The other day I was thinking about why I find it so hard, in my own life, to love myself — to show myself love, tenderness, and attention. And then I realised that my mother and my grandmother were the only people who gave me boundless love, without ever asking for anything in return.
My mum worked a lot. For as long as I can remember, she held down two jobs so we’d have everything we needed and never go without. She didn’t have much help; she had to find her own way to raise two children, inside a society that wanted her to be a “divorcée” and alone for the rest of her life.
Because she had married and divorced, society — and even her own family — thought it was appropriate to tell her she was “finished” as a woman; that she couldn’t, and wasn’t allowed to, keep on living a healthy life with someone beside her.
A society that wants a woman to be, all at the same time, a mother, a wife, a lover, a worker, an always-available friend, a workhorse at her job — without complaining, without showing any negative feelings — and at the end of the day to say “thank God” and “how lucky I am.”
I want to shout shame on those who judge these women. Shame on anyone who dares to speak up and tell someone how they should live, what choices they should make, how they should think, how they should exist in this world! You are no better than the rest of us!
Before you judge someone, think very carefully — and look at your own face in the mirror first.
Everyone has the right to live the way that feels right to them — as long as they don’t trample on the person next to them.
And how lucky is it, really, to have no help and no support?
How lucky is it to have no one who understands you, no one to share what you’re going through?
My mum sacrificed so much to raise us properly, to make sure we never went without — neither material things nor love. She played the role of both father and mother.
A huge thank you, mum, for helping me grow up, believe in myself, and learn to love who I am.
I only have one painful memory of you — that you were away for so many hours. You were working, and I remember missing you. I think my brother missed you too. I remember coming home and asking:
“Where’s mum? When will she be back?”
But you were always there. The only person who believed in me, who stood by me without judgement, without telling me what to do or how to do it, without criticising every little thing about me.
And so, today — on Mother’s Day — I wanted to dedicate this letter to my mum, with all my love.
I hope that, just as she has always believed in me and supported me, I will be there for her too in whatever she needs.
This letter is for her, and for all the mothers who earn the title “mum” every single day, the hard way and the right way.
