It has been 17 days since mom arrived. The feeling is mixed: cherished, joyful, impatient, caged, struggling. When you have forged your own life, a piece of parental visiting will break the balance. When I look at my dear mom, I feel the responsibility to take care of her. When she judge my life style, I want her to back off so badly. I know I shouldn't be so impatient, thinking about how she treated me when i was a child. I don't know how to make a move in my life when my parents are around. I am so used to travel my journey alone. It's impossible to explain your ideas to them, they can't understand. I hate to confront her, but I hate to struggle. Sometimes, I think it's not her problem, it's my own demon. I got paranoid when she judged my hairstyle, even when she tried to touch my face when I went to bed. I am so afraid she will change me. I know she wants the best for me, but what she thinks is best for me, is not what I want. I love my mom, but the struggle of not losing myself is such a big challenge. Well, guess this is just another "camp" I have to survive.
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Mother, you gave me life.
You watched over me,
and delighted in my first smile,
my first word,
my first step.
Your hands washed me,
picked me up when I fell,
combed the snarls out of my hair,
caressed me.
The years passed...
I grew and I rebelled,
I needed to be myself,
I needed to figure out life,
experience pain,
make the step,
and get up on my own.
Please still watch over me,
please trust me,
and be there for me.
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Don't worry, maybe mom won't be that judgmental.
After all, she always wants me to be happy.
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