Mother's Day Isn't Happy For Everyone
Today is Mothers Day, and for a lot of people, it is not a happy day, but one that is very painful. I am making this post that is vulnerable and putting myself out there, because I want you all to know you are not alone if you are going through something similar.
Everywhere you look, people are posting flowers, gifts, long paragraphs about how much they love their mom, and how she is their best friend. And if you have that, I am so happy for you, everyone deserves a loving mother.
But some of us did not get that. And I just wanted to share this, so that you know to be gentle on those who do not have a loving relationship with their moms.
Some of us, we grew up with mothers who were toxic, emotionally unavalable, manipulative, neglectful, controlling, abusive, unsafe, or so many other things.
Some of us grew up feeling scared and alone rather than loved.
Some of us spent our childhood walking on egg shells, trying to predict moods, trying to keep the peace, trying to be a "good enough" child.
Just because we got food, clothes, and a house, does not mean that we got emotional (or physical) safety. And that is something a lot of people don't understand. Having a bad relationship with your mom messes with you in many ways, Including
self worth,
anxiety,
your ability to trust people,
relationships,
boundaries,
identity,
the way you talk to yourself,
your mental health,
and literally everything.
Your mother is supposed to be one of the first people who teaches you what love feels like, so when she is your first bully, it changes you. And then when Mother's Day comes around, everyone expects you to celebrate someone who hurt you.
It can be confusing too.
because maybe you love your mom, but are still hurt by her.
Maybe you miss her, but don't feel safe around her.
maybe you feel guilty for being angry, or angry about being guilty.
For me, the hardest part is hoping I will wake up one day and have the mother I needed. The hardest part of Mother's Day, is grieving a person who is still alive. And for some people, that grief is because they made the decision to go no contact. And that is not an easy decision. People act like cutting off a parent happens over one argument or one bad day. But what they don't see is the years of hurt, disappointment, fear, and trying over and over to fix the thing that is breaking you.
Sometimes distance is the only way a person can finally breathe. And even if it was the right (and healthy!) decision, it can still hurt deeply. You can miss someone while knowing they are not good for you. You can love someone and still need distance from them. Choosing peace does not make you cruel, protecting yourself from them does not make you selfish.
Days like today can feel so isolating, so I am making this post to let you know that you are not alone.
And if you are one of those people,
where mothers day is hard for you, here are a few reminders:
-You do not need to celebrate someone who hurt you.
-It is okay to have mixed feelings
-You are allowed to have big emotions
-Take care of yourself, make sure to eat something, drink water, and try to stay off of social media if it is triggering.
To anyone reading this who feels alone,
Please know you are not the only one struggling on Mother's Day.
There are so many people posting smiling pictures with their mother while in private they are falling apart. You do not need to compare your life with what you see on social media. Remember, IT. IS. A. LIE!
@insightfulEyes3026 Thank you make this post. I want every one know they loved very much! You make very nice post. So nice of you!
@insightfulEyes3026
@insightfulEyes3026
Very true. My mother was a narcissistic, abusive woman who would torture me psychologically, physically, and emotionally. I left the house at 16 and never looked back. Unfortunately, I have found nothing but abusive relationships since then.
How many apologies
must be laid at the feet of the past
before they stop echoing
through every room?
I have carried regret
like loose change in my pocket,
heavy enough to notice,
small enough that no one else sees it.
I never wanted
to become the hands that raised me,
sharp with exhaustion,
cold with survival.
So I tried to break the inheritance.
I learned softness
where none was given.
Learned kindness
like a second language.
Offered pieces of myself
to anyone who needed warmth.
Still, I stand outside
the glass of other people’s lives
watching laughter flicker
through their windows.
Twenty minutes away
might as well be another country.
There is always a reason.
The dog is too large.
The drive is too long.
The timing is bad.
Excuses stack quietly
like unopened mail.
And somewhere along the way,
I began to wonder
if absence is simply
the gentlest form of rejection.
I am afraid to speak plainly
about loneliness.
People turn vulnerability
into theater.
Into gossip.
Into proof that you are difficult to love.
But once,
when the children were small,
I was still magic to them.
Back then,
their hands reached for mine
without hesitation.
Back then,
love arrived easily.
Everything changed
the moment I chose myself.
The moment I stopped surviving
and asked for something more.
I was told
without words
that wanting happiness
was selfish.
That leaving exhaustion
was betrayal.
So now holidays arrive
like uninvited witnesses.
Phones stay silent.
Messages go unanswered.
And heartbreak settles softly,
like dust across furniture
no one touches anymore.
Still,
I tried.
God, I tried.
I carried entire households
on my back
while calling it marriage,
calling it motherhood,
calling it duty.
I cooked.
Cleaned.
Worked.
Remembered every appointment,
every bill,
every need but my own.
I disappeared so completely
into taking care of everyone else
that I forgot
what it felt like
to be held gently.
No one called me beautiful.
No one reached for my hand
just because they wanted to.
I was useful.
That is not the same thing
as loved.
And beneath it all
lived the old ghosts of childhood,
where love was measured
by labor,
where worth was earned
through exhaustion.
So yes,
I wanted more.
Not riches.
Not perfection.
Just this:
To be chosen.
To be missed.
To be called first.
To be welcomed warmly
instead of tolerated quietly.
To have someone look at me
and say,
You mattered here.
You still do.
@JerseyGirl55305
So we'll formulated and beautifully written 🩷
You are a good person 🩷
@JerseyGirl55305
I am so sorry to hear about your mother, that is so unfair, especially as you were a child, who was deserving of someone who loved and cared about you. I am 16, and I too left my house. Though I do look back, I have chosen to go no contact with my mother. Even though I miss it, I am able to sleep at night and put my needs first. And I get where you are coming from about relationships, often we look for love in the way it was shown to us as children, both in the ways our parents treat us and eachother. It is crazy to me how childhood affects us so greatly for the rest of our lives. Also, I also love to write poetry, and I love your poem. It is so deep, and I love it! I'm not sure if there are hidden meanings, or if I am just interpreting it that way, but that is one of the things that is my favourite about poetry, that it is different for each person who reads it. Even my own poems mean slightly different each time I read them. So thank you for sharing that! :)
@InsightfulEyea3026 Thank you for sharing and I’m sorry that your relationship with your mother was horrible.
@InsightfulEyea3026 Thank you for sharing and I’m sorry that your relationship with your mother was horrible.