This afternoon, with my usually-relatively-empty house bustling with people for once, I awkwardly sat on a kitchen tool making dumplings as the only person present who had not gifted my mum with flowers or food of any kind. An impromptu massage earlier in the day had been declared sufficient and something that would stay with her for the rest of her life but I was definitely not convinced. Living my life subconsciously on Facebook, as a gesture of an accurate representation of what was going on in my life and mind, I posted this picture onto my profile:
It doesn't take a lot to make my mum happy, and I recognise that. The post was for everyone on my newsfeed to really understand how I'm feeling today, all bandwagon-jumping aside. Yet I knew that sharing it with Mum would further brighten a day that had already appeased her flora-lovin', crazy-plant-lady side.
A Chinese immigrant who gave up a comfortable life back home to struggle it out through language barriers, cultural differences and other pitfalls for her children in Western society. Her story isn't unique, nor is the most dramatic of its kind, but it's powerful and important to me because everything she does is for her children, making me the direct recipient of her actions.
Not too long ago, someone on my newsfeed (eugh social media-centric lyf) posted a status update condemning those who scream at their parents on the phone then tell their friends "I hate it when they call," upon hanging up. She wrote about how these people didn't know how lucky they are to have parents who care about them to call and the first step to succeeding in life is to respect your elders.
Unconditional, status-dependent respect does not fly well with me. I respect the people who deserve it - people who put integrity, work and effort into what they do, and when they don't - irregardless of whether they are teachers, parents, or simply old - then there is no reason to show them this kind of respect. I know friends whose parents don't make the slightest effort to know their children's very fundmental needs and desires, which only backfires when my friends build up life-long resentment against them.
Fortunately, in most cases, the respected generally do deserve the respect. In the above circumstances where the respect is due, it's again that much more powerful - receiving it because it's warranted, not because it's required.
My mother's unconditional love alone warrants my respect for her ten times over. When speculating upon which photo to upload, my mind immediately came to the one I ultimately decided on, but it wasn't until I pulled out the photo album that I properly studied Mum's face. Caught in the moment, the deepest care and affection is written all over her face, while protectiveness comes in the form of her slung arm around my waist, securing me gently but surely. Even at that age, I was ready to scramble away into the unknown, but rather than being seen as holding me back from taking this opportunities, Mum's words of caution (which these days have seemed increasingly unnecessary) only prompt me to stop and consider my options and the consequences to make better decisions. I love the authentic and spontaneous, but Mum's practical nature has influenced and guided me to a safer middle ground. She is probably the reason why people see me at two extremes of the spectrum - both a dreamer and hard realist. The photo sums up my lifelong relationship with her.
Yet this train of thought blurs and joins together with an impassioned speech I heard at an economics debate the other night. The impromptu topic was something along the lines of dating someone based on an average of our weighted preferences... as refuted by the speaker, who said that doing so would only lead you to a theoretical partner, not a real one, and living that experience of sacrificial love for your imperfect partner is the experience worth living for.
Side-stepping the heavily religious connotations, this in turn lead me back to the theory of selfish behaviour I've been presenting, believing only half-heartedly and improving constantly. My discussion of this with people usually starts with a question such as: if your partner was moving to another country, would you drop everything and go with them? The impulsive romantics and sacrificial lovers declare that they would do anything for the most important people in their lives. Two things to consider...
- If things don't work out, even if you don't want to, you will subconsciously start blaming your partner. If you act in your own interests and maintain your life and career, and things don't work out, at least full responsibility of your circumstances fall to you. No-one should have the privilege or burden of being ultimately responsible for your life decisions.
- Operate under the assumption that we all want what's best for the ones we love - and oftentimes, this means them acting in their own personal interest. Despite having you with them in the new country may be what they want for their own benefit, could they really ask it of you, loving you as much as they do, if they know that this won't lead to the best outcomes for you? Maybe the best way to serve the ones we love is to do what's best for us.
I am always quick to clarify that this does not legitimise all forms of selfish behaviour on every level. Altruism is a virtue and considerate people are amongst the best kind of people - I just don't think major life decisions should be made without your own interests as the primary consideration...
... which brings me in a nice circle back to the beginning of my post, and the love shown and sacrifices made by my mum every day. She shoots my first aforementioned point right in the foot, because I have never thought for a second that she ever blames anything that could be improved in her life on her daughters. This gives rise to emphasis on the latter point - that I receive the love from which nothing is asked in return, I remember all the low points so far and I wish that Mum would act to make herself happier, even if it goes against our interests. Especially if it goes against our interests. She's brought up two kids who thank her for everything, and have the strength and at least the willingness to acquire the knowledge needed to make it from hereon in. We thank her for bringing us to this stage and now I really, really want her to start looking out for number one.
Love ma mum.
