Mother’s Day: A Slap In The Face To Remind Us Of What We Never Really Had.
Because I’m A Masochist, Apparently.
This day, among many others, is a bittersweet reminder of what I wish for, but never truly had.
Mother’s day has long been a thorn in my side. How does one find a card to congratulate someone on basically decimating what should have been years of sweet memories of my mother?
How does one find a card saying, “You don’t have a clue what it takes to be a mother, and thanks for my wonderful childhood of chaos and fear?”.
I have yet to find a card which mirrors this sentiment.
Many times while looking for a Mother’s day card, I felt it was more out of duty than anything else. A card of lies or half- truths.Afterwards, I felt nauseated.
Who the hell was I kidding? Not me, for sure.
When I see mothers and daughters who are close and love each other like no tomorrow? I want to turn a blind eye to them and my wistfulness. My deep sadness of not having a mom who put me first.
Let’s just say I’ve never been comfortable with physical affection. I tend to regard it as suspicious. Especially from my mother. I know what moms are supposed to be, but it’s a far cry from what I had; And what my mother had as well. Who knows how far down the line, this dysfunction goes?
What a legacy to pass from one generation to the next, right?
In the present day, I grapple with motherhood. The constant neediness and duty to my own child. I want to be a good mom, but I feel ill-equipped, and often, woefully inadequate.
If I’m completely honest, I find motherhood to be downright exasperating and never-ending at times. Yes, I signed on for it. No need to remind me. I guess I thought it would be different somehow.
Or perhaps I’m constantly reminded of what a child needs, and what I didn’t have growing up. I think this niggling intangible feeling is always near the surface. It can either bring up bubbling resentment and contempt, or deep sadness and regret. Often both, leaving me in a fetal position with curtains drawn, and wanting comfort and to be left alone, simultaneously.
I’m nothing, if not complex and contrary.
Sometimes I want to do what I want without obligation to anyone else. Take care of me. Sounds selfish, doesn’t it? We all know mothers are supposed to be selfless beings, always doing for others, never themselves.
Motherhood may come naturally for some, but I am not one of them. All I can do is keep moving forward, and give to my child what I wish I had. I can also give to myself the care and compassion instead of self-doubt and recrimination cloaked in seething contempt.
The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.
