I am seeing myself in my mother

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In the enclosing atmosphere of my hotel room, I continued to watch television. After a movie on rock and roll, I shut the tube off and opened the window. Looking at the flowing river beside the hotel, memories of the past few years of my life washed over me. I remembered the pre-mature wrinkles under my eyes and how they came to be…. I used to think that my mother took things too seriously. I even considered giving her the book, Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff. But knowing her, I know that the gift would be frowned upon rather than appreciated. She’s still young but the grays already dominate her thinning mane. The massive gray hair outbreak happened after a month of being bed-ridden for lower back pain. However, the back problem was only the surface. Underneath it lie years of anger, bitterness, and oppression that she experienced from the people closest to her—our family. Everything took its toll on my mother. But I still thought she took it all too seriously… As I looked at my face in the mirror back at the hotel, the past three years of my life came to mind. I fell in love. “Fell” is a good word. It’s so descriptive. And that’s the exact description of how I felt. I fell off the pedestal I made for myself. The experience was painful, sometimes downright humiliating, when I realized that I’m not what I’ve made of myself. It was like peeling my outer skin to reveal my true self. It wasn’t a nice experience, and I didn’t take it graciously. Endless tears flowed and shouting sprees were abundant. It was a traumatic re-awakening. But looking in the mirror, everything came together. The pieces are complete. My life has come full circle—I took things too seriously, too. I can’t live apart from my mother. She lives in me for I came from her. However, I have choice, whether to live my life like hers or to tread my own path. I have to deal with and live my own life. As I looked out the window, I took in some of the cool air. My life, my choice…