or will someday. Such is the power of mothers, an influence that often lingers even when we seek to break free from it. We mothers, unwittingly or not, inherit this remarkable ability to shape the lives of our children, occasionally repeating the very patterns we vowed to avoid.

As a child, I adored my mother. As an adult, I still do. I adored her so much that I could not fathom why she wasn’t reciprocating and chose also to love others (I have four older siblings). I yearned for her attention, puzzled by her choice to spend time with friends rather than shower me with her undivided focus. I craved her presence, wishing she would cater to my every need, whim, and desire. I couldn’t understand why she wasn’t my devoted servant. After all, so many of my friends seemed to have their mothers doting on them incessantly.

Little did I realize that beneath this perceived neglect lay a treasure trove of life lessons, perhaps the most crucial being the one I treasure most. Here’s what I’ve learned from a lifetime of adoring my mother: