To Mama

"Write about somebody breaking a cycle."

To Mama,

Thank you for you for giving me life, I know that the labour must've been painful because that was all you talked about when we fought. Thank you for making sacrifices, yet always choosing to sacrifice my opinions for your endeavours. But you always apologised, then continued starting the cycle again, a routine that casted spells. You've always enervated my emotional state because of how you would shower me with affection like rain does for plants. But even if rain was good, it'd end up to be trouble for you and I. Especially me, your daughter who you love to demand and reprimand. Both words mix like a gentle piano of melody and harmony, but if only they didn't hurt me as devastatingly as your words. And while others wait out this storm together, it'd grow us separate leaves. Even if there was a rainbow at the end for them, there was none but emptiness because that was how the solutions always were.

I'd like to thank you though, for teaching me to allay myself so I could assess my feelings without negative emotions. But It's quite obvious that I'm self-taught, a constant in my life. You, yourself, after you calmed down would use it to pacify me. The same method you would use to calm toddler Asya when she had a fit because a small thing made her uncomfortable. I always knew that you preferred tiny Asya to progressing Asya. Who wanted to see you watch her grow through the seasons. But you instead liked her--. The tiny Asya wasn't even introduced to the idea of verbal battles and violence. Because tiny Asya had yet to show that she had to stand her ground in order to reach the only thing that was left tumbling through the years, herself.

I wonder if you ever looked back at your life and even tried to have a moment of silence to reconnect with your younger self. Because that younger self wanted attention so badly, it manifested into its current self and onto her child. I know that life wasn't easy back then, I know that you needed to heal but that didn't mean I was your method of healing. I also know that it isn't your fault that you ended this way, but it is your fault for the treatment I received. Because you were supposed to be Asya's Amazonian warrior. Because that's how I knew you.

I love you still, because I know you tried. I know you tried to be unlike your mother and father and it still pains me that you had to capitulate. All because you didn't even have the resources like I did to educate yourself or friends to support you. Or anything at all because of how neglected you were that you didn't even know you were starved. I can't bring myself to even willingly sever my ties with you because even if you tried building around your trauma it would come back. So, I hope this is your wakeup call. I don't want you to leave this planet without getting what you deserve. I'll try to be there, but I'm also on this journey of healing.

I'm now a traveler on multiple journeys in the guise of one. Which is what I've always wanted because I never wanted to settle for less and I never liked being trapped. So using my newfound freedom, I'll liberate the tiny Asya who was the first to begin seeing the hurt. I can now look back at her, and progressing Asya, and current Asya. Knowing that I've learned from my friends who love me for myself and fought for me to acknowledge the Asyas before me. To my teachers who provided me a place of serenity. And myself, for trying to keep my head above the water even though I was tired.

You probably never thought that this day would come. But I always did, because I knew that this life you gave me was too ugly to be reality. That the world isn't about growing up, reproducing and dying. I admit that there were moments of my life when I wondered a big why. To answer those questions that no child could comprehend, that child tried looking for an adult to answer. But that babe was too shy to try to push herself over that wall. She also had nobody, so she had to make up many things.

My imagination and curiosity was very powerful. It could let me dream whatever I wanted. But no dream of my childhood ever came true. No matter how hard I tried to fantasise about a big sister who'd listen to me speak, respected and trusted me and was the adult I needed. She never came, she never glistened down from heaven for me. Because if you couldn't even listen, it was hard to believe others would. But I still longed for her and held onto this balloon that was tied to my hand throughout my odyssey of growing up. The only time she'd be gone was when reality would hit me. It took multiple reality checks for me to realise that this mental Neverland was unhealthy. And it hurt, it hurt the same as you, because something that protected me for so long was actually hurting me.

So yes, you hurt me more than you and I will ever know. And yes, there's a part of me that is echoing that forgiving will never be visible. But there's another part arguing, because of the memories we built that adds up to the complexity. But even with it all, I would never want my childhood for anybody to experience and it ultimately decided what I should do. I'm even amazed that I was afloat but then again I was struggling and barely knew how to swim. And after every storm is there an aftermath and how we respond to that sets up the foundation for many. One of which is our relationship. So please choose for the better.

Goodbye,

Anastasia