Resilience Over Rawness - A New Vow

The past three months have been nothing short of a roller coaster ride. My mom had two surgeries, and honestly, if you want to understand the value of life, just spend some time in a hospital. It’s not about your possessions or what you’ve accomplished, it’s a brutal reminder that nothing is more precious than health. In that sterile chaos, you see how other people cherish their lives, often more than you do.

There’s a saying that echoes through the ages ...to truly grasp the essence of life, you need to visit three places:

The Hospital: Here, you learn that health is everything. Each heartbeat, each breath feels like a gift, reminding you that life is fragile.

The Prison: In this place, you see that freedom is a treasure. You start to appreciate the simple joy of being able to choose, to live without restraints.

The Cemetery: And at the cemetery, the harsh reality hits you... life can feel worthless. The ground we walk on today will one day be our final resting place, and facing that truth makes you value every fleeting moment.

Taking care of my mom in the hospital wasn’t easy. My daughter and I struggled through sleepless nights, subsisting on one meal a day, darting around to buy medicines, and managing finances since the insurance didn’t cover everything. I won’t delve into my mom’s behavior before and after the hospital stays, but let’s just say she certainly added some extra spice to the chaos.

At least one good thing happened during this whirlwind. I can’t express how grateful I am to a friend who came to our rescue while I was traveling to the USA for work. She stepped in like a superhero, supporting my mom and daughter during a time when I felt utterly helpless. GRATEFUL forever!!

Work hasn’t been any easier. With too many changes swirling around me, I understand that change is the only constant in the corporate world. But during all of this chaos, I’ve struggled to find the silver lining. Instead of seeing change as an opportunity, it felt like just another burden added to my already full plate. But one silver lining is that I’ve stopped expecting recognition or promotion, if it’s meant to happen, it will, and I’m learning to let go of that stress. Because clearly, my hard work and dedication weren’t enough for the universe to throw me a bone.

Even with the support of my daughter and my friend, I feel like I’m navigating this storm all alone. I’m juggling everything, from fixing maid issues to managing hospital expenses, plumbing problems, team responsibilities, and trying to meet my boss’s expectations. And let's not forget personal expenses, bills, and EMIs.

I refuse to play the “single mother” card and recount every hardship I’ve faced, but after years of this routine, it’s no surprise that the smallest things can set me off. You can’t express your frustration at work, even when you’re drowning in your personal life. It’s a recipe for doubling the tension.

I share all of this because lately, I’ve reacted like a wounded rabid dog, barking at everything. This behavior has led two of my closest friends, who are more family, to talk behind my back, suggesting I see a psychologist. Apparently, my “speaking style” (as they put it, “Tak Tak nu pesura”) is a red flag, along with “harsh words” (they claim I’m using rude language), “adaptability” (or lack thereof), “overthinking” (extreme contemplation), “sensitivity” (as in, I’m too sensitive), “shouting” (yelling, apparently), and “overprotection” (an excessive need to protect).

But my question is: Are they all perfect? Have they walked even a step in my shoes? I’m not comparing my struggles to theirs, but why can’t they extend understanding and compassion to someone who is clearly not ok, instead of whispering about me behind closed doors? Instead of offering support, they judge me for how I’m handling everything as if my pain is just an inconvenience for them.

I was deeply hurt to discover that two of the people I trusted most in my life have nothing better to say about me than to suggest I meet someone who can help with my “mental issues.” I’m not against seeking help, I recognize the value of mental health professionals, but honestly, I don’t think I’m in such a dire state that I need a psychiatrist just yet. Sure, I’ve expressed my need for help during my moments of frustration, but it stings when those closest to me respond with judgment instead of support.

What stings even more is that they chose to delete those conversations. It’s a painful echo of my past, a reminder of how my ex used to wipe away his ugly behavior as if it never happened. These two know my story and yet they only cared about what they whispered behind my back instead of how I would feel if I ever found out. It still hurts so bad!! When I finally confronted them about it, I was left questioning: Am I the villain here because I didn’t trust that they would never speak ill of me? It feels like I'm the one at fault for not trusting them when they claimed they would never speak ill of me. The truth is, I’m just hurt that they felt the need to discuss me at all, good or bad. Why delete conversations? Why hide? If they cared so little for my feelings, why not confront me directly instead of dancing around the issue like I’m some kind of burden?

But honestly, if you’re truly concerned about me, then try to understand me. It’s not about playing the blame game, it's about being real and honest. Instead of treating me like I’m fragile or unapproachable, they could have just talked to me, laid everything on the table, and helped me navigate my feelings. Instead, they chose to erase me from their conversations, which only adds to my sense of isolation, their secrecy only adds to the pain, leaving me questioning their loyalty, love, care, and sincerity.

I know I won’t forget or move past what they did to me, but I refuse to let it define who I am. I won’t be the person who wears her heart on her sleeve anymore, who lays everything bare for the world to see. Being “raw” and honest about my feelings has only led me to pain and judgment, and in this world, it feels like a crime to be so vulnerable. You can’t express what’s truly on your mind without bracing for the backlash.

Honestly, they’ve shown me that they don’t deserve the unfiltered version of me. If they can’t handle the depth of who I am, then they’ll just have to contend with a new me, one that keeps her walls up. I’ll navigate this world with a little more wariness, guarding my heart more closely. I’ve learned that not everyone is worthy of my openness.

Navigating through these feelings is like walking through a dense fog. It’s hard to find my footing when those I love most, including my daughter, who I’ve always hoped would be my ally in understanding, become the very ones who leave me feeling isolated. It’s a painful irony to think that the people I trust most would discuss my struggles in hushed tones instead of coming to me openly. Yet, I choose to see this as an opportunity for personal growth and deepening my relationship with her. In this pain, I see a powerful chance for transformation, not just for myself but for our connection. I want to peel back the layers and truly understand my daughter’s perspective. I want to invite her into a space where we can both be vulnerable, sharing our fears, frustrations, and hopes without judgment.

As I step forward, I know I need to redefine my boundaries with others. I want to foster connections that are rooted in understanding, support, and compassion. It’s time to be more selective about who I share my heart with. I will hold space for those who lift me up, who recognize my struggles, and who don’t shy away from engaging with my emotions.

Life is too short to waste on people who don’t see your value or choose to turn their backs when things get tough.

This is my vow: Here’s to new beginnings, to healing, and to forging connections that reflect the depth of who I truly am.

CHEERS!!