Life Matters

Yesterday marked an anniversary - the day my daughter took a handful of pills in a desperate cry to be seen and heard. Growing up, my family taught me to be a rescuer, rushing in whenever I saw others suffering. It was how I proved my worth, though it never truly worked.

Naomi faced tremendous challenges in her childhood, and at 16, it became overwhelming. As a rescuer, I felt I had failed at my core mission: protecting her from the darkness.

Even now, I catch myself trying to rescue her. But in the past three years, she has confronted her struggles, faced her inner critics, and begun stepping into the world at her own pace, following her own rhythm. She is emerging as a writer, musician, and performer. Her path is uniquely hers - beautiful in its non-linear nature. I watch in awe as she transforms her struggles through her writing and brings deep emotions to her songs. Her art isn't just expression; it's alchemy.

The journey of learning to parent differently has been profound. These past two weeks, our cat Zuko - whom we adopted just days after the pill incident - went missing. I worked frantically to find him, posting flyers, walking neighbourhoods, and searching everywhere to stop the pain. We sat together in deep grief, crying. I was terrified this would spiral her back into darkness. But instead, she sits with the pain and sings; I expect she is writing about it. And she, in the end, is helping me through my suffering. Being a good parent means sitting with the discomfort of not solving everything.

I am learning difficult lessons: how to step back and support her through suffering without trying to fix everything. It isn't easy, but it's what we both need to grow. My definition of "good mother" has transformed from "protector from all pain" to "witness and supporter through life's challenges."

That drive to the hospital, with her crying "Sorry, Mom" over and over, is a surreal memory. The thought of losing her to death was, and still is, incomprehensible - every parent's worst nightmare. But from that darkest moment, we've both emerged changed. Her brave steps forward teach me that healing isn't linear and that growth often comes through embracing, not avoiding, the complex parts of life.

Life matters. It is precious and impermanent. And sometimes, the deepest love we can show is simply staying present through the storm.