Day14 - Seeing Myself in Mother, Seeing Mother in Me

My Mother and Me: A Reflection

The soft glow of evening enveloped the living room as Mother sat in her favorite chair. I brought tea from the kitchen and settled beside her.

"How have you been lately, Mom?" I asked. She smiled confidently.

"I'm doing great. There's no way I'll ever get dementia," she declared. A pang stirred within me. Despite being diagnosed with moderate dementia, she stubbornly denies it. I wondered where her certainty came from.

A few days later, she insisted, "I absolutely won't go to the dentist." When I asked why, she simply said, "Because I don't need to," refusing to budge. Yet the following week, she exclaimed with shining eyes, "I'm looking forward to visiting the dentist!" Her shifting words left me perplexed.

That night, I sat quietly in my room, reflecting. It seemed there was a subtle gap between the world Mother lived in and reality. Then it struck me: I, too, suffer from bipolar disorder and often struggle with the disconnect between my perceptions and reality. My tendencies toward overconfidence and stubbornness mirrored hers.

"Perhaps Mother is my mirror," I thought. Warmth spread through my heart as I realized that the discomfort I felt toward her was actually a question directed at myself.

"I shouldn't try to change her; I need to change myself," I concluded.

The next morning, I smiled at her. "Mom, would you like to go for a walk together?"

She looked surprised for a moment, then nodded happily. As we walked side by side, a gentle breeze caressed our cheeks.

"It's such a lovely day," she remarked.

"It truly is," I replied.

The time spent with her is more precious to me than anything else. Through her, I want to reflect on myself and continue to grow. Holding her hand, I felt a strong resolve blossom within me.