A daughter

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

Salam,

My mother raised us all 5 of us by herself since I hit puberty. We were all going through our youth and was in the middle of our teenage angst, and she had to face us all by herself. She was the good guy, and she was also the bad guy. She was the one cooking us breakfast and dinner, before work and after, each and everyday, and also was screaming on top of her lung to discipline us all. Try to discipline a child of the city who was exposed too much by the media, and learned everything too quickly for their age. She was the mother, and she was also the father. As far as i could remember, i used to fear her wrath, she was VERY strict, and on most time I felt she was on to get me. and back then i remember telling myself, I never want to be like her...I'll be gentle, and loving & supporting mother. So little did I know...

When i 14, I remember starting to listen to all those noisy music. I will take the bus and go to the city and meet up with friends to watch rock concerts and underground live shows. I had far too many piercings on my ears, and adoning shaved head just because I can't stand being 'all perfect'. The more i expressed myself, the more I conflicted with my mother. Back then, I didn't understand what was the big deal was, and I keep telling her I was not dumb to take care of my own self. Back then, i'm sure she was just watching my back not understanding why i was pushing her away. One day, she found out I was smoking. The whole family, including my brother gotten very upset with it,  but I still keep telling them that I know what I was doing, and truth is I don't mess with anyone's life. If there's any life that is messing, it was just MINE. No one understands me (waa-waa-waa...*rolleyes*) would be such a cliche thing to say, but home was not where my heart was. I spend more time on my music outside the house, and finding family among my 'friends'. 

I had good friends, who accepted anyone and everyone, didn't go hurting on anyone and was not mean to anyone. We all had our way of expressing ourselves, and most of those ways by our cultural standard was something much of a 'taboo'. My mother keep asking me to keep my distance from my 'friends' and choose the 'better' ones. At that age, I was already tired with 'perfect' looking teenager who take pleasure on putting every person who is different, down. Girl fights, drama and competition of the smartest was something i hated. So my mum was shoving me these people i couldn't stand, I don't blame her now, we tend to see nice things and hope our children likes it too. She still insist i should dump all my 'trouble' friends. Then one day I told her, all the reason I was failing was none of these people's fault but my own, so I made a pact with her and told her I'll get my grades up if she'll just let me choose who my friends were. She agreed, and let me go with some trust. 

In school, teacher hated me because I speak my mind way too much. I talk back, and I tend to do my own thing. My mum made sure I keep my grades up, so although I was always in fight, messing up with the authority of the school, they can't kick me out because I was not failing. I walked out of class if i can't stand 'prejudice' teacher -those who just hates your guts because you're not cookie cutter perfect student. I always joined in the 'troubled' class for their art subject because I was in science stream (insisted by my mother), I expressed myself there and was discovered by their art teacher. One day, the teacher called my mother and told her how talented I was. Of course since I rarely communicate with anyone at home, no one really know I draw & paint. For the first time, my mum received a call, this time not because i showed a 'middle-finger' to the English teacher. This time, she was starting to feel proud.

I pursued with Art and expressed myself more. I have more piercing than ever, and had purple coloured hair when i was 16-17. My mum didn't like it, but I was happier. So the improvement was acceptable to her. I was still smoking, and I still attend rock concert, but I was loving school because i was finally good with something there. Although i was the 'black sheep' in school, I was elected as the 'head of school decoration' committee, participating in mural painting throughout the school. I would still drive the schoo teacher crazy, but the fact I was doing well in school, the headmistress barely had anything to say. Once i fell asleep in Biology, I remember the teacher was screaming on top of her lung, looking all crazed up. "You'll definitely FAIL in your final exam, and you'll NEVER be succesfull". I still remember the look on her face when i did a victory dance in front of her when i told her I got a 'D' for her subject, and i did not Fail as she said i would. "Nyeh nyeh, I did not fail". I was one of those student who the school was convince, the best that would come out of me for my final exam, is I pass. Even my mother thought the best i could do was just to pass my high school. I took extra art class, and thanx to that and my love for maths...my overall percentage in school final exam had me graduate with 1st class SPM(Malaysia Education Certicate) grade. My mother was more suprise than anyone else. Little by little, we accept each other in our life.

Me going to University did not change who I was. I was not prepping myself all neat and clean to impress the lecturers and the professors. I stuck with my torn jeans, 12 piercings altogether now, pierced tongue and mohawk hair, strutting my way in a 'Malay/Muslim' dominated university. To say the least, I was easy to hate by the pious one...and I was the favorite among the 'liberal' ones. At the time, i couldn't care less about religion...just as long as you don't hurt anyone, you're okay on my book. I had to deal with preachers, condemning everything I do and saying how i'll burn in hell. Again, I got sick with those 'holier-than-thou' people who look all nice and squeky but find pleasure in back-mouthing every one who is different from them. The contradiction of 'nice-ness' pushed me away into seclusion. Studio mates hates me, I'm frank with my opinions, and most of them hated it. I attend class, because i love the creative subjects, i stayed for the learning process but i was alone because I hated 'pretending'. It was here that my addiction grew, I was addicted to suffering in many forms....On most times, I find myself getting a 'pick-me-up' fix just to stay sane because everything else was making me depressed. People was driving me up crazy, family was driving me up crazy, I was driving myself crazy. 

Because I was alone, I was exploring myself with many strangers...being spontaneous and acting crazy every day. It was liberating because when I was at that state, it was the only time that the world did not 'hurt' me. My mum was worried, my brothers gave up trying to 'discipline' their baby sister, to the point My mum was crying and praying all the time. My self value, to be honest was something i couldn't care less with. At that point, I really did not care what people thinks. I was described as crazy then. To some, I was fun; to some, I was a satan. Then I got myself in Jail. I took it nonchalantly. I was in because i failed my urine test. I didn't get the change to talk to my family, so when i finally released, I felt guilty to my mother. Here she was all alone, trying to keep her sanity to raise her children in this crazy city, I let the world get the best of me without a fight. I let go, and I went loose and lost myself. I expected that she'll loose her temper this time, like everytime i screw anything up. But, to my suprise, she hugged me in embrace and just accept me as her daughter, rejoining her. We talked a lot after, I expressed everything that a daughter should not talk to their mother. We yelled, we cried, but this time we didn't bottle it up inside. This time, we really communicate. If back then, everytime she yelled and advice me, its either me having no chance to explain myself, or i feel it was no use of explaining. That one night, she told me having her heart broken by someone she loved, and having to raise 5 children with nothing but good hope. A story that I never once asked her. I realised all these time, It was not her that did not understand...it was me who didn't take time to realise.

It took me 2 years after my 'jail' incident, to finally turn a new leaf. I had a new perspective in life, and had so much appreciation of life. Instead of focusing the world's insanity and the crazy people in it, i was trying hard to keep focus on my own sanity. Some got upset how mellow i had turned, because they loved my 'crazy'-couldn't care-less-loud attitude, but to those who knew me well, just know that deep inside i'm still the same. Back then, i would never imagine in a million years that me and my mother would be this close. but Alhamdulillah, I'm so glad after everything i had to go through, after having to watch everything I did on the sideline, she still accepts me as her daughter and rejoice me like I've done nothing wrong in my life. God's mercy is in everyone, and we could definitely see it in parent's unconditional love and acceptance. Now, going through that and reminding myself about what my mother had to go through, I'm learning to gain that faith and mercy to raise my step son and my own children. It's a practise that takes years to gain, finding forgiveness in every mistakes....finding love in every fault, finding faith and trust in every lie your child come up with. 

Watching my step son tippy-toe around me, finding loop holes to skip homework, and had to nagg everytime he lies and fail to listen to our advice, i was realising how i sounded more and more like my mother. At first i was worried...Oh No, I'm torturing this boy. I'm such a fun killer...which i vowed never to be. How can I let him do this...How can i just let him be that...? As i was sharing all my parental delimma with my mum, she told me that 'sometimes, the best you can do is care and it is shown everytime you clothe him, everytime you feed him, everytime you're concern about him' Everything else, she said, was a matter of having fate, and pray that God protects them when it's beyond your power. Of course, We'll loose our mind in the brink of trying to shape a person, but don't forget to be patient and let them learn. And also to remember when to let go. Having all these concern everytime i deal with my step son, I started to remember my mother and with every scream and shout, she had nothing but concern and she fought hard before finally letting me go. 

I'm not worried about being the bad-guy anymore...but don't get me wrong, i'm not ready to get all 'SUPER STRICT' mummy either. I just need to know my place, although there are times my concern would get me 'monster' like, at one point i just need to learn to hope for the best for them...

Love+Peace,

H