My Mother, My Inspirational Person
Let’s say that there were some quantitative means of objectively calculating which mother out of all the mothers in the world was the best one. After some strenuous number crunching, the result might astound you. The answer (if you couldn’t see where this was going) would be my mother. Obviously, a lot of people would disagree and claim their own mother as the best mother in the world, but, perhaps, in the next five minutes, I can convince you why my utterly objective opinion is unquestionably credible.
Now, I’ll be completely upfront and admit my relationship with my mum hasn’t always been perfect. We’ve had our fair share of arguments, and sometimes the fall outs between us have gotten way out of hand. Despite this, over time and through having space, both of us were mature enough to put that behind us. Since then, our relationship has flourished, and, now, I can proudly say that my mum is undoubtedly one of my best friends. We share everything. If there is something that happens in my life, she is one of the first people to hear about it. If I need advice, she’s there to give the support I need. If I need a shoulder to cry on, she’s only a bus ride away. You may think these don’t seem like very high expectations for you to have of your mother but now I’ll explain why I feel she is exceptional.
Before I get into any details, it’s vital that you to know a little history of the wonderful women that is my mum. At age 29, she gave up her career to raise me single-handedly. Throughout my early life, she did her very best to ensure that my childhood was as enjoyable and fulfilling as possible while keeping me oblivious to the fact that we did not have much money. While raising me, she worked extremely hard to get her qualifications and then went on to lecture and teach all ages. All this time, I was unaware of all that was going on, as she never let her stress or work get in the way of our relationship. I was by no means an easy child to raise, and from what I recall, it seems I tried to make her life as difficult as possible with constant tantrums and hissy fits. Regardless of the stresses in her life, she always looked out for my best interests. Jump forward a couple years, it was just a month before my 12th birthday when along came my little brother. Now, the woman that was juggling a career and a child had to add a baby into the equation. I can’t speak for my mum on this, but I don’t imagine that was an easy task by any means. At this time in my life, all the signs that I wasn’t straight were unavoidable. Aware that growing up gay in a smaller town may not be an easy feat, she decided that Aberdeen would be the best place to spend my teenage years. When we moved, I was so caught up on the fact that I had to make friends all over again that I never, until recently, considered that she, too, had to give up all her friendships and leave the place that she loved so dearly.
Throughout my teenage years, I continuously challenged her with little rebellions, which caused us to argue and fall out. Many of my revolts were due to the inner conflict I had with being gay. I was convinced I was broken and that I was a disgusting flaw in humanity because no one else around me displayed any sign of being gay. It was never talked about in school beyond the insults being thrown around, and I think my mum avoided the conversation out of fear of scaring me away. When I finally accepted that the gay would not go away, I began to feel more comfortable within myself until one day I was outed by someone I thought I could confide in. The fear I had that she would find out from someone else was so terrifying that I sat down with my mum to tell her before she found out from other people.
Some of you can imagine the numbness you feel in the moment before confessing such a profound truth to someone. Part of me expected a negative response because she had put in so much effort into raising me that I was worried that she would feel that it was all for nothing. In reality, the truth only made us closer. Sure it was a slow process of feeling comfortable around her, but all these feelings of self-hatred were gradually eradicated because her love was unconditional and she never made me feel like a lesser person for my sexuality. When I came out she never told me that I had ruined her dream of having grandkids or that I had ruined any part of the expectations she had for me, and, since, she’s even put up with me crying over boys. It is true that good parent would love their child regardless of their sexuality, but nonetheless, I am so grateful she was so accommodating.
Then there are the smaller things that make me know she’s the best mother in the world. She always encouraged me to do my best in school but was never disappointed if I got a bad grade. She wanted me to be successful in whatever field I went into after school, but was not disappointed when I failed to get into university for the first time. She has never been a fan of piercings but never told me that I was making a bad mistake. She may not fully understand my anxiety, but she is always willing to put in the effort in an attempt to understand my needs. My mother raised me in a way that did not make failure the be all and end all. Instead, I was raised to feel that failure and mistakes are just another way of learning, and for that, I am so grateful.
My mother’s story is a story of great sacrifice and unconditional love. I am the luckiest son in the world to have a mother that will love me regardless of the mistakes I make. She has made so many sacrifices to make my life the best it could be, and that is why I know my mother is the best mother in the world; no one can change my mind.