My Mother & Fellow Soul

It's Mother's Day. A day to celebrate all the mothers out there, but I'm going to take this time and space to gush about my favorite. 

When I was a young child, I always admired my mother. I thought she was the most beautiful creature ever. She smelled like home and I would sneak into my parent's room whenever I could, just to lay my nose to her pillow and smell her scent (I was like 7, that's not creepy, right?). But once I began going through those glorious years of puberty, I started resenting all the rules I previously accepted without question: bedtime by 8:30pm, no parties, no boys, no hanging out with those friends, no, no, NO! I had all these rules placed on me, and my mother's reasonings never made any sense to me. Our communication was not in sync and we didn't know how to talk things through. There was no respect, no listening, and no resolution. That was mostly due to my pubertal state of neural development and the counterintuitive Korean culture in my family, as I now know, but with this push back, along with running a house of 4 children with a husband that worked all the time, she withdrew. I broke her spirit with each interaction we had, and I didn't even care that we didn't have a positive relationship. Instead of facing our issues and differences, I eagerly ran away to UCLA.

But then, my father fell ill halfway through college and I had to suddenly leave and work to make money to come back to school. Ever since we went through the extremely humanizing experience of professionally working together in two different companies and emotionally supporting each other through my father's brain virus and our resulting family struggles starting four years ago... things have changed for my mother and me. 

Instead of seeing me as "daughter," or seeing her as "mother," we slowly began to see each other as fellow souls, trying our best to figure out this weird as hell world we exist in. I saw her as Stephanie, the introverted analytical artist who observes her world with with curiosity and acts with caution. She saw me as Cynthia, the extroverted analytical artist/nerd who lives in her world with curiosity and acts impulsively. We have similarities. We have differences. But that's all OK.

Yesterday, we spoke on the phone and she and I spent a good chunk of time telling each other about the positive experiences we've been having in our different worlds. She told me how she's been noticing an ease and joy--an awareness-- to life she hasn't experienced in a while. For the first time since shit hit the fan, she's feeling content and free to actually pause and enjoy life with the leisure she spent most her life lacking.

I am proud to say that my mother is a straight up warrior. Though she used to be supremely pessimistic and driven by fear, she's been allowing the negative experiences in her life to guide her to growth and evolution. She has endured so much and has still managed to see the light and shine to be the amazing human she is today. She remains open to new experiences and has been able to learn and apply her learnings to better herself and her family. She inspires me always.

At the end of our phone conversation, we acknowledged that we both have a tendency to ruminate and forget our current state of joy .  She told me, "Cynthia, if either of us forgets how beautiful life is, we have to reach out to each other for that reminder. OK?"

Yes! I will always always always come crying to you mama for the reminder that anything is possible, and that happiness is an acheivable mindset to work towards. 

Thank you for your sacrifice, your wisdom, your joy, your vulnerability, and your unconditional love. Mama, you are my super star!!