About one year into my separation, I distinctly remember having an argument with my mom one night. Despite my efforts to remain calm, she said something incredibly hurtful, and I found myself unable to hold back the tears.

I retreated upstairs, sank into my rocking chair and cried my heart out. "Why couldn't my mom be loving and kind like other moms? Why would the person who should understand and love me the most hurt me like that?" I wondered and felt utterly trapped.

There was so much confusion and tension in my home at the time, I didn’t know how to deal with it.

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Fast-forward to today. My mom is watching Chinese TikTok while I am eating lunch. The old me would be annoyed. “Let’s welcome Apple’s friend,” I overheard the video. “Who is Apple’s friend?” I asked. My mom answered, “Banana.” We both laughed hysterically.

Don’t get me wrong, there are still disagreements and occasional arguments between my mom and me, but there is a sense of calm and peace at home.

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So, what has changed?

You see, after my ex left, I stood for my marriage for over two years, hoping for reconciliation. During that time, even though he no longer lived with us and despite all the outrageous hostility from him, my focus remained on him.

Like a black-and-white silent movie, I replayed in my head what went wrong and how I could fix the mess we were in, over and over again.

I was sad, angry, and frustrated—strangely not at him but at the people around me, especially my mom. “If she doesn’t change, I will send her back to China,” was the thought that came up every time I disagreed with my Mom.

Until about two years ago, when I made a conscious decision not to stand for my marriage. I looked at the relationships around me and realized how disconnected I had been.

In that moment of clarity, I realized the true source of my turmoil.

"It wasn't my ex I needed to reconcile with, but myself."

And at the heart of that reconciliation was my relationship with the most important person in my life: my mom.

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What has changed?

My mom. Just kidding. Nothing and no one has changed but me. How?

Acceptance
My mom shows her love through acts of service. She loves my kids and me by cooking, cleaning, and doing everything to lighten my burden, so I can focus on other things. I accept that my mom won’t offer comforting words or a hug when I need it. But just because she doesn’t love the way I wish she could, it shouldn’t diminish her love.

Like a rose, my mom is covered with prickles, sharp and edgy on the outside but soft and loving inside. I accept that. (And let’s be honest, isn’t that a mirror image of myself, too?! 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Forgiveness
Every time my mom and I got into a pickle, I used to go for a walk, listening to an audio on forgiveness. It’s a guided Shamanic practice using drums and visualization. In there, I see a little girl, the fifth child in a blended family, growing up in the 60s in China, when there was not even enough food, feeling hungry for food, attention, and love.

I sat with her, talked with her, and hugged her. I cradled her like a baby and told her she is deeply loved.

Appreciation
I opened the lunch box my mom packed for me at work and marvelled at how much food was in it. Instead of taking a bite, I took out my phone and texted my Mom: “Lunch was delicious. Thank you.”

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Why does it matter?

Two weeks ago, I asked my 9-year-old son to take me out for lunch on Mother's Day. He eagerly agreed, counting his savings with a determined look on his face. "No problem," he declared, "but with two conditions: It can't be over $30, and you'll have to take grandma out for dinner, too."

This is why.

Because accepting, forgiving, and appreciating my mom is accepting, forgiving, and appreciating me.

Because reconciling with my mom is reconciling with me.

Because when we change, everyone around us changes.

Because love transcends.