This past week was my mom and my father in law’s birthdays and Hemal’s (my husband for those that are new) is on Sunday, so it is definitely a week of celebration for me!
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On my mom’s birthday, I posted the following on Facebook:
“Today is my Mom's birthday! She is an amazingly dedicated, loyal, beautiful, compassionate woman. And an amazing singer. I still have songs that she sang when I was younger branded in my head. I am so honored to have her as my Mom.
My soul knew who I was meant to be born to in order for me to live my purpose. There is a reason for everything. Vina Jhaveri happy birthday. Love you Mom!”
Today’s post is an ode to my mother, the woman who lovingly carried me for 9 months, birthed me, and did everything, and I mean EVERYTHING in her power to ensure my safety, health, education, and overall happiness. She had a heavy hand in who I have become in my life and me standing in my purpose today. The other heavy hand of course is my dad. I will say that this level of appreciation and love that I have for my mom now wasn’t there less than 3 years ago. In fact there was a constant resentment I had towards her for being the kind of woman that she was.
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When I was growing up my mom took us on yoga retreats, helped us with our homework (dad handled the math), and made sure we were raised cultured in our tradition and religion. Like most families, my dad was the provider, always busy financially taking care of us. My mom took my brother and I on several trips to India, just the 3 of us. That, may I add, was not easy! Why did she do all of this? She wanted to ensure we were raised and loved in ways she was never, thank god for that.
Then I hit my teenage years, where I thought I was cooler and smarter than my mom. I distinctly remember one moment when some friends were over and my mom came into my bedroom to ask us something, and I, in a very short arrogant way, replied, “No mom, just go away!” She asked me to step out of the room and I immediately knew I was showing off and the guilt hit. My mom nicely said, “You don’t talk to me like that; I am your mother” and she was right. Yet that feeling of “I know more than my mom” didn’t really go away.
We then continued into my high school and college years, where in my mind my mom lacked confidence, would fly off the handle emotionally and was never happy. I would be annoyed when I would call her with something important or with how I was upset about something, and she would reply with, “I know I had to go through the same thing…” I would suddenly feel like it was all about her and her life, and I had to handle her versus her helping me with what was happening in my world. I would either get frustrated and shut down or I would let her tell her story and just grin and bear it.
I constantly felt like I had to help her, save her, make her happy, and I could barely do that for myself. So MUCH PRESSURE! I resented her for making me feel this way. I also tried all kinds of techniques to have our relationship feel different to take the pressure off: ignore her, call her out, get angry, stay silent, but nothing took away the pressure I felt from her.