Mom Celebrations Aren’t All Flowers and Candy
Some moms never show up well
When it comes to celebrating mom we all have mixed reviews. Some of you cherish and adore the woman who raised you. For better or worse, you are who you are, in at least some small part to who she is. When mom falls under the worse category, you may be everything you are in spite of her.
Perhaps mom was loving and nurturing your whole life. You can’t wait to honor her in a unique way for all she’s done for you. I’m so glad you had that beautiful kind of person in your life. Truthfully, I’m a little jealous.
Others wish they had a woman like that in their lives. It would be nice to have a mother figure to talk with about life changes and the crazy things kids do as they grow.
Relationships with mom run the spectrum from lovey-dovey to abandonment and everywhere in between.
The truth is sometimes we live motherless lives. This is true sometimes even while mom is still alive. Maybe she left you early in life when you still needed her. She kicked you out or never showed up in the first place. The dream of a Hallmark holiday where you want to celebrate her never took root in your life. Her loving intentions toward you never showed up, and you’ve got to make sense of how this shakes out as you parent your children.
We all have mommy wounds. Many of our deep hurts involve the core issue of the way she loved you.
- Receiving mom’s approval or acceptance
- Not being as loved as you deserve
- Having to nurture mom when she should have been nurturing you
Muster the Best Bit of Nurturing You Can
I was lucky enough to have a nurturing mother when I was younger. We may have been poor and hungry, but we were loved. And when she didn’t love us, we siblings held each other up with care.
Unfortunately, she could only love one kid at a time. When I was loved, there wasn’t enough room to love my brother too. When she adopted another child, we were both sacrificed for the new addition to the family.
Maybe this is you too. Celebrating mom brings confusion about how life with her could have been so different. Your stomach knots up when you think about lavishing flowers and candy on the woman who hurt you and left you cold and alone. You want to hide and pretend she doesn’t exist. Honor? No, that’s not at all the word you’d use.
Mom passed away earlier this year and I wasn’t allowed to tell her goodbye. Someone I used to adore wouldn’t let me talk to her before she died. As she lie in bed, confirmed to be passing by nursing staff, I was not allowed to speak to her until after my uncle left her bedside.
After he left, I was graced the chance to talk to her gurgling body while the nurse held the phone. Mom’s speaking abilities were already gone. What should have been a private heart-to-heart conversation was denied, not by circumstance, but by a member of my own family. I tempered my words with care because the nurse holding the phone was politely eavesdropping.
To a certain degree, I’m still dealing with not having said a proper goodbye. No one expected her to die this time, and yet, that’s the thing about death; it comes when we least expect it.
A couple of months after she died, I decided to handwrite a letter. I said everything I wanted to tell her before she died. My hand poured out the pain and torment of decades of unresolved feelings and questions.
When my hand stopped moving I was emotionally drained and had five front and back word-filled, tear-stained, ink-smeared, emotion-filled pages staring back at me. I leaned back and re-read all that I had written. Then I slowly and carefully, prettily folded the letter and tied it with a bow before tossing it on top of the raging fire.
As I stoked its energy, I felt a purging of emotions. My eyes watched the pages curl and turn black. Slowly bits of paper turned into ashes, and somehow those ashes invited healing. Maybe somehow the wind will carry the sentiment of my words to mom wherever she is. For the first time, I felt free of her.
As others look to celebrate their mom, I’m still mourning mine, but not in the way you’d think. I mourn the mom I could have had instead of the person I received. I mourn her loss and what should have been. I get to choose what to make of her teachings.
Choose the Lessons You Want to Receive
Moms always teach us things. Sometimes we learn their lessons well, perhaps too well. Sometimes we have to choose to let go. I decided to open my hand and let go of most of what she offered. She’s gone. She can only affect me if I let her. I have a more prominent call to answer — one to my own children. To raise them in love.
We tend to think about moms and their daughters. But, one psychologist thinks sons who have mommy wounds have the same effects.
Psychologist Peg Streep says:
“So, if you are a son of an unloving mother, perhaps the gift you should give next Mother’s Day is one to yourself: Take a deep breath and begin the journey of healing. No matter what the culture says, acknowledging the pain will make you a better, stronger man, lover, husband, friend, and father.”
Whether you are a son or a daughter who lives a motherless life, I invite you to move forward. As others are celebrating and talking about sending mom gifts and taking her out to eat, I want you to remember that you survived.
Wash Yourself in Peace
You owe yourself peace. You don’t have to continue to let her inability to properly love you manifest itself in your life or through you for your children. Today I invite you to breathe in and exhale peace. Let go and continue surviving. Perhaps a time will come when you can frame your thoughts differently. But, for today, walk in tranquility.
To my mom, may you rest in peace.
And may I be at peace too.
Get my book, Make Money on Medium: Build Your Audience & Grow Your Income, because you owe it to yourself, and let’s stay in touch.
