Like Mother, Like Daughter

My mother is the strongest person I know. At times I don't like her, but I always love her. At times she scares me, but she always makes me feel safe. At times I think she's mean, but she's nice beyond words that I could write. It would be an honour for me to say that I am half of the woman my mother is. Like this phrase indicates, there are many things that I do just like my mother because she will always be my mother and I will always be her daughter.

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𝒮𝒯𝒰𝐵𝐵𝒪𝑅𝒩

My mother loves me like the rain loves the clouds but my mother doesn't love like the rain loves the clouds. My mother loves like salt loves the sea... One minute two are in perfect harmony and the next, the salt sticks to the rocks and mocks the waves as they flow in and out without it. The salt isn't cruel and neither is she... She's simply stubborn, like me. She told the waves how it would be and if people didn't like it, they came and then they went. I saw a lot of people who were here one minute and gone the next. But it had to be like that because I was her everything... She wasn't just meeting her own expectations of self-worth, she was modelling to me, the standard of self-worth I was to expect. If something didn't align with her expectations, it ended badly for something. And she had a lot of expectations that were specific and concrete. Sometimes, I didn't understand why she had to be so rigid and I often thought she was overreacting. At times, I still do. But nothing changed the fact that I ended up just as stubborn as she. Like Mother, Like Daughter.

I have a small circle of friends. Though small, it's strong nonetheless. We depend on, rely on and care for each other. I never had a big family but it only got smaller. I learnt that friends were the family you choose and that blood doesn't mean love. I didn't have as many boyfriends as she did... I knew that the boys who were bold enough to come, weren't usually the ones who stayed. I like to be right. I like to win. I like to stay up late at night. I can be fun, spontaneous and free. Because I'm like my mother and my mother is like me.

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𝒫𝑅𝒪𝒯𝐸𝒞𝒯𝐼𝒱𝐸

My mother is the most beautiful woman I know. When I was younger, I didn't appreciate beauty the same way that I do now... It wasn't important to me, like it was to other little girls. I didn't notice that her hair was golden like a princess', that her eyes were honey brown or that her face was as picture perfect as Michelle Pfeiffer's. It was important to me that she worked day and night, that we went on adventures like explorers, that we danced randomly to our favourite songs, that she sung me to sleep every night, that she taught me her phone number and that she loved me in the way that I loved her. It was her heart that I recognised as beautiful, long before I recognised beauty on her face.

Although she was stubborn, it never changed the fact that she would do anything to protect the people she chose to love. She was courageous, trusting and always prepared to fight tooth and nail for anyone who deemed me as anything less than the person she knew I was. She would believe me, she would lie for me, she would starve for me, she would kill for me. And I always knew that. I didn't question how it was. It simply was. There were bad people in the world... She taught me that because she didn't let the bad people stay. Sometimes, the bad people would get too close. And it was only afterwards, that I knew they were bad because they weren't there anymore. I didn't ask too many questions because I knew better than to question her. All I needed to know was what I already knew... That my mother knew what she was doing and I always had to trust that of her. She kept the bad people away so that I'd always be safe. Like Mother, Like Daughter. I can spot a bad person from a while away. And sometimes, my senses fail me. But when and if they do, the moment I realise is the moment they disappear. I know my worth because my mother showed me.

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𝒮𝐸𝒩𝒮𝐼𝒯𝐼𝒱𝐸

My mother has a heart outlined with an iridescent halo. The angels poured generosity, compassion and warmth into it until it was filled to the brim. If my mother graciously walks into your life, you have been blessed, for she is the most selfless, giving and caring person I know. Alongside a heart like this, is sensitivity. She feels the weight of the world on her perfect shoulders, especially when her heart is not met with a heart like hers. Mean words, unexpected actions, gossip, exclusion... Practically any innately human, though, unkind behaviour feels like a stab wound to my mother when it might feel like a graze to another. I often felt that her responses to difficult situations or conversations with others or I were extreme. Sometimes, she would keep her silence for days, completely isolate, end relationships or set harsh consequences. There were many times, mostly with her responses to others, that I understood why she'd felt so hurt, defeated and disrespected. But other times, especially with her responses to me, I wished she could detach herself from the feelings, recognise a bigger picture or have more understanding to create a reaction that I'd consider more appropriate. But no matter what anybody said or did, along with her stubbornness, she would feel deeply injured and mostly, for a moment too long. Like my mother, my demeanour is similar in the sense that unkindness from other feels especially difficult to manage. My love language to others, alike to my mother, is depicted through acts of service and words of affirmation. Therefore, I'm frequently left confused and melancholic when my kindness isn't reciprocated, when love isn't returned and worse, confrontation occurs. I feel grateful to share a heart similar to hers, but there's no denying that the price feels burdensome a lot of the time. Like Mother, Like Daughter.

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Stubbornness, protectiveness and sensitivity exist in our world, alongside our planned trip to Paris, our investment in politics and our obsession with otters. We're random and stupid and silly and most people don't get us but we don't care. In fact, we'd be happy if we were the last two people on Earth, dancing to Nina Cherry, playing scrabble and overdosing on red wine. Like Mother, Like Daughter... She is my everything, as am I to her.

Kisses,

COS x

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