A Mother's Day Tribute: 5 Things I Learned from My Mother

Shirin Ariff
1 day ago
5 min read

On Life, Logic, Leadership, Legacy and Lentil Soup

Celebrating Mother's Day with heartfelt appreciation for my mom's love and influence, beautifully expressed through art and words.

There’s a magical superpower many mothers possess—and no, I’m not talking about their uncanny ability to sense trouble from a different city or their unparalleled talent for knowing it all and letting you know with a pointed “I told you so!”

I’m talking about the quiet, relentless, often underappreciated force of wisdom they pass down—wrapped in stern looks, horribly healthy food (less salt, less oil, fewer spices, and only what’s “good for you”), and Sunday morning speeches disguised as “conversations.”

This blog is my love letter to my mother—my first teacher, life strategist, wellness advisor, and motivational speaker, rolled into one powerful woman with an intimidating stare and nerves of steel. Here are five of the most profound lessons I learned from her—lessons that shaped me, saved me, and slapped some sense into me when I most needed it.

1. Discipline is Freedom

I didn’t understand this at first. Actually, I hated it.

As a kid, “discipline” felt like a code word for no fun, no TV, no dessert before vegetables, and definitely no sleeping in past 7:00 a.m. on a Sunday—because, as she put it, “We’re not raising sloths in this house.”

But my mother knew something I didn’t: true freedom doesn’t come from doing whatever you want whenever you want—it comes from doing what needs to be done, even when you don’t feel like it. Because that, my dear reader, is what builds character, momentum, and self-trust.

She taught me that if I set my alarm, made my bed, completed my homework, followed through on my promises, and showed up for myself every single day—even when no one was watching—I wouldn’t just be productive. I’d be free. Free from chaos. Free from self-doubt. Free to chase my dreams because the path would be paved with consistency.

It turns out the secret to having it all… starts with making your bed and cleaning your room.

2. “Go and Get It” – You Can Be Anything

If my mother had a catchphrase, it would be: “You can be anything you want!”

This was her version of a pep talk. Slightly terrifying. Deeply effective.

She was the queen of the no-excuses, no-pity-party, action-oriented school of thought. If I wanted something—a grade, a scholarship, an award, a job—I had to get up, show up, and go get it. She’d say, “You have two hands, one brain, and a heart that works overtime. What more do you need?”

And if I dared say, “But what if I fail?” she'd pop her trademark big eyes and say, “Then you get up and try again. That’s how we do things here.”

She wasn’t raising a princess. She was raising a powerhouse.

3. Self-Care is Not Selfish—It’s Survival

My mother had a rule: if you’re too busy to care for yourself, you’re doing life wrong.

This woman could run a household, raise the three of us, and still find time to drink her yucky “Kalmegh” (#iykyk), do her stretches, get her eyebrows done, and slap on a homemade lentil face mask while yelling at us to stop fighting over the remote.

She taught me that health isn’t a luxury—it’s a responsibility. You cannot pour from an empty cup, no matter how noble your intentions. You are not your best self when you’re burned out, sleep-deprived, hangry, and resentful. You’re a ticking emotional time bomb disguised as a martyr.

Take the nap. Eat the salad. Book the appointment. Say no when your body says stop.

Her philosophy was simple: your health is your wealth, and self-care isn’t bubble baths and spa days—it’s the everyday commitment to honoring your body, mind, and soul.

A relaxing Mother's Day spa day shared between mother and daughter, complete with cucumber eye masks and cozy robes.

4. Resilience: Fall. Cry a Little. Then Get Up and Try Some More

I’ve seen my mother get knocked down by life—losses, betrayals, heartbreaks, health scares, and those small soul-crushing defeats that come with being a woman in a world that often overlooks how heavy she carries everything.

But here’s the thing: she always gets back up.

And not just back up—she gets back up with lipstick on.

She taught me that resilience isn’t about being unbreakable. It’s about being unafraid to break—and then having the guts to piece yourself back together with gold, like Japanese Kintsugi. Each crack a story. Each scar a lesson.

I remember once failing miserably at life and dramatically announcing that I was done with everything—dreams, hopes, ambitions. She listened, didn’t even hand me a tissue, and said, “Okay. Enough. Wipe your own tears. Start again.”

She never let me confuse a setback with a stop sign.

5. Education is Power—Give It, Receive It, Live It

My mother didn’t just believe in education—she worshipped it.

Books were not decor in our home; they were tools, portals, and prized possessions. She took our education seriously. We had to be fluently multilingual, and when exams came around, she sat up with us, burning the midnight oil.

She would often say, “Education is the one thing no one can take from you. Not time, not poverty, not even fate.”

And she meant more than just degrees or diplomas. She meant learning—the kind that opens minds, shifts perspectives, and ignites a fire in your soul. She believed in empowering others with education, too. Whether it was tutoring a niece or neighbor or simply sharing what she knew—she believed that lighting someone else’s candle never dims your own.

She made me believe that learning was liberation. And now, I live by that belief.

The Final Lesson: Legacy Isn’t What You Leave Behind—It’s What You Pass On

My mother didn’t wear a cape, but she planted seeds.

Seeds of discipline, action, wellness, grit, and knowledge. And she nurtured them, every day, in me.

So now, when I show up every day to do what it takes, take care of my health, chase after my goals with fire in my belly, stand back up after being knocked down, or teach someone something new—I see her. I hear her. I become her.

She is the voice in my head (there’s no getting away from that!), the compass in my choices, and the fire in my soul.

To the world, she might be just one woman.But to me, she is the woman—the blueprint, the backbone, the brilliance behind everything I am.

So here’s to you, Ma

For teaching me that freedom comes from discipline. For showing me that I could be anything if I just got up and went for it. For reminding me that my health is my wealth. For lifting me with your unshakable resilience. And for giving me the greatest gift of all—an education in how to live a meaningful, courageous life.