♥ A Little More Each Day

Originally from “Sincerely, Mya”

Growing up, my mom and I argued about things like why I couldn’t eat ice cream for dinner, or what was “age appropriate” (note to my 12 year old self, a “too busy to fcuk” tshirt is not)  - but ultimately, she was my best friend. I made it out of highschool alive, but what felt like just barely – after a tailspin of events (unrelated to school itself) that would continue to haunt me well after graduation, and inevitably drive a wedge between us.

They say there’s three sides to every story, and looking back – I know damn well that my mom’s intentions were entirely good hearted, but add turmoil to teen angst and my younger-self had trouble seeing past my own feelings. At twenty, I was barely on speaking terms with her when she called to say she “had something important to tell me” and it took an argument over why she couldn’t just tell me on the phone, to even get me face to face with her. It’s kind of crazy how a feeling so intense, can be reduced to insignificant when a feeling of stronger magnitude triumphs it. I spent every day of the next five months at her hospital bedside, but I could have never prepared for how guilty hearing, “why are you being so nice?” would make me feel. 
I was angry for a long time after she passed - this time at myself. I strung together every possible scenario that could have made our relationship better – and even when I wasn’t consciously dwelling on it – I knew it was patiently waiting for a thoughtless moment to consume itself in. I can’t pin point the date, or time when it happened – but I finally found clarity when I realized simply, it. doesn’t. matter. Not because I forgave myself, but because constantly thinking and stressing about it was bringing me no closer to feeling at peace. Even if I was able to curate the perfect algorithm for a successful mother-daughter relationship, I couldn’t go back in time and apply it. It was a bittersweet realization, because on one hand – it was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, but on the other  – that was really it. No second chances, no do over. It’s natural to reflect, and to think “I could have done this, or I could have done that” – but the reality of it is,we’re only equipped with the experiences and knowledge that we’ve collected up until any given moment – which sometimes means blindly navigating through an unfamiliar situation, with an unpredictable outcome. I wish I could have told myself sooner, that this is okay - everyone goes through this on different scales, it would have saved me exhausting so much time on negativity.  At the end of the day I might never be content with the decisions I made, the way I handled myself or the situation, but in order to move on, I had to at least come to terms with it. The importance of reflecting is choosing to flourish from it, not fold. To take whatever is thrown at you, add it to your arsenal of personal life experience, and be better armed for handling similar circumstances.

Tomorrow is the three year anniversary of my mom’s death. I miss her a little too much, a little too often, and a little more each day. Despite our differences, I could have never imagined a life without her, but she provided me with the perfect example of the kind of person I want to be, and I'm lucky for having as much time as I did with her. With that in mind, I’m constantly striving to be the best version of myself, and to ultimately become someone she would be proud of.  Although we cannot change our past, we can certainly shape our future.

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