It’s okay if you hate your mom on mother’s day
It’s okay if you can’t muster up any good feelings towards your mother today.
It’s okay if you hate her. It’s okay if you don’t want to see her, or hear from her, or send her a card, or pretend that everything is fine.
It’s not your job. It was never your job to take care of her. It has never been your job to fix her. It has never been your job to unconditionally love her into tolerating you.
You know you’ve never expected perfection of her. You know you’ve never needed any grand riches or to have every waking moment of her attention. Your needs have never been too much.
It’s okay if you hate her. Her job was to give her unconditional love to you, to show you your worth, or to find you a support system that could. Never perfection. Just a tiny bit of effort, just a tiny hint of caring. It was never your fault that she couldn’t. You have never and will never deserve to have to sacrifice your soul to save hers.
So in case you’re without a mommy today, or stuck near one that you hate, let me be your mom today (I am kinda pretty okay at it most days) and tell you:
Every breath you’ve taken since your first has been a work of art. Every cell of your body, head to toe, is beautiful perfection. Every day that you have lived has been better because you are in the world. From the moment you were born, your tiny fingers and toes and belly and nose have been worth adoration. Every tear you’ve cried, whether about something silly or serious, has been worth a gentle wipe from your cheeks and a reminder that it will feel better some day. Your growing body and mind have always been unique and courageous and strong and silly and awkward and wonderful. You lost your teeth, you looked very goofy, and it was the best thing in the world. You grew up through puberty, your body changed and got hairy and oily and stinky and lumpy, and it was absolutely magnificent just because you were you, every lanky awkward bit. You have always been worthy of love, patience, and adoration, even turning into a teenager with emotions too big for your heart. You deserved to have someone catch them as they overflowed, even if you were kind of a jerk for a while. The identity you’ve developed over all those years is worth celebration. Whoever you love, no matter what they look like, is an incredible thing because anyone should be so lucky to be loved by you. Any name or category or title or pronoun or clothing you’ve wanted to try on matters whether it’s a short phase or who you’ll be for the rest of your life. You belong only to yourself, and no one can take that from you. Your body is yours and it deserves nothing but kindness and respect. Your body is sacred. No one has ever had the right to violate that. Your body does not belong to anyone, for any purpose. Your words are trustworthy, your experiences are yours, and I believe you. You deserve to be fought for, tooth and nail, every moment of the day because protecting your small growing soul is the most worthwhile effort in the entire universe. You deserve comfort and forgiveness. Your messes and mistakes are part of growing and learning. You deserve someone to give their time and love to guide you through that growing and learning, with nothing expected in return. Your tiny hands are perfect for holding until the moment you decide to let go and step away on your own. And my arms are here any time you need to come back. No matter what.
You deserve nothing less. You are stardust recycled into bones and skin and laughter and magic. Who you are is sacred, and always incomplete, and always full of flaws and you get to be loved even with a million imperfections. Your job is to be kind and gentle to yourself, and to give kindness and gentility into the world. Your job will never be to tear yourself to pieces to repair her damage. You don’t have to do that any more.
Alex is four years estranged from The Womb That Hates Her, and three years hobbling through mothering her own kid who (in spite of every annoying part of being three) will hopefully never need to go to therapy because of her. Fingers crossed. You can find Alex at Facebook, Instagram, Etsy, Email (hello at msandry dot com), and Carrier Pigeon.