Oh Mother's Day.
Mothers.
There's so much I want to say, yet it is so hard to begin.
I usually try to just ignore Mother's Day; it's so painful for me. But the truth is - every day is just as painful. Always looming under the surface is ache, grief, and longing...and whenever I touch it, it triggers shame, and oftentimes fear and anxiety.
When I was a child, I always felt seen by my mom. When I was upset, she could tell and would pursue my heart, while comforting me in her lap. Even to this day her mother's intuition is SO perceptive...but things are different now.
When I was in late elementary school, she started having some emotional problems. I was young and I don't recall it really affecting me. In middle school is when everything changed. It was just the two of us living together. In addition to the mental illnesses that were brewing, she developed significant physical pain and I slipped into the role of caretaker. I got myself to school; I worked hard and was an honor roll student; I played sports after school; I provided for my own needs at home; and I took care of her needs.....I still remember the nights waking up to her screams.
I didn't realize I was losing my mother, but I must have felt it because I started looking to another woman for connection, comfort and nurturing. She was a teacher at my middle school. I felt such strong feelings it scared me, and I decided to share them with her in the hopes of getting help.
...
...
...all these years later, I still struggle to find words to tell what that did to me.
I know people thought they were helping...but I did not get help, in fact, what happened as a result left a deeper scar than even losing my mom. I had already been confused, but then I was labeled - people were concerned that I was suicidal, that I was gay, and that I was a stalker...literally, a stalker.
I started believing so many lies: It's not okay to have needs. I have to do everything myself. It's bad to share my feelings. It's bad to notice details about people, what they do and like, and then use them to show love and care. Being needed is the only way to secure people's time, appreciation and love; I have to have something to offer to be loved.
I have grown a lot since then, so in my head I "know" the truth, but I still feel ashamed to desire a woman's nurturing presence. SO. ASHAMED. I know that it is a God-given desire! Yet that middle school trauma still suffocates my heart. I fear that my needs are a burden. I fear rejection and abandonment. I fear scaring people with my vulnerability. Despite all these fears, I can't help but to always be on the lookout for a mother-figure, or at least connection and nurturing from women. Because I know shame is a liar, I have tried many times to be courageous and vulnerable by trying to attach to mentors or mother-figures. It is always a nerve-wracking, anxiety-filled process. With only one other woman, Michelle, did I begin to feel totally secure...and then she passed away. I tasted again what that security was like, but I didn't have her long enough for her love to sink deep enough to help me believe in my belonging and worth. It is so hard to believe I will ever have a safe, nurturing bosom where I belong. The message I really struggle with is "no one will ever love me like they love their own child". I remember many days in middle school and high school, staring out my bedroom window wanting to run away, or wishing that child protective services would take me away so I could be adopted by a loving family. I wish I could say that longing has left...but I still long to have a mother I can call on good days and bad days, and every day in between, a mother who has the time for me, a mother who gives lots of hugs and who will just hold me, a mother who, like when I was a child, would see me and embrace me.
I can't believe I'm sharing these things with you, I'm gonna have such a vulnerability hangover (as Brene Brown would call it) after posting this - feeling so exposed and just ashamed. Why am I doing this again? Mother's Day, right.
So that's half of the grief and pain I feel on Mother's Day - the grief of having lost my mom, the pain of searching and continuing to be hurt, and the pain of living without a mother.
The other half of the grief and pain I feel on Mother's Day is because my mom is still here.
My mom still suffers from significant mental illness, and is in so much emotional pain and misery herself. It is like a cancer that leaves her alive, just wishing she were dead. She cannot or does not take care of herself consistently, yet it is so hard to help her because she is difficult to work with. In the last 6 months, she has lived in three different assisted living facilities, and it is not going well in the current one. I have grief upon grief as I see and hear her live in such misery. [I realize what I'm about to say may sound ungrateful in the ears of those who have lost loved ones, and maybe I am...my heart here is to simply be honest and share where I am along my journey.] Sometimes I think, "It would be easier if she were dead, because then she would not be miserable anymore, and I could at least grieve and move forward." But she is still here, and I continue to face new grief with every phase of her journey, on top of the grief I already have of not having a mother.
So Mother's Day is so painful for me. I usually avoid social media because all the beautiful posts remind me of what I don't have. And I don't want people to feel bad for sharing, because posts about mothers and from mothers are so beautiful. I am SO grateful that others have wonderful experiences with or from their mothers, and that they don't hurt like I do. For me it is just like hunger pains...so I guess I just stay away from the dining room because I know none of the food is mine.
I am always seeking healing, and have seen and heard that I need to change the story I'm telling myself. I believe in the power of mindfulness...but I guess I still get stuck on not having a consistent experience. I want to change the story I tell myself, but I don't even know what other story I could tell myself. I believe the Bible when it says it is not good for man to be alone - I believe there are some things we cannot do by ourselves. How can I possibly heal a relational hurt in isolation? How can I rewrite my story by myself? And yeah, I know God ultimately can fulfill all my needs...they why hasn't he? And if he wants me to/for himself, then why doesn't he help me see, understand and experience him as my mother? Psalm 131 has always been a source of wonder and confusion for me. I meditate on it often, but it rarely gets far. Maybe when I have my own children I will understand it better...but still only from the other side. What does it feel like to feel calm and quiet, like a weaned child with its mother? That is what I think I began to taste with Michelle before her death.
I think there's hope, but I don't think I'm very hopeful. I know these are scars I will live with the rest of my life. I know it is really painful right now, and I can get lost in that. But in 20 years, I think something will have happened in me and I'll have made progress. But here I am, in the present, thinking about Mother's Day coming up with mixed emotions. I want to celebrate mothers, and I love seeing mothers being present and caring with their children, but it doesn't come without some pain sometimes.
