When Mother’s Day is Unhappy

When I was in fifth grade my elementary class and I were asked to make the best possible Mother’s Day card for our mother.  To make the situation even sweeter, our local KFC would be awarding prizes to the top three cards. 

My knee jerk reaction at that time was, “Do I have to?”

You see, unlike most of the kids in my class, I didn’t have the same warm thoughts and feelings about my mom.  At just 10 years old, our relationship was already strained.  But prizes were involved.  I had to come up with something honest. 

None of the, “You’re the greatest mother in the whole world” Hallmark sort of stuff either.  Somehow it needed to be unique enough to stand out while remaining truthful.

What nice thing could I say about the woman who gave birth to me far too young to know how to be a fit mother?

Making it Happen

All I could think about was her beauty.  My mother has always been known for primping in front of the mirror trying to get her hair and make-up just right.  I would often stare at her as she applied shades of pink and magenta Wet n Wild lipstick to her pouty upper lip wondering if I would grow up to be as pretty.  

With a white sheet of paper and a set of colored pencils, I got to work.  I sketched a vase with a bouquet of roses, then carefully outlined each flower petal with red pencil, smudging the excess inward for a realistic effect.  

The card read:

Of all of these flowers, not one is as beautiful as you.  

And for a special touch, I signed the back of the card, Taramark, instead of Hallmark.  I was so clever.

A few weeks later, my card won the contest and KFC awarded me with a brand new mountain bike.  The irony of it all still makes me shake my head.

I didn’t have the sincere affection for my mother that my classmates expressed in their Elmer glue gobbed cards.  I had a mountain bike and a mountain of hurt, which I carried for a long time.

Handling the Pain

Every Mother’s Day still hurts to some degree.  It pains me that my mother and I don’t have a good relationship.  I wish that I could shop through the greeting card section in search of the most beautiful expression of love in words that $5.95 can buy.  And I know that I’m not alone.

I realize that others hurt on Mother’s Day, too.  Some were also deeply wounded by their mother.  Some never had a mother or have lost a mother.  Others may have had a mother figure who has gone away.  

I want to acknowledge you.  I want you to know that it’s okay to feel sad on Mother’s Day.  You are not alone or unlucky because of your circumstances.

You’re Still Allowed to Have a Lovely Day

In the past, Mother’s Day has been quite emotionally triggering for me, causing me to stifle the joy of my present life.  It’s gotten easier over time.  I’m more aware of my triggers and approach the holiday with intention.

*RELATED TOPIC: The Thief of Joy*

I may not have had the kind of mother that my heart desired, but I have had countless females in my life who have loved me as their own.  I get to be an outstanding mother to my children because I experienced many of the “don’ts” of parenthood early in life.

I refuse to blame my mother solely for the bad things that she brought to my life.  I blame her for the good that came out of being her daughter, too. 

I blame her for making me extra affectionate towards my babies. 

I blame her for making me want to be there for all of their games and events. 

I blame her that I know how to quiet my voice with my children.

I blame her for making me resourceful. 

I blame her for making me strong. 

I blame her for making me kind and considerate of others. 

I blame her that I can write this article and touch another heart today.

*RELATED TOPIC: Fighting for Joy*