[Text/Ms. Zheng] [Picture from the Internet]
In the eyes of people, I am a strong woman, at the age of 39, the traces of time have not left too many vicissitudes on my face. I have a stable job, a warm family, and a daughter who has just entered her first year of high school. However, at the moment when life seemed like a happy moment, I made an incomprehensible decision to give up on my daughter. This decision was not made out of helplessness, nor because she had made an unforgivable mistake, but out of a mother's deep love.
My daughter, Xiaoya, has always been a sensible and considerate child. Her smile is my greatest consolation, and her achievements are my greatest pride. However, as she entered high school, I began to notice that her smile was getting less and less and her eyes were getting more and more confused. I tried to communicate with her, only to find that she closed herself off and was unwilling to share her troubles with me. My heart hurts, but there is nothing I can do.
One day, I stumbled upon an unsealed letter in her room. Curiosity drove me to open it, and it was a letter she wrote to a friend in which she poured out her confusion and stress. She wrote: "I was afraid that I would not live up to my mother's expectations, and I was afraid that I would let my mother down. "At that moment, my heart was like a knife, and I realized that my expectations of her had become a burden to her, and my love had become a pressure on her.
I decided to let go, I decided to give her the freedom to live her life on her own terms and to find her own happiness. I don't ask her about her studies, I don't ask about her life, I try to give her as much space as possible to make her own decisions. I know how difficult a decision this is for a mother, but I believe it is the best way I can love her.
However, giving up is not an easy thing to do. My heart tightens every time I see her come home late, and my heart struggles when I hear her talk about the pressures of school. I started to have insomnia, I started to get anxious, I started to get depressed. I found that I was giving up not only her future, but also my dignity and responsibility as a mother. I began to doubt my decision, and I began to get lost in endless self-blame and pain.
I decided to seek help and I found a counselor. In the treatment after treatment, I learned how to face my emotions, how to accept my imperfections, and how to redefine motherhood. I've come to understand that giving up doesn't mean losing, but about having better. I learned how to communicate with Xiaoya and how to support her instead of oppressing her.
Time passed, and Xiaoya gradually adapted to her new life. Her smile returned to her face, and her eyes sparkled again. She began to take the initiative to share her life, her dreams, her happiness with me. I know that she has found her own path and that she has learned how to face life's challenges.
And I, too, found myself again in the process. I'm no longer depressed, I'm no longer confused. I understand that as a mother, my responsibility is not only to give life to my child, but also to teach her how to be independent, how to be strong, and how to love. I relinquished control, but earned her trust and respect.
Now, whenever someone asks me if I regret my decision, I firmly answer, "No, I don't regret it." "Because I know that is a mother's deepest love, that is a woman's deepest courage. I gave up, but I never lost, because of love, never left.