By Dear Mother,
It’s me, the middle one. I hope you’re well. I know I don’t ask you enough. I guess I wrongly assume you’re stronger than I am, so there’s no need for questions pertaining to your well-being. When you ask me, however, there are stories in me that I could recite to you. I could outline my life to you in sketches — but I don’t. I choose not to. Part of my choice to not open the book and let you in is because I know you’d take one glance at the cover and give me that look.
I guess I wrongly assume you’re stronger than I am, so there’s no need for questions pertaining to well-being.
You know the one… where you tell me how what I want out of life isn’t realistic; that I need to stop dreaming and take the conventional route. I wish I could tell you how your lack of acceptance at my desired career path pains me. I wish I could describe to you the sadness that washes over me when I make the trek up to law school everyday. I sometimes pluck up the courage and prepare myself to tell you that I’m pursuing the career I want on the side and actually getting somewhere, but I never make the conversation in my head a reality.
I’m scared you wouldn’t be happy for me; rather, you’d be disappointed that I’m not dedicating 100% of my time to making your dreams for me a reality.
And I could always handle your anger and annoyance, but I fear your disappointment would wound me in a way I wouldn’t be able too handle, so I stay silent. I hope one day we’ll play out the conversation in my head and it’ll go the way it goes in my hopeful mind. Until then, you’ll keep asking me how I am and I’ll keep lying and say, I’m fine.
Love this article..Thanks for sharing. Love the appreciation of motherhood in your letters beside the hurt. God bless you all and help our mothers understand our hurt and feelings.
Thank you Imane! I’m glad you benefited from it.
profound and from the heart. I am sure many mothers and daughters will identify with it. JazakaAllahu khair from addressing this uncommon issue.
Thank you so much!