Next Delivery Date for Pre-orders: 3 December 2018

She was hooked on drugs and I never admitted her as my mother

Assalamualaikum all, 

Thank you for your continuous support, for being here to read up on what our Sisters have to share on their relationship. It takes them time to write this and we appreciate all of the stories shared. 

Today, we have Sister M sharing on her relationship with her mother who had faced some problems with drug-abuse yet at the end of the day, our mothers will still be our mothers just as you are their daughters.Nothing can take away that bond between the two of you. I thank you so much Sister M, for stepping up and sharing with us a very personal story.  


Salam Marlena,

Thank you for doing this. It gives me an avenue to write about what an amazing mother I have.

Growing up, I resented her with every fibre of my being. I know.. It’s such a strong statement to say. I was raised by my grandmother, aunts and uncles- whom I now address them dearly as mom and dad too.

My mom was hooked on drugs since I could remember. She went in and out of prison. I hated the times when my grandma would drag me along to visit her. The prison to me was a really cold place. The officers never smiled but instead that look at us with pity. I always felt embarrassed and couldn’t wait for the whole visit to be over and done with.

She got her life back on track when I was leaving primary school. Towards my teenage years, I had many arguments with her. Everything I ever said was, “you have never looked after me so you have no rights over me”. I never admitted that she was my mother.

Whenever I had friends over, I ignored her. My friends obviously asked me who she was and whenever that question was raised, I tell them she’s my relative. Things didn’t exactly get better as years went by. I lived my life without her in it. I never went to her for advice. I never told her about my life. I never included her in my plans. I wouldn’t even celebrate her birthday with her or my birthday with her.

But things changed when I had my second child. My husband decided that it was best for us to live with her. It was a mixed feeling. I knew I had to get some help to cope as we suspected that I had post-natal depression. But at the same time, I didn’t really want to go back home. In the end, I reluctantly agreed.

The day came when we finally moved in with her. Since I just delivered, being in her house made me such an angry and negative person. I snapped at every chance I could. I was really mean and I always had the thought that my mom practices favoritism since my sisters were under the same roof as us.

In time, I got used to living together with her at her home. Even though we already have a house, we continued staying with her. She helped look after my daughters when I went back to work after maternity.

It was only then, I realized how amazing she truly is.

Even though she was tired and had so much housework and cooking to do, she helped me look after my girls. Although from time to time she would complain, we all knew that she enjoyed it. She dedicated all her time to make sure we come home to a clean home, cooked food, clean laundry and happy kids. Her selfless love made me see her in a different way. She did all she could for her children and grandchildren. My relationship with her got better over time.

Now, I dread the idea of going back to my own home. We have since moved out, but are still “permanent residents” in her house. I am thankful that Allah place her in my life. Despite her dark past, she is an awesome mother. I can never imagine having someone else as my mother.

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