The Kind of Child I Was and The Kind of Mom She Was

It was an overwhelming day at home today. Kids were not at their best behaviors. My youngest was throwing his tantrum, waking up from his nap. My eldest was angry with her endless homework, whereas my middle child believed he could fix the broken fan and screamed when I didn’t let him touch the tools.

I was at the edge of breakdown cliff. One more step, I might just slip and fell into the valley. The dark one. The angry beasts in the valley were ready to eat me alive. I was trying my best not to fall, then my phone rang. I looked at my phone.

“Mom”

I hit the reject button on the screen, as I just couldn’t take any more annoyance. Phone rang again.

“Mom”

I rejected again. The third time the phone rang, I gave up and decided to answer the call… In a very very irritated tone.

“Yes, what?”

“Can you come over here? I think I’m not feeling well. Your brothers said they are busy.”

“I’m busy too!”, I couldn’t hide my annoyance, and didn’t plan to hide it from that woman I call mom.

“WHY ARE ALL OF YOU BUSY WITH? I’M YOUR MOTHER! WITHOUT ME, YOU WOULDN’T BE A MOTHER YOURSELF! I SEE YOU AT MY FUNERAL THEN!” That familiar tone of self-righteousness, believing she owned me just because I came out from her womb, demanded me to give her 24/7 attention as she needed.

“Kids are not behaving themselves. Emma has an exam tomorrow and I need to revise with her!”

“Your kids are just too spoiled. You entertain them way too much, that’s why they are stepping all over you. I told you from the beginning, not to entertain them too much, or else they will be clingy to you. SO.. Can you come over or not?!” By this point of time, I really slipped and fell. The beasts were tearing me apart and swallowing me alive.

“I can’t make it today!”, and I hung up. My tears rolled down. I cried my eyes out and the kids paused and watched their mom breaking down. All the emotions poured out to me felt like a massive noise that I was so overwhelmed with. I felt choked and breathless. I felt dead inside.

The Kind of Child I Was

As the beasts finished tearing me into pieces, they left me. Dead and numb. I wiped my tears. Suddenly, my own childhood flashed back in front of me, the type of child I was, and the type of mother she was. I was the one, that cried my eyes out, and forced to soothe myself, since I was a newborn. The one, that was entertained by TV every single day. The one, that was immediately interrupted with belt and canes, when I was trying to show my negative emotions. I was that child, everyone in the family praised me for being so independent. The one, that was not clingy or emotionally demanding.

Sadly, all those were just at the surface. I was forced into becoming THAT kid, which eventually shaped me into the type of adult, who doesn’t know how to react to emotions. I had very limited (closed to none) experience dealing with feelings and emotions. I didn’t know how to react to kindness, anger, bitterness, exhaustion, let alone offer others kindness and empathy. I panicked and felt so irritated when my 2-year-old cried. I couldn’t understand why my daughter just behaved like a spoiled brat, and just couldn’t control herself. I mean, she was 8!

My understanding about children is only one, “When I was … (fill in the blank, the age), I wasn’t like this. I was caned enough, unlike these spoiled brats I produced!”

The Kind of Mother She Was

I wiped my tears. Now my mind started recalling the type of mother, my mother was. She was there in every memories of my childhood. But I couldn’t recall any memories that warmed my heart when I thought of her. I remembered her leaving me at the baby cot, and let me cry my eyes out and finally fell asleep. She was there to instruct me to behave certain way, but that’s all. I had no freedom to voice out my opinions, which I grew up feeling that asking questions in front of class or meeting room is a serious life-threatening matter. I was never starved physically, but I realized I was always craving emotionally. I was made numb inside that I started to believe that, passionate people were just too loud and rather annoying.

All of sudden, I heard a gentle and loving voice spoke to me. “I love you, and I care for you.”

“Who are you?”, I trembled.

“I am God, your Father. I love you. Let me love you.”

My tears rolled down uncontrollably… I sobbed like my 2 years old, longing to be loved, yet don’t know how to express my need to be loved.

“Father, please love me…”, I opened my heart to receive love. Then I started felt the breeze on my chest, that eventually warmed my heart.

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