The Moment That I Remember Forever

That moment, I remembered seeing mom with sweat trickling down her face; her eyes were bloodshot but there was gentleness, worry behind them. It was the first time when I left my house. Nothing would have been a big deal if I wasn’t a stubborn and prideful child, while my mom was a hot-tempered woman who has been grasped by Asian values.

Ever since I was a kid, receiving harsh judgments and high expectations from my mom became a regular thing, and in the role of a daughter, listening and accepting was my immovable duty.

As I entered first grade, mom had always expected me to stay on top of the class. She sent me to to extra classes to learn math, english, literature with desire getting me to top schools. In order to fulfill her dream as well as to prepare for my “better future”, I had always been striving to be among the school’s top students.

I set aside my personal plan, forgot those hobbies that I had and replaced them with math and literature.

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I even learned to get acquainted with other classmates, gathered support in order to be the class monitor. I kept seeking others’ approval, living differently from myself just to make others happy. Still, pride will come with a cost. Consequently, I began to notice the intolerances towards me. The prejudice grew bigger and bigger until it got to its peak as I saw my new backpack lying in the mud in the backyard of the school.

During that time, I pictured myself as a puppet being controlled, lonely and powerless.

I remembered there were times that I wanted to cry, to share how stressful I was with my mother, but then realized our unwell relationship. There were times that I fell and hurt, but it was my dad who bandaged for me. There were times that I even fought with my classmates, but it was dad who patiently listened to my reason. Home in my eyes became a place just to shelter from sun, cover from rain, rest from exhausting days. Joining as many clubs as I could be a way to avoid returning home.

I dove deeper into constant conflicts with my mother, without realizing that by ignoring and neglecting our knotted problems, that huge tangled ball of yarn had swallowed us inside. Everyone has their limits, and on that day, I couldn’t help but run away. Yet, I remembered being surprised with myself realizing that how difficult it could be without a home. I began to understand not everyone can be my anchor point, each person would serve different roles in my life and sometimes I got to accept and appreciate that. I can’t always expect mom or anyone to absolutely like and understand me, but at least I should be grateful for them for supporting me.

This realization granted me a relief, encouraged me to follow what my heart wants without concerning others. I withdrew from some clubs, classes and began to spend more time for myself. I found new hobbies that I never knew before and shared them with people around me like Kpop or photography. I talked more about what I was enthusiastic about, rather than what other people liked. I became more open to share my story because I was not the only one who met difficulty with talking about feelings. More and more people came to me to talk about their problems or just to find someone for consolation. I remembered as I returned home that day, my heart was filled with guilt, apprehension, but also calmness. I accepted that my relationship with mom can not be improved. However, I am thankful her for expecting the best for me though it was in the wrong way. Everything that I have experienced built the person I’m today, open-minded and accepting.