Rock Bottom

My parents are everything I am not. I didn't inherit my mother's patience and perseverance the way I didn't inherit my father's iman and ilmu. My parents aren't perfect; they make mistakes like all humans do. But while they're imperfect, the word imperfect itself sounds too perfect for me. Because I am even much further away from imperfection. Sometimes I secretly feel sorry for my parents for having me as a child. I have many failures in life and not much left to be proud of. I need my parents more than they need me. I can't live without them but am pretty sure that they'll be alright without me. I desperately hope and pray that Ikhlas will grow up to be a much better child to me and to his father than I could ever be to my mother and my father.

My father recently taught me a lot about self-care, about being kinder to yourself, which turns out to be the toughest thing for a mother to master. When you're a mother, you bear so many things for your child and you think of your child first before taking any action or decision. I was not used to the idea of self-care. The idea of taking care of yourself mentally, physically, and emotionally, in order for you to be fit enough to mother your child, to deserve your child. I am learning this the hard way. Miscalculated my strength, broke apart, crumbled down, picking myself up, getting back on my own two feet, starting over.

There are nights when I wonder will I ever heal, days when I question will I ever recover. You don't completely move on from a great fall so easily. The answer is- Insyaallah. If God wills it. Insyaallah. In God's will, there will be a way. At least just enough for me to be a better daughter and a better mother. Insyaallah. May I be a whole person again.