I find myself at a loss for the exact words to honor her unseen glories—this being who is both perplexing and astonishing. This post is my tribute to her, written from the depths of my heart, solely for her—my mother, my best companion, my shadow, my soulmate. I struggle to determine which label truly encapsulates her essence; perhaps they all do? At times, it feels as if I almost crossed paths with her again—yes, again—while wrestling with the challenge of articulating what she means to me. So many things come to mind, yet it often feels like I’m left with nothing at all.
But perhaps it’s not solely about her; it’s also about celebrating our decade-long journey together. My existence has become so intertwined with hers that at times I find it hard to discern where she ends and I begin. Our relationship mirrors the intricacies of human connections—sometimes sweet, often tinged with bitterness. What? You’ve never encountered the sour notes in your relationships with friends, family, or partners? Consider yourself fortunate, but I truly hope you never reach that point of disillusionment.
What a journey it has been! It feels ineffable—though I hope she shares the sentiment. I want to share how her countless blessings have propelled me forward, enriching every aspect of my life. The ride has been nothing short of exhilarating—a true rollercoaster! Her sudden and frequent intrusions have rendered me so inactive that I often overlook the world and people around me.
I find myself perpetually preoccupied with thoughts of her, and I wonder if I possess any other subjects or individuals worthy of my attention. Is this self-centeredness? Perhaps I should thank her for imparting this ability for selfishness—or shall I frame it as self-love? A more uplifting perspective, wouldn’t you agree?
Late nights, twilight hours, afternoons, or the hush of early mornings are punctuated by her abrupt presence, echoing in my mind like a relentless drum. The pain she brings sometimes drives me to contemplate leaping from a skyscraper in desperate search of escape. Yet, a combination of Dolopar and Domstal offers brief respite, allowing me to appreciate her presence—if only a little more. To rely on an arsenal of medications for half my life has become a peculiar source of joy—though perhaps it brings her greater delight, doesn’t it? Still, I find myself reveling in the anxiety she generates more than in the other invaluable contributions she makes to my life.
Let me clarify: physical pain is not her best affliction, as I mentioned before. There are several other remarkable ways she has influenced my personal, social, and professional relationships, not to mention my emotional and mental well-being. Financially, she has left her mark as well, if we’re to include that dimension. She’s so particular that I often find myself denied simple pleasures, even those deemed healthy. As someone who adores sour and spicy foods, I don’t mind her restrictions on dairy or sweet fruits like bananas or chilled drinks—definitely triggers for her. But coffee? Is she serious? I would give anything for just a sip from my brother’s cup, but NO! If I dare to disobey, we both know the consequences that will follow. So, in my best behavior, I strive to avoid delicious temptations to evade her rewards.
She insists on my health yet fusses over even the healthiest of foods; it feels like a cruel twist of fate. Despite her strict dietary demands, she inundates me with a litany of medications—her hypocrisy astounds me. Her authoritarian edicts dictate, “Avoid loud sounds, steer clear of strong smells that might upset me, don’t expose yourself to too much heat, don’t venture into the cold, and adhere to a robotic routine—no spontaneity, no missed deadlines.”
Few realize—perhaps not even close family or friends—how often I’ve been branded names like slacker, liar, cold, or lazy, simply for coexisting with this formidable companion. I’d estimate it’s happened at least a thousand times by now. Thanks to her, I’ve become a slacker at work, at home, and even in personal projects. I know what I should do, and I possess the dedication to do it well, but she doesn’t allow me to unleash my full potential. Does that make sense? Even for her?
Just weeks ago, I was brimming with energy and focus, determined to finish this post, when she barged in unannounced, her presence stretching over the longest, darkest day I could recall. I feared she wouldn’t take her leave this time, teetering on the edge of reconciliation with her. Yet she gradually departed, only to return after a day, lingering for almost four more days before vanishing again. Her final visit was a stark reminder of who held the reins in our relationship, extending her stay for another three days. I felt akin to a cancer patient on the verge of leaving this world—lying in bed, devoid of appetite, joy, laughter, or the energy to engage with life, yet without any overt signs of illness. Anger swirled within me, accompanied by questions: Why was she here? Why did she cause me so much pain? Complete emotional and mental exhaustion was the offering she left me with upon her departure.
To add to her intricacies, she exploits my guilt and procrastination. As I attempt to make weekend plans and tackle personal chores, there she is, mocking my vulnerability, controlling my intentions and their execution with ruthless precision. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve had to cancel gatherings with friends simply because she demanded my company, retreating to a corner or rushing home, often leaving me feeling unfriendly and cold. For someone like me, who struggles to socialize with new faces, that presents a monumental red flag for networking—both personally and professionally. Yet, on rare occasions, I have managed to outsmart her, employing home remedies and, of course, medications.
One might ponder why I haven’t treated her properly. I’ve consulted doctors more times than one can count, but the medications they prescribe remain frustratingly consistent. Numbness and dizziness for almost a full day? With prescriptions like that, who could juggle school, work, assignments, personal tasks, and a social life? But maybe it’s just me and my excuses for my shortcomings. Who knows where to place the blame? Beyond the mentioned lessons, she has taught me resilience, urging me to hold tight and appreciate with an open heart the things I truly cherish and believe in—much like a real mother. It’s always her way or the highway, and I have reluctantly traversed her arduous path. However, let me be clear: my reflections do not absolve her of her actions.
