Giving December Author Interview⑦
- Maco Yoshioka
- 14 時間前
- 読了時間: 5分
Letting Go of Other People’s Judgments—and Building a Happy “Now,” Together as a Mother and Daughter
Interview with Kao
Interviewer: Maco Yoshioka
This year, Single Mothers’ Sisterhood celebrates its 5th anniversary. To mark this milestone, we revisited single mothers who have written essays over the past four years and conducted a special interview series—listening closely to their “after stories.”
In the 7th interview of this anniversary series, we feature Kao, who has contributed two essays so far.
In her first essay, she shared the painful reality of facing her daughter’s school refusal, blaming herself—“What did I do wrong?”—and living in what felt like a state of darkness.
In her second essay, she wrote about the decision for the two of them to relocate, and how running helped her draw an “essential line” between herself and her daughter—one that allowed them to respect each other’s paths.
In this interview, Kao talks in depth about a shocking experience: confronting her daughter’s self-harm. She reflects on how that moment changed everything—and how, step by step, she came to accept “my daughter as she is, and myself as I am.”
After overcoming a period when their relationship was so strained that she wasn’t even allowed into her daughter’s room, the two of them are now back in Tokyo—sharing a small home, laughing together in everyday life. They enjoy morning Radio Calisthenics and running together, and you can see a warm, lively mother-daughter bond.
Kao’s words—“I’ve kept moving forward, even while swaying”—will surely bring a small but real sense of hope to many single mothers who are still in the middle of a struggle.
Kao’s essays
When you re-read the essays you wrote in the past, what feelings come up?
The title of Maco’s audio program—“Keep Moving Swaying Be Authentic”—came to mind. I even talked with my daughter about it: “We really have been swaying, but still moving forward.”
Sometimes I went forward, sometimes I went backward. I was definitely swaying. But when I look back now, I feel it clearly: even while swaying, I kept moving forward.
Looking back, is there anything that feels “so like who you were back then,” or anything that feels “different from who you are now”?
Back then, I was blaming my daughter for not going to school. I was trapped by a single idea of “how things should be.”
Strangely enough, I’m not like that at all anymore. And the turning point was a shocking incident.
At the end of summer vacation, I asked, “Did you do your homework?” She hadn’t. In that moment, I strongly blamed her and said something like, “Even if you can’t go to school, you can study—so do it!”
After that, I found out my daughter had been harming herself.
I was in shock. I realized that even things I thought she “should be able to do” were actually incredibly painful for her—so painful that if things went wrong even a little, I wondered if she might die. That realization terrified me.
We went through medical tests at a pediatric clinic, and we also saw a psychiatrist. And little by little, I got to the point where I could accept:“My way wasn’t working. “This child is who she is. “I need to create a place where she can feel safe.”It has taken me a long time to get here—but I’m finally here.
From the time you wrote the essays until now, what has been the biggest change in you?
My relationship with my daughter.
I cared so much about society’s judgment. I believed that being good at studying and getting into a high-ranking school was absolutely the best thing.
I kept blaming her—and blaming myself too—thinking, “Everyone else can go to school, so why can’t you?”
And as a result, that thinking connected to my daughter’s self-harm.
That incident forced my beliefs to change.
I realized the happiness of being able to be with my daughter right now. I decided to accept her as she is. And through that, I gradually became able to accept myself as I am, too.
On Awaji Island—where we had moved—she even had her own private bedroom. When our relationship was bad, she wouldn’t let me into her room. We didn’t talk much, and there were very few smiles.
But now, we’ve come back from Awaji Island to Tokyo, and in our small Tokyo apartment, we’re together—laughing, bumping into each other, being close in everyday life.
Recently, we’ve been joining the neighborhood Radio Calisthenics every morning together—starting at 6:30 a.m. She’s probably the youngest participant there, as a ninth grader.
I restarted running last year, so we even run to the calisthenics spot and back together! We also entered a running event along the Sumida River as a mother-daughter pair.
If you could send a message to the version of yourself who was writing those essays, what would you say?
Thank you for expressing it. These essays are treasures between my daughter and me.
Back then, I was desperately trying to survive each day—always doing my best just to get through “today.” So if I didn’t write things down, I couldn’t look back.
Writing helped me realize: if I leave something in words, I can revisit it later.
And my daughter sometimes re-reads my essays too—she values them.
Over the next three years, what do you want to prioritize? Do you have any dreams or goals you want to make happen?
Honestly, I just want to do what I want to do.
My daughter will become a high school student next April, and compulsory education will be over. And I’ll turn 50 next year—I can feel the reality of getting older.
Up until now, my life as a single mother has been survival mode for the sake of living, with a lot of endurance and “just pushing through.” But when I think about the rest of my life, I feel: I don’t have time to keep doing things I don’t want to do.
While I still have the physical energy, I want to do what I want—with my daughter. And for my career too, I want to work on things I truly like, not just for survival.
I’ve worked hard and saved money, too—so for a while, I want to try things without letting money control every decision. For example:
Traveling abroad with my daughter, or studying overseas
Entering a marathon race with my daughter (this will actually happen early next year)
Wearing a kimono in Asakusa with my daughter and volunteering as a guide for international visitors
For my career, too—I want to try things I’ve been curious about, without being trapped by fixed ideas. Like working part-time at McDonald’s, studying programming… If I’m interested, I want to just try.
Tell us one favorite phrase from your essays.
“The look on my daughter’s face—covered in tears, sweat, and dust—somehow makes me feel like she’s still looking forward.”
—from Life Is Hard and Simple (May 2023)
Lastly, do you have a message for readers who read this interview?
People may see single mothers as “pitiful.” I’ve faced biased attitudes before. But I’m standing here now—on my own feet.
The painful, life-or-death exchanges I went through with my daughter have led to a big happiness in my life today. After so many deep experiences, I can now stand here with her and breathe and relax.
I chose the path of being a single mother because I valued myself and my daughter. No matter how hard it got, I never let go of the reins of my life.
And that’s why now I can honestly say: My life isn’t bad. Not at all.
Call for Donations
Thank you for reading this interview to the end. The nonprofit organization Single Mothers Sisterhood supports the mental and physical health and empowerment of single mothers. Your generous donations will be carefully used to fund the operation of 'Self-Care Workshops for Single Mothers'. Donations are accepted via the Donate button below.
\ selfcare class for singlemoms /
コメント