“I’m proud of you”

I was in my late thirties when Mum first told me she was proud of me. It was a strange moment.

Strange, because throughout my life she had been mostly indifferent to me and my successes. I never got a “great job” or a “well done”.

It’s seems even stranger now, writing this all down.

Growing up, I never really expected any kind of encouragement or praise. I simply accepted the situation because it was just the way things were.

She would often brag about me to her friends, as if my successes were hers. She gave herself the annoying apt title of Stage Mother. A title which triggers me to this day.

I will probably never know the experience of raising children, but I’m absolutely certain if I were to, I would—at every turn—let them know how infinitely proud I am of them in everything they do, whether they succeeded or not.

Isn’t that what unconditional love is?

And in a way, Mum’s indifference has served me well. I never foolishly chased her approval.  And I don’t look to others for validation. Every passion I pursue in life comes from an inner fire.

But this also means, that I have myself become completely indifferent to my mother’s opinions. On anything.