Mother’s Day is a tough one for me. A day of emotional landmines.
I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse by my father. When I was 16, I disclosed this to my mother through a series of truly unfortunate events (details can be found in Caskets From Costco). We pursued legal action, and nothing happened — meaning, he was not convicted or trialed or jailed or anything like that.
A few months later, through another series of unfortunate events, he showed up at our home. My mother took him back, over my protests. A few weeks after that, he walked away, got a divorce from my mother, and married somebody else. I no longer have a relationship with many family members, including him and my mother. So, yeah. Mother’s Day can be pretty rocky for me.
This particular holiday was a bit easier when my kids were younger and I was with their dad, but honestly, not *much* easier. Now the kids are upper teens/early twenties and moving on in their own lives — as they should — and Empty Nest has settled in.
With Mother’s Day, there’s more grief than celebration. And this might be where you’re at, too.
Honoring an Estranged Mother on Mother’s Day
In the cluster that was 2020, as the pandemic/quarantine had set in — I wrote this in my journal, based on this quote pictured here by Xavier Dagba.
Yesterday was a f*ck*ry of emotion. Even that is a sign of healing, having and expressing emotions, no matter how messy.
First I would not see my abusive father (court order 28 years ago), then my mother, a decade later. I found “Honor thy father and mother” confusing, to say the least. Upsetting, short-sighted, legalistic. Worth questioning.
I honor my mother (and father) today by seeing her wounds as separate from my worth. By having compassion for her humanness without needing excuses. For seeing her in the darkness as well as in the light, as some truths can only be seen in the dark.
Through honoring her, I honor my ancestors. Their pain, their wounds, passed down and down and down to me, to be healed.
I honor myself by acknowledging my own humanness, as a first-wife and a mother. Seeing my mistakes and my successes as the mother I was afraid I would never be — loving, nurturing, honest, authentic, fierce. Also wounded, traumatized, struggling, stuck, and then moving forward.
Last night I watched After Life, and a character said (paraphrasing), “I don’t want to go back and do anything over again, even the mistakes, as they inevitably led to something better.”
I honor my children by being willing to see their experiences and feelings through their eyes, to listen and talk openly, to apologize when needed. To encourage them to feel and grow and LIVE and LOVE and heal. To try my best to teach them what to look for in the darkness.
Yesterday was a f*ck*ry of emotion, yes.
A cleaning out, a preparation, to see the truth in all its wildness.
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Wishing you a peaceful Happy Mother’s Day
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