I do not like the month of May. Well, that is not entirely true. I enjoy the pleasant weather and the blooming flowers. I enjoy the activities in my son’s school (although they sometimes wear me out). What I dread about May is Mother’s Day.
I hate Mother’s Day. I have tried for years to make it a positive day, but I just cannot seem to do it. I have too many associations with negative experiences to make Mother’s Day a good thing. My mother was my first abuser and the one who provided all of my other abusers access to me. That’s hardly something I want to celebrate. On top of that, I was infertile and desperately trying to become a mother for five Mother’s Days, so I also associate that day with being left out in the cold. There was nothing worse than watching the children sing in church and then have all mothers stand and be recognized. It was just awful to be the only thirty-something woman to remain seated in the sanctuary.
It bugs me that I cannot celebrate this day because I really do deserve it. I am a darn good mother to my son. I marvel at the fact that someone who was as messed up as I was has been able to raise a very well-adjusted, loving, and “normal” child. That deserves some kudos.
On top of that, I have been a good “mother” to myself – to my inner child/children. I never had a sane mother to nurture me, so I have had to nurture myself in adulthood. All of those unmet needs did not just “go away.” They are still there, and I have done a darn good job of nurturing myself. That needs to be honored, too.
So, why can’t I let go of my animosity toward Mother’s Day? Perhaps it ties into what I talked about yesterday. Perhaps I need to give myself the freedom to feel neutral about the day first before I will be ready to make it positive.
At least I should get a nap out of the day.
Related link:
Pain Of Mother’s Day For Adopted Child Who Suffered Abuse
Photo credit: Lynda Bernhardt
Blooming Lotus 