It’s no secret I have mommy issues, and Mother’s Day stresses me out over the relationship I have with my mother. Trying to find an appropriate card makes my head hurt because they say way too much. She hasn’t been the best mother in the world, or my role model, or even my friend. And she didn’t show me how to be a strong woman either. I looked to my grandmothers and aunts for that inspiration.
If you follow me on or , you’ve probably read my status updates regarding my mother’s foray into online dating. Technical issues aside, she now considers herself an expert, offering unsolicited advice about my own dating life. Or lack thereof, I should say. She’s afraid I’m going to spend the rest of my life without a man to take care of me. What she doesn’t understand, even though I’ve told her numerous times, is that I don’t need—or want—a man to take care of me. I’ve got that. What I do want, eventually, is a supportive partner. It’s a concept she is unable to grasp.
My mommy issues began long ago when she cheated on my father with a family friend. The scandalous affair ended publicly with law enforcement and a handwritten note in our mailbox containing a threat to rape “the green-eyed girl.” I was thirteen at the time.
Her second husband, who was an alcoholic, chronic liar, and a compulsive gambler, was an even bigger gem than the spineless asshat who helped my mother blow my family apart.
I’ve written a little about the strained relationship with my mother in , but it’s just the tip of one fucked up iceberg, really. Maybe one day I’ll reach the point where I’m ready to talk about how we went for months without speaking when I told her my husband-to-be was a black man, and how she didn’t come to my wedding or make any attempt at reconciliation until she found out I was pregnant with my daughter.
Her idea of motherhood has been conditional, apparently.
So Mother’s Day has been dicey for me for many years; many reasons, but today, I am able to look at my own children knowing that I am the best mother I can possibly be, that they look to me as a role model AND their friend. And I know without a doubt that I am the one who is teaching my daughter how to be a strong woman. For those reasons alone, it is definitely a happy Mother’s Day.
I understand your article, believe me! I have the luxury of spending this Mother’s Day without having to worry about her this year.
She died, you see, several months ago. I have no memories of her saying, “I love you,” or hugs for a job well done.
My father was a wonderful man, but I lost him when I was 13. I miss him every day.
But mother? Not so much . . . well, truthfully, not at all.
deni
I’m so sorry to hear that, Deni.
I’ve read your book and I’ve read loads of your posts. I know without a shadow of a doubt that your children are incredibly lucky – and blessed – to have you for their mother. All the pain you went through in your relationship with your own mother was not for nothing. It made you the person you are today and the relationship you share with your children today is proof of that.
Thank you, Julia. And ALL THE HUGS to you!
There is (quite fortunately) nothing in my experience that allows me to really understand that sort of relationship. Despite that, you have my sympathy for the difficulty you’ve been through and my admiration for pushing through it with your own children.
Thank you.