I met my younger self today... she scoffed, I smiled.
Growth is a quiet victory.
When we're young, we see the world through the lens of defiance and urgency. We believe we know best, that the rules set before us are shackles, and that our mothers' warnings are nothing more than attempts to control us. We resist their wisdom, mistaking love for restriction, mistaking guidance for unnecessary caution.I met my younger self today... she scoffed, I smiled.
Growth is a quiet victory.
When we're young, we see the world through the lens of defiance and urgency. We believe we know best, that the rules set before us are shackles, and that our mothers' warnings are nothing more than attempts to control us. We resist their wisdom, mistaking love for restriction, mistaking guidance for unnecessary caution.
I used to wear my rebellion like an unblended eyeshadow-loud, untamed, and sworn to resentment.
My mother would tell me, *"A lady's grace is in her ease," but I refused to understand. To me, softness looked like weakness, patience felt like limitation, and her advice seemed outdated. I wanted to grow up fast, to make my own choices, to prove that I had it all figured out.
But now, I realize... she was never trying to break my spirit. She was trying to protect it. She had already seen the storms I was blindly walking into. She wasn't trying to dim my light -she was trying to keep it from burning out too soon.
The truth is, maturity often brings us back to the very lessons we once rejected. We learn, sometimes the hard way, that our mothers weren't harsh-they were just women who had lived through their own battles, hoping we wouldn't have to fight the same ones.
So, to the girl I once was: I understand now. And to my mother: You were right. You were always right.
“Do you think we all thought they were only trying to restrict us?”
Thank for reading and listening
Kabirat
“A hesitant writer that hit send Anyways”
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