Mothers: the self-sacrificing and loving person who embodies unconditional acceptance is the ubiquitous image abounding for Mothers Day. It’s the day to recognize that one person in your life who held you close and dear and for whom you owe all your successes to.
As the month of April ends and May begins, the countdown for this artificial holiday begins its ubiquitous appearance.
And for far too many people, Mother’s Day marks the absence of what you never received as a child: all of that nurturing and love from a mother that comes from a mother who loves her child.
It is maddening. Debilitating. There are too many of us adults carrying the scars of bad mothering; reluctant to share the shame that comes from an abusive childhood who loathe this annual occasion of glorifying the mother who just wanted you to go away. There are too many adults who question what it was about them that caused them to be the recipients of emotional and physical abuse coming from the one person, the mother, who did not get the memo that they needed to unconditionally love their child.
For the children of abusive mothers, Mother’s Day is no holiday. As Mother’s Day 2017 approaches, emotional reinforcements need to be at the ready to counter the pastel images of glorifying the mother who attempted to squash your soul. This second Sunday of every May has become the annual emotional slog experienced by myself and millions of others: what do you do when your mother possesses the bullying narcissism of a Donald Trump?
For the past several decades, I sent my mother the required Mother’s Day card with the saccharine sentiment hoping for the best. Now I just want to send her the bill for all of those psychiatric visits.
Now, comes the challenge. The need to replace this second Sunday of every May with a new celebration: the recognition of my survival from that shabby childhood and the celebration that I was not the only one to suffer the whims of an indifferent mother.
And I celebrate that each year, ignoring Mother’s Day will be easier.
Published by Nancy Snyder