By Hera Barrameda
Ten years ago, I woke up to the clutter of a failing marriage, an empty bank account and a beaten-up ego. It didn’t turn out as promising as how it started. Blank stares at the wall hit a critical number. I asked myself: “What did I do to deserve this when all I wanted was that one perfect love?” Blame, shame, and guilt all came together to make one elite concoction of a disaster. I considered giving it one more shot realizing that I have a child to fend for, but a little voice in me said:
“What kind of love will I give my daughter if I am not whole myself?”
I awakened to a reality that required me to raise a child singlehandedly while staying alive (in every sense of the word). A substantial part of my life is devoted to paying for the bills, being happier than the previous day and ensuring that my daughter remains healthy and well. Some days I am full of undeniable conviction that I can carry on and emerge a victor. Some days, however, I wondered how things can be so difficult.
Years of societal programming suggests that my daughter will be broken and unhappy because of the absence of a male role model in the form of a father. Determined to defy this man-made theory, I devoted each day of my life to learning how I can best help her build a life she loves. The thought of her happiest self-expression makes me come alive. I ask myself every day how I can help her heal. True enough, where there is a question, God sends an answer. This time, in the form of a conversation with a life coach:
“The best way you can heal your child, Hera, is to heal yourself first.”
When I thought the work involves changing our outside circumstances to heal my daughter, I realized this was an inward journey – one that requires tearing the walls I built and reuniting all parts of me I didn’t know existed. When I thought I needed to read hundreds of parenting and trauma recovery books, I realized I can instead read a letter I wrote for myself. When I needed to forgive others for causing me years of pain, I realized I only need to forgive myself. When I thought I needed to heal my daughter, I realized it’s myself I needed to heal.
Not everyone gets the privilege of this realization.
Here in the Philippines, an annulment is a very expensive path to freedom and is an option available only for the few. It’s easy to assume there are lots of single mothers who have to choose between raising their child alone or getting out of an abusive relationship. An estimated 14 million Filipinos are single parents.
A few years ago, a friend from India sent me a Facebook message saying “What is it like being a single mother in the Philippines?” She saw I was enjoying the freedom of single motherhood but was sure that taking care of a child alone was hard work. Her father died when she was a young girl and her mother had to take the role of the head of the family. She told me it was “very, very hard”, referring to their struggle of finding social acceptance in a greatly patriarchal society. Their mother had to constantly protect them from humiliation and for the most part of their lives, they stayed within the confines of their house for fear of being shamed.
I would like to think part of my purpose is to help single mothers put that smile back on their faces, manifest their best life and build a good relationship with their children. Because really, we are under no obligation to settle for fewer flowers on our desks, fewer hugs in our days, less money in our pockets, or less love in our hearts.
Much can be said about the significance of the mothers. She embraces and holds, she contains and molds, she balances the scales.
The concept of a mother is universal. So is her love.
320 million children all over the world live under the care of a single mother. Imagine how much the world can change when their mothers learn how to love more.
