I hate mother's day - it always evokes negative feelings, rather than happy ones. My mother always tried to force love and respect from us on mother's day, and thus it actually became a very difficult day for our family, rather than a special one.
We couldn't do anything right. If we made breakfast, we got yelled at for not making lunch. If we did the dishes for the day, mother cried because she'd had to cook. If we didn't get the right present, chosen from her precise list, then there were tears and tantrums. If my mother had to lift a finger on mother's day, then she was somehow less respected than the other mothers, her family less caring, and her life more burdensome.
Sometimes, if we were particularly unlucky, it would all go pear shaped and we would get the full monty. We would hear all about what failures we were, how we were such a horrible family, how we would send our mother to an asylum. She would storm out of the house and we were never sure when she would come back.
I'm not saying we were perfect: we were probably rather lazy and uncommitted. But that's not the way to go about loving your kids and gaining their respect. In my opinion, a good mother's day would include acceptance and grace and appreciation for however your family tries to love you. When love becomes conditional, and becomes about ritual and meeting some unspoken set of criteria, then it's not really love, but duty. And the danger with this is that any love that does exist can become resentment.
Whenever it gets to that time of year when all your junk mail and spam emails shout "EVERYTHING FOR MUM", "SOMETHING SPECIAL FOR SOMEONE SPECIAL", "TREAT MUM ON HER SPECIAL DAY" all I want to do is snarl and rip it all up with my spittle-covered teeth. You can't buy love. You can't force love. You can't hurt others in the name of love.
If you love your mum and she loves you, you don't need to pander to some stupid day to prove it. And just because you don't buy into the dictates of consumerism doesn't mean you love each other any less.
This year, I won't be celebrating mother's day. I've tried so hard every other year, and I'm tired. Love should be reciprocal. I know it isn't always, and I know the Christlike thing is to love regardless, but this year I'm afraid the stretch is too great. If you're always going to come up short then there comes a time when you decide to try a little less.
I'm sick of coming up short.
Wow, brutally honest. Mothers day is easier to dismiss when you are 17000kms from home (as I do) and it happens on different days of the year.
ReplyDelete"Sorry mum, I guess the fact that it's on different days highlights how much of a money making racket it all is."
But maybe I was lucky, mum did appreciate the flowers that were picked whether they were leaking sap on the carpet of not..So even now I like to make the effort, especially at other times of the year. Diffuse the significance of mothers day. Nip it in the bud, so to speak.
Best of luck with it all and never doubt your ability to find higher ground.
(Anyway, I just stumbled across your blog whilst seeking out info on Macarons in NZ. )
Regards,
Richard
I know what you mean. My mom left home at 16 years old, pregnant and newly married to a boy who thought he was a man. She lost her first baby to cystic fibrosis when the toddler was less than two years old. She had her second child at 18 and left her husband at the age of 21. He came to visit her one night and forced her to have sex. She discovered two weeks later she was pregnant.
ReplyDeleteI was that baby.
Mom married a good man who loved her and the two little kids that came as a package deal. But in spite of this turn of events, my mom was fragile.
Growing up, I never knew what to expect. There was physical abuse and apologies. There were humiliating punishments, harsh words, and tearful requests for forgiveness.
It wasn’t always bad in my home, but when it was it was loud and chaotic and frightening. I feared one day that my mom would pull the trigger or hurt herself. I hated the words that came out of her mouth when she was angry.
One day my mom chased me through the house, brandishing an umbrella as she screamed at me. I ran out the door and into the rain. I was wearing a T-shirt and jeans and no shoes. The cold rain pelted me as I ran down Latimer Street. I pushed through the wetness, pumping my arms as I ran as fast as I could. Finally I stopped, bending down to catch my breath as my tears meshed with the raindrops. I slowly turned around and walked home, sat on the curb, and wept until my throat closed.
I was stuck. I couldn’t run away. I had no money, no place to go.
I started smoking at the bus stop, pushing boundaries with my teachers, and drinking with my best friend. My attempts to be tough must have appeared hilarious to others. I was skinny to a fault and looked younger than my age. Being tough didn’t come natural. My heart was gentle and I hated conflict and fighting, yet every single time I let my guard down someone hurt me.
That’s when the hardness crept in. Never let them see you cry. Never give them a chance to know you care.
One day it all came to a head. My mom pulled us around her in her bedroom. She put a gun to her head and threatened to shoot herself. I was scared, but not because I thought she would die, but because under my breath I whispered, “just do it”.
Hi Richard! Thanks for the comment, it's always nice to hear from randoms :)
ReplyDeleteThanks too for your advice. I've got to remember that I can rise above it! Things all turned to custard this year because Mum did something offensive and I stood up for myself and said 'hey you can't treat me like that, it isn't fair and its hurtful'. It wasn't about hurting Mum, it was about protecting myself. And she's got all offended about it, but I have stood my ground. Its hard, three weeks later, trying to remember that it's not me who has done something wrong, and I can choose the way I react to this.
(Did you find your Macaron stuff? Did you get here through Mrs Cake's blog by any chance? Anyway thanks for your comment :) )
Hi Rebel Heart,
ReplyDeleteIs this your story, or that of someone you know? Either way it's pretty sad - and I can certainly understand why someone might wish to be free of a mother who hasn't nurtured like a mother should.
I hope this person has found peace in more recent times...