As a woman, I admire my mother. But as her daughter, I hate her.
Letting go of all the pent-up angers and hatred I have kept locked in my chest for a long time.
As a fellow woman, I admire my mother so much. But as her first-born daughter, I hate her.
You see, my mother is like any other mother of other daughters like me. She is not perfect. Just like any other mothers, she makes mistakes too. She can have her shortcomings too.
Despite all of these, she still tries her best everyday to be a better mother for her children. Everyday, she makes sure to provide all our needs — she cooks for us, she cleans the house, and she goes to work for us. And as her child, I am proud of her for being a mother to us.
As her fellow woman, I’ve seen both her good and bad days. I’ve seen her struggles and sorrows. I’ve seen her get angry at her life. I’ve seen her hide herself inside their room whenever she’s sad and frustrated with life. I’ve heard her cry even if she doesn’t want anyone to know. The same as, I’ve seen her celebrate her wins in life. I’ve seen her laugh at small things that made her happy. I’ve seen her let the joys of life take over her sadness.
I admire her, for still being able to keep up with life after all the struggles and sacrifices she has to experience everyday. I admire her being strong despite the adversities of life. I admire how courageous she is to face every challenge life would throw at her.
However, as her first-born daughter, I hate her.
I hate her for not being able to witness my ups and downs when I was able to see through her. I hate her for not taking her time knowing her eldest child.
I hate how she was never there to witness me grow up and become the woman that I am now. I hate how she was never there to wipe the tears in my cheeks when I tripped myself from playing tags with my childhood friends when I was five. I hate how she was never there to tie my hair up before I go to school.
I hate her for not being present during my kindergarten graduation. I hate her for not being present during my tenth grade moving up ceremony. I hate her being absent for the most part of my life.
I hate how when I look at her unhappy face, a voice in my head would always say, "she hates you". Even if in truth she doesn't hate me, when I think of how her life could've been different if I wasn't born, I can't stop myself from thinking that at some point in her life, she actually hated having me.
I hate her for making me feel stupid most of the time. I hate how her presence made me feel like I have to constantly walk on eggshells around her. I hate how her actions alone can make me think of a thousand different worst case scenarios. I hate how scared I am of her.
I hate how she would always prioritize my two younger siblings more than me, her eldest child. I hate how she would always expect me to give way for my siblings. I hate how I have to be a mother to myself while I watch her be a mother to my siblings.
I hate her but I still love her. She's my mother. Even if she hasn't asked for forgiveness yet, I have already forgiven her for all the pain she has caused me.
I hate her but I am still thankful to her for allowing me to live and witness the beauty of this world.
I hate her but I am still thankful that she's my mother because I was able to experience being taken care of by my grandparents. I was able to experience being taken care of by my nanay.
I hate my mother for being absent in my childhood and teenage life, but I understand why she has to. In order for me to live and have a comfortable life while growing up, she has to live in another city to work for both of us.
I hate my mother but I never resent her for the pain and sadness I have to experience because of her and her absence. Afterall, she was able to make up for her absence in my life by finally taking me to her care.
She may not be perfect and I might have hated her for her shortcomings in being a mother to me, I still love her. I am still thankful that I have her as my mother. I might have hated her, but that does not stop me from seeing the sacrifices she has to make for our family.
The pains and sufferings, the joy and laughter, and everything in between — I love my mother for who and what makes her herself.
As her fellow woman, I see right through her. As her daughter, I see right through her.
If one would ask me if in another life I would wish for the same family, particularly a mother, I'll say yes immediately. I would definitely wish to be reborn in the same family that I have in this life. I would still want to come out from the same woman's womb that birthed me in this world in another life — just maybe, a better version so I could experience a life there with lesser pain and sadness.
Happy 47th birthday, Mama. I love you with all your flaws and imperfections. I pray for you to have more birthdays to celebrate with us. Please always be healthy. I apologize for my shortcomings too as your eldest child, as your eldest daughter. One day, I'll be able to give you the life we always dreamed of having so you and Papa don't have to overwork yourselves just to be able to put food on our table and provide for our needs and wants. I love you. I hope you were able to enjoy your day.
