I was 14 going on 15 when I first experienced an existential crisis; the desperate desire for something more, the burning anxiety from feeling out of place, trapped even, the tempting pull of escapism. I would often sit on my window sill, legs dangling on the outside, gazing out into the night sky - especially when the moon was at a swell - not knowing what exactly I was expecting to receive, but it was my reprieve. I felt misunderstood, misplaced, and I needed to get out.
I was 20 going on 21 when I experienced it the second time. No longer feeling trapped or arrested, now my soul longed for retribution. I wanted, no needed, to pour my heart out and let the whole world know how they wronged me. My mother was my whole world, a world I yet to reconcile with, still harbouring hurt and confusion.
I was 28 going on 29 when I experienced it for the third time; we were surprised by a little growth in my womb. Called so, not only because my gynaecologist thought it was a cyst initially given certain factors leading up to that visit, but because this little ‘spanner in the works’ unbeknownst to us, would be the catalyst to all our growths. Carrying this little ‘Ankh’ (We unknowingly named her Anka) in me made me question everything I thought I knew. It was the awakening; I had a choice to make, my first step toward accountability. Would I be different? Will I break the cycle? I resolved that I would at least try my darndest best.
But like most growth, it was no easy feat. There were days when the fire became too intense to bear and I would just collapse, heaped on the floor, crying. There were days when the karmic gravity was just too strong and I reverted to reactionary behaviour, losing my response-ability. There were days I resented my new life, letting my fears and limitations take me hostage, regressing into that trapped, angry teenager I once was.
Most days however, all I had to do was look at the little life that I had been charged with, to grow the courage and strength to do better. It helped me forgive myself my trespasses and reminded me that it is just as important for our children to see our weaknesses as it is important for them to see our strengths. It was important for my daughter to see me make mistakes and take accountability for them, it was important that she learns that this life isn’t a race of achievements, but a journey of growth. One that we would be taking together, to heal our collective wounds.
Children are our personal mirrors; not only do we see ourselves in them, but we also see our parents in ourselves. It was then, in one fell swoop, like a light had been turned on in my unconscious mind, that I began to really see my mother. Her struggles, no different from mine, misunderstood and trapped in a life not of her design. I saw her hurt and confusion, and the numerous fires that she had walked through for us. I saw her waning spirit tire from the burdens of society and culture, and the expectations she placed on herself. I saw the karmic gravity that bound us as parents and children. My mother is my world; a world I now understand, a world I am reconciled with.
I strive now, to parent a little more consciously so that my daughter can be reconnected with her awareness a lot sooner than I, or the mothers and fathers before me did. To teach her to be without fear and to be accountable for our own actions and choices, to model self-love and worthiness, but mostly to lead a mindful life. To be fully present for her, to reflect and introspect, so that we may respond rather than react. To connect from a place of love and acceptance and not out of fear and ego.
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