When I was a little girl, at church my mother was often sick on Mother's day. They would give me the flowers intended for my mother to take home to her. I knew that mother rejected things from me so I would leave it on the table not expecting her to accept this token. As I grew older and it became clearer to me that my mother hated me...but no one would believe me. After all every day in front of others she should would say, "Did I tell you today how much I love you?" But her behavior didn't match her words. I grew up confused and distrustful. Every Mother's day was this same conflicted feeling.
Teen years I was expected to fill in for mother when she was sick, including receiving the Mother day tributes each year. She would have me cook without explaining things so I would burn it. She would have me do more and more until I failed. Should I succeed the consequences would be an increase attacks on my stupidity, clumsiness or other negative attributes. At age 17 I swore never to have children if I was going to be anything like her.
Well, Heavenly Father through a series of personal events softened my heart. I met and married an amazing man and we have 6 wonderful children. I still hate Mother's day. I screwed up as a mom. I made mistakes, some were real doozies. I would go to church on Mother's day and hear what all the other wonderful women were doing and I felt terrible that I was not doing all those things. I fell into the horrible habit of comparing other people's best to my worse. I felt even worse when they would pat me on the shoulder and say, "You are doing the best you can." NO, I wasn't. I knew lots of times I knew better than what I was doing. I set myself impossible standards. Of course I failed, I was taught to fail. Should I succeed, my internal negative tape would castigate me for every single little and big mistake. I messed up.
Ten years of counseling taught me two important things. 1. People mess up. It is like we are designed to screw up in some way. 2. I will never be like my mother because all along the way I made different choices. I am much more forgiving of myself. I still hate Mother's day. It is painful for those women that want to have children but can't. It is a brutal reminder to those whose children died. It is infuriating for those with mother's that were their abusers. A few years ago I made a decision. Stop going to church on Mother's day. DH (Darling Husband) comes home and tells me how wonderful and inspirational the talks are but he's not a mother. He is not being weighed and judged by a brutal inner critic. He doesn't sit their remembering past mistakes. He can enjoy the message without feeling the weighted burden of failure. I shouldn't but I still feel it. Rather than fight the feeling, I kindly allow myself to stay home.
I enjoy hearing from my amazing wonderful adult children and their spouses. I appreciate the gifts and messages of love. I am learning to forgive myself for mistakes I made. I enjoy not hearing how wonderful everyone else is. I learned to scroll on by when a person shares how much they miss their mother if they have died. I allow them to feel their feelings. When I think about my mother, I remember our last conversation when she explained why she hated me and she had to make sure that my father hated me too. She was twisted by fear and messed up thinking. I feel sad for her that she made herself so miserable. She's dead now. Maybe she will find peace. I don't miss her. I am not sad she is gone. Today the first Mother's day after her death, I stayed home and wrote this. I hate Mother's day for many reasons. Maybe in another 10 years my heart will soften enough to be able to go to church on Mother's day, but I won't hold my breath.
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