Mother's Day can be Rough
It's not all sunshine and roses
Author’s note: this is a very vulnerable piece. I have struggled almost my whole life emotionally, feeling alone and in my own head. Perfectionism kept me pretty closed off, unable to ask for help since that would be admitting that I didn’t have all my shit together. I definitely don’t have all my shit together, but now I can own it. I am human. I make human mistakes, and try to grow from them. Please read with an open mind and an open heart.
Then
I have been a mother since my oldest son, “J,” made his way out of my body and into the world after 24.5 hours of labor. That was 21 years ago. I was elated and exhausted, and for the next few years I felt the overwhelm of being a new mother.
I tried to do everything “right,” I breast fed him for 2.5 years, co-slept, fed him only organic foods, put him in cloth diapers (until he started eating solids), and held and wore him on my body as much as I could. I always felt like I was failing, but kept trying the best I could.
When his younger brother, “T” was born, the overwhelm tripled (not doubled). I didn’t want J to feel replaced by his brother, like I did as a child, but meeting all of the needs of a newborn and all of the needs of an almost 4 year old, wasn’t possible for me. I felt split all the time, like I couldn’t meet anyone’s needs. Especially not my own, as I was at the bottom of the priority list.
His dad was great with him, but I couldn’t show up for J the way I had before. I didn’t have the bandwidth. I would nurse the baby while snuggling in bed with him, reading to him, so that I could still put him to bed at night. But those days were so hard. I was so aware of wanting him to feel like he mattered, that he was deeply loved, but I was drowning in baby and my own feelings of inadequacy. The first 6 months of T’s life is a complete blur.
All I can remember now was the exhaustion, the overwhelm, and the depression. I had no time to myself. I was working, trying to build my acupuncture business and teaching yoga, and I was barely making it through each day. My then husband and I tried to “divide and conquer” with taking care of the kids, but nobody’s emotional needs were being met.
Now
Now my boys are 17 and 21. I have an incredible relationship with T, after a lot of work on myself, but not so much with J. In 2016 I told his dad I wanted to end our marriage. J read the email I sent his dad and he was devastated.* I didn’t get to explain it all to him in the way that I wanted, nor to his brother years later.
Nothing about that discussion went according to plan. Like everything else in my life, I felt I had no control over something that I had planned out so carefully. As a result, J no longer talks to me, still to this day. He resents me for “ruining his family and changing everything.” He’s not good with change, and this change was a big one.
His dad and I still live together for now, but are no longer together as a couple. It was the only way we could make it work financially and still be able to afford the kids’ expensive extra-curricular activities. We co-parent relatively successfully this way, but the rift between J and me still remains.
He won’t talk to anyone about it, he refuses therapy, and his anger at me always lies just below the surface. I try to give him his space, especially when we are both home. I get glimmers of moments when it doesn’t feel like he hates me, and the love I knew once upon a time peeks out, but it’s hard. For both of us. He’s going away to school in the fall which will be a nice breather for both of us. I hope that someday we can repair the rift, but the future is unknown. I would repair this moment, but it’s not up to me.
I get it. I was angry with my own mom for decades. The difference is I have gotten help. I hope someday my son gets help too.
“Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.” ~Buddha
I have struggled with my relationship to my own mother for my whole life. While she absolutely did her best, it also wasn’t enough for what I needed as a child. She never saw me, she only saw who she wanted me to be. This is still true. She wasn’t emotionally capable of meeting my needs. It was painful and I still grapple with my feelings toward her. I find it hard to want a relationship with her today.
Mother’s Day
Mother’s Day, especially in the last 10 or so years, has been a rough day for me. Other people have wonderful relationships with their kids and their own mothers and are excited to spend the day. I want to stay in bed and hide all day until it’s over.
The grief I hold around my relationship with J and my own mother is a lot on Mother’s Day. The day brings everything to the forefront. Everything that I ignore, or numb, or suppress on a day-to-day basis comes rushing at me, forcing me to feel it.
And I feel it.
Grief is hard on a day when you “should” to be celebrating. I know I need to stop “should-ing” all over myself. I also know I am not the only one feeling grief on this day.
There are people who want to be mothers and can’t.
There are people who have lost their own mothers.
There are people who have lost their children.
Mother’s day can be difficult for all sorts of people, of all genders and family designations.
If you feel grief on this day, I give you full permission to feel it (not that you need my permission). You don’t need to put on a smile, suck it up and be “happy” for the sake of others. Whether you’ve given birth or not, whether you have a child or not, whether you have a mother or not, feel what you feel on this day. There’s no “should.” There is only what is.
Mother’s Day is a day that can be both full of love and joy, and full of grief and sadness. I try to hold it all, but it is a heavy load.
I’m doing the best I can.
Today’s topic was a tough one, and only tangentially related to yoga, but I felt this was an important topic to share. Yoga teaches you not only what to do with your body, but what to do with your heart and mind as well. When I teach, I promote practicing kindness and gentleness toward yourself, and today I honored myself with kindness as I shared my personal struggles and put them out in the open, releasing some of the shame. If you see yourself as someone who struggles to ask for help, can be stuck in your own head, or is a deeply feeling person, I am here for you. I hope my writing helps you feel seen and known.
I invite you to share your Mother’s Day feelings, no matter what they are. Celebration, grief, and everything in between. Let’s hold space for each other.
* As an introvert, I process and explain myself better through writing. I see it as a way to start a conversation and say what I want to say without getting flustered in the moment. This was the way my kids’ dad and I communicated through the later years of our marriage (and still) and it works for us.
Janine, tomorrow take the time to honor yourself. Take the hand of the little girl you once were & tell her how special she is and how much she is worthy of love. Take the time to be a mother to yourself. My son & I were estranged for years when he was J’s age for similar reasons but as he grew & experienced his own misgivings & mistakes, he found his was back to me understanding that despite how much he thought I let him down, he figured out that everything I did came from a deep place of love and was able to let his anger go. Today, our relationship is one rooted in love, mutual respect and a healthy humorous regard for each other’s quirky behaviors.
My heart goes out to you. I have a very similar story - two boys, divorce. But it is my youngest who has pulled away from me. I was estranged from my mother for over 30 years before her death and fear it gives my kids the idea that it is okay to just walk away when things get rough. (Of course the estrangement was much more serious than that.) I hate mother's day. And because I live in Norway, I get hit with it twice a year - once here and once in the media. So much guilt. We each find our way, I guess. I do take my guilt to the mat. Sometimes it helps. Sometimes, it really doesn't. I know that makes me a heretic.