I wasn’t going to post this way but I can’t hold back any longer.
I hate mothers day. It causes me so much anxiety and fear mere weeks before the actual “holiday.” I can’t remember very many pleasant Mother’s Days. Unfortunately, all I can remember are devestating ones. So, basically, I try not to remember any at all.
My mom wasn’t around for much of my late childhood and adolescence. She was either travelling for her business or in and out of mental hospitals. She wasn’t consistantly there for me at the pivitol moments of my life. And try as I might to forget all that and sweep it under the rug, try to pretend it doesn’t matter…Mother’s day rears its ugly head and forces me to remember.
I detest picking out a card for mom on Mother’s Day. They all say the same thing: “Thank you mom, from the bottom of my heart, for always being there for me, for supporting me when times were tough, for always believing in me, always caring for me selflessly and loving me unconditionally.” I just can’t fathom ever feeling those sentiments for my mother. I wish I could. Oh, I desperately so wish I felt that way. Sometimes, I even wish all I felt was anger and resentment. But I don’t. Lately, I just feel tired of it all. Tired of fighting with her, tired of trying so hard or not hard enough. There is no right answer to my relationship with my mother. I wish there was a card that said that.
I love my mother. I truly and honestly do. Is that enough?

I remember one Mother’s Day in particular. My mom had cut her parents and brothers out of her life for good, accusing them of grotesque acts done to her in her own childhood. She didn’t speak to them for seven years. Somewhere in that time frame, came the second Sunday in May. My dad, trying to maintain some miniscule sembalence of a “normal” family while my mother lie in her dark bedroom for hours on end doing whoknowswhat, called my mother’s mother for me to wish her a happy Mother’s day. I got on the phone and chatted with Grandmother for a while as a typical pre-teen ought to. I don’t know if dad offered the phone to mom in the midst of her misery or she just magically found out that we had called her mother…but she was livid. She yelled and carried on, accusing us both of not loving her, disrespecting her by calling her mother on “this of all days.” Yadda yadda yadda. Sure, maybe she had her reasons. But it was incredibly confusing and heartwrenching for me at the time.
For a few years there, I turned Mother’s day into your typical “I’ll Be Mom’s Slave for a Day.” I’d take her out to eat, go to church with her, plant flowers with her, and the like. Then one day, about two years ago, it finally hit me that all I was ever doing day in and day out was being her slave. For years all I did was take care of her. So why should Mother’s Day be any different?! I stopped that year. I declined to be her slave. Instead I took her to the art museum and we had a lovely time.
Last year we were in the middle of a silent period as I tried to sort things out on my own in therapy. Mom was in the hospital last Mother’s day recovering from yet another neck surgery. Despite my silent treatment, I took her a bundle of balloons and visited her in the hospital. What I came to realize is simple: I love my mother.
This year, I sent her flowers and a sweet and simple card. And I called her this morning. All we did was fight. She was pissed because I hadn’t talked to her in two months. I tried to be reasonable and sort it out but of course I was brought to tears and had to hang up the phone. I’ll try to talk to her again tomorrow to work it out but really, this is a cycle with us. That’s all we do. Bounce back and forth from each other and fight about it. Whatever. I’m tired of it.

So I’m taking the rest of the day to lick my wounds and relax at home. Tomorrow I will talk to her to work this out (again). And be thankful that the dreaded Mother’s Day is over.

I am soooooo looking forward to having my own children! Then I can press the restart button on Mother’s Day and find a new reason to begin enjoying it!