Once again all my writing is taking place on the miniature touchscreen on my phone, due to the technological dysfunctions that seem to have become the rule, rather than the exception in my life. Moving on.
Last night, LaLa gave me this card and I couldn’t NOT cry as I read it.
Mother’s Day is one of the many holidays I’ve felt disconnected and disassociated from for most of my life.
I don’t have any tangible memories of my own mother. If I think really hard I have a couple of memories of memories, if that makes any sense. Overall, though, that place where a sense of “mom” or attachment to someone who loved me in that way should be, is empty, blank, formless and void.
I’ve always kind of known it was true and not “normal” by the standards of the rest of the world. But it has been my normal for as long as I can remember. I accepted it about myself a long time ago. What else could I do?
Mother’s Day always seems to highlight my lack of attachment to a maternal figure. It also brings into consciousness the struggles I’ve had with being the mother my oldest kids could have an attachment to.
Just like celebrating my birthday hasn’t ever truly been something significant or meaningful for me, neither has celebrating Mother’s Day been something I anticipated or felt was something that was relevant for me.
This is the time of year when the faces of Facebook become the faces of moms who have passed or smiling images of loving and happy mothers embracing their children. It’s a painful time for those who grieve the loss of their mom’s. It’s a joyful and happy time for those who celebrate and are celebrated within the interconnected generations of mothers, daughter’s, grandmother’s, sisters, aunts, and granddaughters.
For those of us who grew up disconnected from these relationships and roles, this can be a time of profound insignificance – a time when it feels more than ever that we are on the outside looking in.
If I’m less excited and responsive to your cheerful, “Happy Mother’s Day,” greeting, than you might prefer or expect, it isn’t because I’m churlish or grumpy, it’s because I’m struggling to work through all of these things.
I have struggled with believing I’m a good enough mom to deserve the honor of being celebrated. I’m finally on the verge of accepting the truth and reality that my mistakes and the damage I’ve done as a mom do not disqualify me from being celebrated and honored alongside all the other moms.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be truly comfortable and engaged with this holiday. What I do know is that it is feeling more and more like I am connected and included among those being honored this day and less like a pretender and one unworthy of anything more than scraps.
For today, I will wipe away the tears of grieving what never was and cherish the snuggle time with Luna, appreciating the gift of love LaLa gave me last night, and trusting in the knowledge that the relationship with Marco is growing.
I am a mother and this day is mine to celebrate.