Lessons from my mother

It took me a while to realise it; my mother truly is a superwoman. We had our phases of friction, like any teenager would with their parent. But eventually I learnt to take a step back and realise that, even though no one can always be perfect, she took a leap anyone would be scared to take, and landed steadily on her feet. She survived, and showed me that you can get through anything.

I was just couple of months shy from turning thirteen when we ran away from my father. The year leading up to that moment had been hell; my father had always had his problems, but he had become more abusive and his mood swings more unpredictable. The rest of us — my brother and mother and I — were scared. “Was he violent?” No, he never hit anyone, but… my answer makes me uncomfortably conscious that it was never “just” the fear and it was too much.

In my tween insecurity I had become a ghost of what I had once been — at least inside my head. I lived in a fog, distanced myself from others in my new school, couldn’t remember what had happened the day before.

A couple of days before my summer break started, my mum texted me that dad wouldn’t let her take the car to pick me up from school. The feeling of danger had been escalating rapidly. She called a women’s shelter crying, hiding in the toilet, but they would not take pets in, and she was scared of what would happen to our dog if we left it behind. During that one day, she made a plan to get me, my brother, our dog and herself out of the house safely without my father suspecting anything.

We had guests over that night, so my dad needed to act like an honourable host in front of his relatives. The atmosphere was electric, unspoken threats hanging in the air. We knew he was angry; angrier than ever. When the guests were departing, we left with an excuse and stayed at our neighbour’s house. Mum told my father that we weren’t coming back. He was furious, and the divorce was as messy as you could imagine; there were police involved and legal actions, but we made it through, as a family — now without a father, but stronger than ever.

My mother had been a stay-at-home mum for sixteen years. She did not have a university degree — heck, she hadn’t even started high school. Back in the day, it was enough to be hardworking, but not as an almost fifty-year-old lady, back on the job market after a long break.

She needed to study; and quickly, she started studying to become a practical nurse. She continued her studies at university, and became a mental health nurse, graduating early with great marks. Financially things were very tight, studying with two children at home, and now she battles with a nurse’s unfairly low wages. But she managed through the hardest years, and now she is studying to become a therapist while working, aiming towards her long-time career dream.

My mum has taught me that you need to be persistent. On the other hand, she never denied the role that luck plays in our lives. However, your own attitude can attract luck; if you trust in your own luck and believe that things can get better, you find opportunities more easily. If you fail, it might have not been your fault, but you just have to try again — maybe taking another route towards your goal.

She taught me that I do not need anyone to create my happiness. That my road will be mine, and no one else has a say in it; and she will be by my side and support me, whatever my future will bring.

Realising that anything can be overcome has given me the power I could have never believed to possess when I was sleepwalking through my life as a twelve-year-old girl. That power enables me to do things that I earlier thought I could only dream of (living abroad, being happy in a healthy relationship, performing, being loved, taking charge and using authority, achieving goals), but it has its own reverse side. With great power comes great responsibility… And that means the responsibility to take care of myself; to be able to use my power not only to thrive, persevere and achieve, but to stop, take a breath and be content.

Realising that you cannot go forward without a break has been a lesson I have had to learn all by myself. Growing up and looking at my mother, I saw a strong woman who did show worry, but always magically survived. Taking a look back now, I see a different picture; I realise that she did not get through by herself either, but with little bit of help from others too. If she learned to use help when needed, I will as well.

Because I too am a superwoman.

Mimosa Jaskari is a London based film student and maker, hobby photographer and bilingual poet. She loves cats, drinks a lot of coffee and is on a journey of accepting her depression and anxiety. When she grows up, she wants to be a unicorn.