For all of my adult life, I have dreaded Mothers Day. I thought of it as a day where people were gushing on about their mothers, how wonderful they were, how lucky they were to have such wonderful people who loved them unconditionally.
And I would compare their experience to mine and come up WAY short. Not everyone's mother is a saint, I would say. Of course nobody would believe that my growing-up years were so awful, especially after they met my mom. But the woman they met was not the woman I knew. They were totally unaware of what happened behind closed doors, and she liked it like that. And that, as Forrest Gump said, is all I have to say about that.
All that aside, soon after the death of my youngest daughter in a car crash, I started to rethink Mothers Day. This time, I started thinking about it from the other side - instead of me gushing on about my mother, I could look at it as my family honoring me AS a mother.
That changed my perspective a bit. Especially when I look at how my relationship with my daughters changed after I got into therapy - hard to believe that was over 10 years ago!! - and I started to understand about personal boundaries.
What I mean by personal boundaries is how everyone has them (including me), how I need to take a step back and not try to control everyone's thoughts, beliefs, and actions, and just let life happen, let people be who they are, and allow them to bear the consequences of their own actions without trying to fix them.
That realization that everyone has boundaries (see my page on "What is Codependency?" on this blog) literally revolutionized my life and my relationships with my husband and my kids! I learned a whole new way of living life, and I would never go back to the way it was. That new lifestyle was a gift; it gave me another four and a half years of good relationship with my youngest before she passed away, and it has allowed me to grow and become a better person and a better mom.
So instead of looking at Mothers Day as a time to honour my own mother (thus living a lie in my own mind - she was my abuser, not what everyone thinks of when they think of the typical concept of motherhood) I started to see the day differently: it became a way to celebrate the mom I am becoming. It became a means to let my children express their gratitude to me, and not robbing them of that experience like I did before.
And instead of spouting all sorts of platitudes about HAVING a mom and feeling resentful of those people who had that gift in their lives, I could literally celebrate BEING a mom, breaking the cycle of abuse, and starting a new, gentle, accepting, and loving legacy. And that shift in focus helped me survive the annual dread-fest in the month of May at the beginning, and actually (as time went on) look forward to the second Sunday of May.
It's been a slow and sometimes painful change at times. As my own mother ages and gets further into her age-related dementia, she has already completely forgotten the things she did and said to make my life a living hell when I was growing up. And - though it surprises me to say it - it's become less and less important to me to have people believe my story, and more and more important to BE the kind of mother that I wish I had, the kind who showed her love in private instead of just in public, who supported me and who believed in me. She was rarely like that with me because she didn't want me to become prideful, but that fact doesn't keep me from choosing to be that loving, caring, accepting person with my loved ones. I can give them what I never was allowed to have: a chance to believe in themselves, to take pride in their accomplishments, and to have their own voice.
I've also been rethinking my reaction to others' desire to honour their mothers on Mothers Day. Before, I would roll my eyes or just want to stay away from folks who do that. I would hide in my house that day, want to pull the covers over my head, and reject any effort made to spoil me on Mothers Day. Honestly. What that did was steal something very important from my children, and make others who had good relationships with THEIR mothers to feel guilty for having something so wonderful.
Now, I'm more inclined to just say "Happy Mothers Day" to them. But not only to them! Now, I say it to women who - because of trauma - don't feel good on that day: women whose mothers were mean to them, women who never could have a child of their own, women who have miscarried, aborted, or lost a child to tragedy, women who never had the opportunity to have grandchildren, and also women whose children (and/or grandchildren) have walked away from everything they tried to teach them. Those are the hearts that hurt and weep on Mothers Day. And those are the people I think deserve to hold their head up and say that yes, I AM A MOM. I am worth something.
And we are.
And I would compare their experience to mine and come up WAY short. Not everyone's mother is a saint, I would say. Of course nobody would believe that my growing-up years were so awful, especially after they met my mom. But the woman they met was not the woman I knew. They were totally unaware of what happened behind closed doors, and she liked it like that. And that, as Forrest Gump said, is all I have to say about that.
All that aside, soon after the death of my youngest daughter in a car crash, I started to rethink Mothers Day. This time, I started thinking about it from the other side - instead of me gushing on about my mother, I could look at it as my family honoring me AS a mother.
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| Image by Liz Noffsinger at www.freedigitalphotos.net |
What I mean by personal boundaries is how everyone has them (including me), how I need to take a step back and not try to control everyone's thoughts, beliefs, and actions, and just let life happen, let people be who they are, and allow them to bear the consequences of their own actions without trying to fix them.
That realization that everyone has boundaries (see my page on "What is Codependency?" on this blog) literally revolutionized my life and my relationships with my husband and my kids! I learned a whole new way of living life, and I would never go back to the way it was. That new lifestyle was a gift; it gave me another four and a half years of good relationship with my youngest before she passed away, and it has allowed me to grow and become a better person and a better mom.
So instead of looking at Mothers Day as a time to honour my own mother (thus living a lie in my own mind - she was my abuser, not what everyone thinks of when they think of the typical concept of motherhood) I started to see the day differently: it became a way to celebrate the mom I am becoming. It became a means to let my children express their gratitude to me, and not robbing them of that experience like I did before.
And instead of spouting all sorts of platitudes about HAVING a mom and feeling resentful of those people who had that gift in their lives, I could literally celebrate BEING a mom, breaking the cycle of abuse, and starting a new, gentle, accepting, and loving legacy. And that shift in focus helped me survive the annual dread-fest in the month of May at the beginning, and actually (as time went on) look forward to the second Sunday of May.
It's been a slow and sometimes painful change at times. As my own mother ages and gets further into her age-related dementia, she has already completely forgotten the things she did and said to make my life a living hell when I was growing up. And - though it surprises me to say it - it's become less and less important to me to have people believe my story, and more and more important to BE the kind of mother that I wish I had, the kind who showed her love in private instead of just in public, who supported me and who believed in me. She was rarely like that with me because she didn't want me to become prideful, but that fact doesn't keep me from choosing to be that loving, caring, accepting person with my loved ones. I can give them what I never was allowed to have: a chance to believe in themselves, to take pride in their accomplishments, and to have their own voice.
I've also been rethinking my reaction to others' desire to honour their mothers on Mothers Day. Before, I would roll my eyes or just want to stay away from folks who do that. I would hide in my house that day, want to pull the covers over my head, and reject any effort made to spoil me on Mothers Day. Honestly. What that did was steal something very important from my children, and make others who had good relationships with THEIR mothers to feel guilty for having something so wonderful.
Now, I'm more inclined to just say "Happy Mothers Day" to them. But not only to them! Now, I say it to women who - because of trauma - don't feel good on that day: women whose mothers were mean to them, women who never could have a child of their own, women who have miscarried, aborted, or lost a child to tragedy, women who never had the opportunity to have grandchildren, and also women whose children (and/or grandchildren) have walked away from everything they tried to teach them. Those are the hearts that hurt and weep on Mothers Day. And those are the people I think deserve to hold their head up and say that yes, I AM A MOM. I am worth something.
And we are.
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