The most beautiful woman in the world

If there was one person who I wanted to be, I would want to be my mother.

My mother is the most beautiful woman in the world. At least in my eyes, She is. She is a true beauty. She, in her youth, rivaled today’s stars. Oh man, am I so lucky to look like her. Though in spite of that me and my mom and I never really got along. Perhaps it was because we were too different, yet ironically, I look most like her. People say that we look like two peas in a pod, like sisters which, of course, I take as a compliment, because she is beautiful. My mother is the most beautiful heart, soul and face that I have seen in my life. It’s just that our ways are just so different – the generation and the thinking we are quite the opposite sides of the pole and we really don’t mix ( at least most of the time). She nags, she’s annoying, she’s very repetitive and totally hurtful in some of the things she says. She’s paranoid and she makes us all paranoid. She also tries to control everything. But, also, she is just being a mother.

There were times that I totally thought I hated her. ( Don’t we all?) I hate the fact that she keeps getting in my business, trying to stop me from having fun and being me. She’s totally a killjoy – that instead of supporting me, she stopped me. She said that what I do, most of the time, is a waste of time. That’s the thing I hated the most about her, is that she wanted to mold me into something I am not.
There was one time, I think it was Second Year High School, when she went into my room and demand that I throw away all the Comic Art that I was doing, I just finished a perfect drawing of Raziel, my latest heroine who was a full breasted, scantily clad raven haired rebel who wears kneehigh combat boots, daisy dukes, a torn tanktop and a red ruby choker brandishing combat knives and a machine gun. She was to me, a beauty – but my mom said it’s pornography and threw out even my Sailormoon drawings saying that It’s the work of the devil. And that I should draw Jesus Christ instead. From then on, I stopped trying to be a comic artist and hid all my art from her. For the longest time, I had rebelled. I wanted to be everything she was NOT. Why? Because, I thought that was who I am supposed to be. I thought that she wasn’t cool – that she was backward and against the times. I thought she was spoiling my fun and that she didn’t understand my needs. I thought that I didn’t need her and ignored and spited her. I grew up thinking that I was a rebel – but in actuality my mother had won.
Even if I said I was a rebel, I wasn’t actually that bad.I didn’t join gangs. I got good grades. I was pretty much home all the time ( though I did resent her for that), I didn’t go to parties. I spent my time reading books, dwelling in fantasy worlds, writing stories that are I once again, not good enough and EVIL ( though they were just fanfiction and mostly just science fiction/ fantasy stories about elves, mutant powers and the like). I didn’t drink too much and even as an adult, I count the times when I really really really REALLY got drunk. I wasn’t promiscuous. I didn’t even do drugs. My rebellion started and ended In looking like a bad girl – but without the attitude nor the evil works. Pretty much, I was and will always be a “good girl”. So she won. I couldn’t be totally opposing to her.

How did she win? I guess it was simple – SHE LOVED ME. UNCONDITIONALLY, IMMEASURABLY and TOTALLY. She was the one person who tried with all her might to love me – this imperfect sinner that I am. Though she was very vocal that she is very disappointed in the person I became, I knew this was her way of saying Ilou, I love you. I didn’t understand that before and would hate her more because of it – but now, I actually do. I got the code. I got it. So even if she scolds me now and says hurtful, painful words, I know it’s her way of saying, I LOVE YOU, DAUGHTER. And that alone, would be enough for me.

Another thing about my mom is that she is so religious. She is so GODLY it’s not funny. But that is her way to make us follow, I listen to her prayers. I try to emulate her- but really, I am not a very religious person. I DO BELIEVE THAT THERE IS A GOD OUT THERE – I just don’t adhere much to tradition and all that. One of my mother’s greatest gift to me was the fact that I learned one basic thing – that prayer ( no matter how simple) works to calm me down.

I learned this most at the worst part of my life. When I was in Chicago, broke and broken, wanting to die, delirious and crazy. Just when I thought I was at the bottom and no one would ever love me – my mom calls. Oh God, I go crazy everytime that happens because I feel her immeasurable love for me, yet because of this, I couldn’t bear to tell her the reality that was happening to me at that time. I wanted her to think that I was OK when I felt like I was at my wit’s end, I was broke and that I was going insane working 70 hours a week, not happy and eating properly and desperately holding on the the last bits of freedom that I had. Was it really freedom? Maybe I was just stubborn and want the skewed vision of individuality that I thought was right.

I could say it was all other things. I could say that my strength comes from myself – but that would be a total lie. You know who my strength is? My mother. She gives me strength. She fuels me each time she scolds me, she challenges me, she makes me want more out of life. And I beat myself up everyday over the fact that the person who I hurt the most is the person who loves me the most – the person who gives me so much strength and love – the person who picked me up and smacks me in the face (because I need that to actually learn) and still supports me in the best ways she knows how.
I remember during my debut, we didn’t have a plan to actually have a party. But since Lolo insisted, we did. Ideally, Yellow was my favorite color but there was no time at all – she slaved over it and for a month or so prepared my party. But I was being a bitch, and didn’t appreciate that. She gave me a party even if I sinned against her – I was such an ingrate. To top it all off, she took a dress that she loved – a purple beaded dress that she bought FOR HER SELF. ( One thing that she really doesn’t do) and made it into my beautiful debut gown.

I saw in her eyes that she wore the dress again. Admired it, and yet she gave it to me to make me beautiful for my party even if I didn’t deserve it. I DID NOT DESERVE THAT LOVE. I felt it then, but I was such a hard headed, rock hearted bitch that did not express how much she loved her own mother. Yet, right now, I am here, fully aware of her love for me and I am grateful from the bottom of my heart that she gave up so much for me. Ma, THANK YOU. I LOVE YOU.

My mother is strong. She laughs at the face of depression, she keeps us all strong. She makes us all feel loved. She has everything ready for us and thinks about us all the time. Her priority is her family and we really underappreciate that. Mom, my mother, Susan Castañeda is the MOST WONDERFUL MOTHER IN THE WORLD.

I remember when the WORST thing happened to my family. It was her, HER STRENGTH that kept us alive. It was her strength that kept us sane, happy and normal. Our family went through so much but because she was there, we didn’t fall apart. She is the true pillar of this family – because of mom, our family is SOLID and TOGETHER. We are strong and united because of her. Mom, if you only knew that you were our light during that Nightmare… Thank you.

There’s a lot of Ifs and onlys, and I should really stop thinking about it and make her start feeling it. If only she knew how much I love her. If only she knew how sorry I am for what I have done. If only she knew how much I wanted us to be chummy and best friend like. But, I am always scared of her- of her poisonous tongue and her eyes that seem to see everything. Maybe the reason I am scared is that I could not be totally open to her. But, that is about to change.

My Mother is the ONE PERSON that though we do not see eye to eye – totally loves me and accepts me and has completely grasped me. And I want her to know everything happening and has happened in my life. I want to change US completely. I know it will be difficult, but I hope – I really hope it works. Because, I cannot have her gone from my life. No matter what, she is still my mother, my strength, my beautiful idol.

I have searched for a long time for someone to be like. I tried many idols from Japanese idols to Audrey Hepburn but, you know what, it is only now that I am 30 that I realize that there is one person who I really want to be like and she is right at home. I want to be like my mother, when I grow up. I want to be my OWN version of MOM.

I want to be like her. I want to be so like her – in every way (except maybe, I want to be thinner than her). I want to emulate her strength, I want to be as prayerful, as family oriented, as accepting, open minded, as God-like and God Fearing and as beautiful in heart mind and soul. I want to have her great and open laugh, her wisdom and her great cooking. I want to be as great as her. I want to be a sister like her who loves unconditionally. I most especially want to be a mother like her. I think, if I become like her, no one would say “You have to go.”to me. No one would throw me away. No one would make me feel like trash.

Ma, allow me to be your apprentice. I have been stupid and stubborn and crazy. I know I’ve said this before, but this is a different confession. This is a confession of my LOVE for you. I may look ungrateful and that I rebel against you. I understand why you could not trust or feel that I deserve less love, but please Ma, I need you and love you. I will NOT hurt you again. ( or at least I will try). I LOVE YOU. I HONESTLY DO.