Roses, for Mom, are a medium to express her affection. Only with her nurturing hands, roses in our yard can bloom beautifully.

Over the past nine years, Mom has lived her life diagnosed with depression. This condition brought profound changes, not only within herself, but also in our dynamics as mother and daughter. Emotional outbursts, noises inside her head, and my rejection of Mom’s condition have further strained our relationship.

I blame this condition, which makes it difficult for me to understand the mother-child relationship that my friends have. Unsurprisingly, Mom’s condition also affected me. Two years ago, I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. A 2008 study titled ‘The Children of Mentally Ill Parents’ explains the complex situation I’m experiencing.

Why is Mom like this? Am I a burden?

My head is filled with unanswered questions. Is it because of her condition that Mom can’t express her love for me? But the roses in the yard bloom beautifully, thanks to her affection. Can I also grow as beautifully as them?

Maybe Mom doesn’t talk to me often, but I’m sure her gentle hands hold good hopes for me every night. Like the roses in her yard, I, too, am nurtured by Mom’s love and attention.

The Older I get, the more that I see

My Parents aren’t heroes, they’re just like me

And loving is hard, it don’t always work

“Older” by Sasha Sloan, a song that always accompanies me