A Journal of a Broken Personality

I'm learning about Mother.

I'm learning, I'm learning about Mother.

My mother is an extraordinary woman, she is beautiful, kind and strong. She is social able and caring (sometimes too caring). She is a God fearing woman, filled with integrity and love.

A gynecologist by profession, brought up with humble beginnings in the village. My mother watched her parents struggle to put her in school, she would talk about my grandmother visiting house to house to hand wash peoples clothes earning $2 a day to support her family. She worked very hard to get to where she is now. As soon as she started working she did the calculations of how much her parents spent on her and made sure she paid every dollar back.

When Na (Mother in native Fijian)was boarding at an all-girl school, she talked about how the girls would get into mischief and she somehow she was the one who always got caught. That's when the fear of God gripped her. As a teenager she began to look at some Pastor's life and questioned how they lived, at an early age she already began to seek God. My mother is well behaved, no scandalous story or rebellious years, she became an example to her family and indeed made her parents proud.

During my childhood I knew my mother loved me. We did everything together, we would go to the market and for holding the plastics of fruits and vegetable it was tradition to get a treat from the bean cart (these are tiny stalls that sell Indian sweets and other goodies). We would go to her friend's place for dinner's, visit relatives together, she sewed my sisters and I matching dresses. She was the one who gave me the interest in netball and she taught me the rules of the game. Na was so supportive, she would attend my games. She taught me how to bake cook and clean. And because she is a doctor by profession she looked our family so well ensured we had a healthy meal and nursed us when we were sick. I was basically stuck like glue to her.

My relationship with Na has been what I would call a love hate relationship, not from her side but from mine. She is one woman who never gave up on me and loved me even when I knew I didn't deserve to be loved. My perspective of her changed when I became a teenager because I misunderstood her I saw her strictness as being boring, her rules as mean, her disciple as hate. I began to have my own opinions thoughts and ideas. I was exposed to the world at very young age. I became my own boss and because of this I began to clash with my mother.

I would talk back at my mother, slamming of doors. I was very disrespectful towards her. I would run away from home because I didn't like her rules and in order to have my way I would run to my relative's house then my father would call and ask me to return, this was a cycle. If ever I wanted to bend the rules this was my escape. I didn't realize then but this paved the way to self-destruction.

As I began in the work force, I began to change, I felt I was the boss of my own life that I could do anything, at only 18 my head was huge. The pride did not help and eventually I fell many times. Na was so supportive of me, I knew there was an ounce of pride of me being a radio personality because she would talk about me to her friends and their children, asking me to sign autographs and even give my old station t-shirts.

The whole 7 years in the wilderness my mother continued to pray for me she never gave up. this was something I couldn't understand, after all I had put her through. From all my sibling I was the one who gave her the hardest time. Na had adopted a powerful prayer life she continued to have her quiet time at 4 am and would intercede for her family and yes even me her rebellious daughter. There was a time when the whole family was not going to church yet my mother was faithful and still sought God.

I decided to return to school, a plea that my mother had from the moment I began working. By that time I was already at my flat, living an independent life. Even so when I had moved to my own place she had helped me with the furniture, she gave me her old fridge, she even came to help me set my lino flooring in the house. I look back to that day and all I can see is how my mother was there for me even when I was horrible to her. During the same period of my life where I was living by myself  I returned to school. I was working as a sales and marketing agent for a cinema and because my classes were in the evening I had to juggle work from 8am to 4pm and attending night from 5pm to 8pm, this became very exhausting.