I’ve never raised my voice at my mother. I’ve never used harsh words or expressed hatred toward her, even during my teenage years. Witnessing friends lash out at their moms left me shocked; I simply couldn’t fathom such disrespect. It wasn’t fear that held me back; my mother was never the type to spank or yell at me. I simply held her in high regard and understood that hurtful words would only cause pain. She didn’t deserve that.
To me, my mother has always been a source of positivity. Even when she said no to parties or grounded me for lying about my whereabouts, I always knew her intentions were rooted in love. I may have felt angry at times, but deep down, I trusted her decisions, believing they were made for my benefit rather than to inflict suffering.
That unwavering trust remains today. Though we may not see eye to eye on everything, I still regard her as an unyielding force for good in my life. As I stand on the brink of my forties, I recognize that I still need my mother. It’s not about feeling incapable or reliant—it’s simply that her steadfast support has become an integral part of my existence.
Her love is irreplaceable. I know that no matter what I do, she’ll always be there for me without judgment. This sense of security is something I cherish, and it’s surprising that, at this point in my life, I still find comfort in that bond. My mother’s encouragement is distinct from the support I receive from friends and family. While they offer valuable advice, nothing compares to the warmth I feel when my mom tells me she enjoyed my writing. Her praise, even if slightly biased, fills me with joy.
On tough days, when life feels overwhelming, a call to my mom can revive memories of childhood hugs, reminding me that reassurance can be transformative. She has a way of reinforcing my strength, a strength I know I inherited from her and her mother. Her words resonate with me, empowering me in ways I never anticipated. It’s pure magic.
When disagreements arise, they pale in comparison to the bond we share. I know she will listen and understand my perspective, even if we don’t reach a consensus. That level of unconditional trust is rare, setting our relationship apart from others.
So yes, as I near my forties, I still find myself needing my mom. And I recognize that this need—both the feeling of it and the fulfillment of it—is a luxury. Many don’t share this experience; countless friends have lost their mothers or found their relationships too toxic. Others grapple with conflict and dysfunction, feeling the same longing but unable to satisfy it.
I’ve observed friends who, despite difficult maternal relationships, manage to cultivate love and support for their own children. They may not have received the affection they deserved, but they embody it for the next generation which is truly awe-inspiring.
I am grateful to still have my mom as a positive influence in my life. Our relationship is a rarity, and I will never take her for granted. If only I could bottle the peace and strength her presence brings and share it with others, for everyone deserves this kind of love.
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Summary
Approaching 40, the author reflects on the enduring bond with her mother, who has always been a source of unconditional love and support. Despite the challenges of adulthood, she acknowledges her need for that connection, understanding that many do not share the same experience. The piece highlights the rarity of such relationships and the importance of maternal support.