I was born into a middle class family where my parents and grandparents worked tirelessly just to put food on the table. Growing up, I never felt loved or nurtured by my mother. Instead, I experienced strictness, rudeness, emotional and physical abuse, and constant control. She would beat me over the smallest things. I was terrified of her. Not once did I feel the warmth, safety, or affection that a mother is supposed to provide.
Looking back now, I can understand that her own childhood might have been painful. Maybe she did not know what love looks like. But understanding still does not erase the pain I lived through.
When I was in the 3rd grade, I was sent to a hostel for two years, and there I discovered a different world. I became productive, independent, and genuinely happy. I participated in school activities, learned to care for myself, and tasted freedom for the first time. I thought this was normal. I believed that my experiences at home were what every child went through.
After two years, my father came to take me back home to Gujarat. I remember feeling excited. I told myself, This is my family. My home. I will finally feel loved and safe. But the reality was nothing like I imagined.
My father was an alcoholic. Every night he came home drunk, screaming, breaking things, and filling the house with fear. Sleep became a luxury. Peace did not exist. My mother continued to be controlling and cruel. She beat me, abused me emotionally, and never allowed me to do anything I loved. At only 12 years old, I was drowning in depression, loneliness, and terror. I grew up believing that I was never enough. I thought I must be the problem.
Over the years, my mental and physical health collapsed. I developed severe anxiety, panic attacks, and an eating disorder. My body stopped growing, and I could not eat properly or gain weight. Even today, I still struggle with anorexia.
But after finishing my studies, something began to shift. I started receiving spiritual guidance. I always believed in God, but I never understood the power of faith, self-love, or gratitude until then. A friend introduced me to self help books, motivational videos, and the concept of the universe supporting us. I began reading and learning about healing, emotional growth, and inner strength.
That became the turning point in my life.
I started practicing self care. I prayed. I spoke to God every day. I slowly realized that what I had experienced as a child was not normal. The abuse, the neglect, the constant fear, the emotional damage. It was not okay. There were moments when I wanted to give up completely. Times when I felt like ending everything. But every time, something greater than me lifted me back up. A divine power held me together when I could not hold myself.
Through books, videos, reflection, and gratitude, I learned the most important truth of my life. This is my body, my soul, and my life. I have the right to decide how I am treated. I will never allow anyone to mistreat me again.
I began giving myself what I never received. I started mothering myself.
I realized that the love I craved, the nurturing I needed, the protection I longed for could come from within me. I offered myself compassion, patience, and gentleness. I encouraged myself like a mother would. I comforted my pain and celebrated my strength.
This journey was not easy. It was painful and messy. There were many nights filled with tears and loneliness. But I kept going. I learned to stand for myself and to stop seeking validation from people who could never give it.
To anyone who relates to my story, please know this. You are your own universe. You have the power to create your own love, your own peace, and your own healing. Do not wait for anyone else to save you. Save yourself. Treat yourself like someone you love. Be your own family. Be your own mother.
No matter how broken your past may be, you have the strength to rewrite your story. You have the strength to heal.
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