I hate Mother’s Day

Of course, given that today is Mother’s Day, I’ve been thinking about the fact that my mother is out of my life. It does not escape me that many of us on here struggle with PTSD or DID as a result of our childhood experiences with our mothers. I’m also certain that many of you, like me, have dreaded this day, especially when you look at your Facebook newsfeed and you see all of these lovely status updates about loving mom, having a great mom, missing a dearly departed mom, etc. This feels like the only place in the universe where I can say that I unequivocally HATE mother’s day.

Saying that you hate mother’s day is like saying you hate puppies or world peace. It’s simply a socially unacceptable thing to admit or talk about in any form where you are not anonymous. Yet, we know that there are children out there, too many children, that are taken from their parents because of abusive situations. We’ve all read stories of mothers killing their children. Then there are the countless other children that go unnoticed and reach adulthood with a terrorizing mother. For all of these children, I weep. I weep because a mother is such a fundamental part of life. We can only come into this life with a mother, but not all of those mothers are up to the task. And there is no rhyme or reason as to which of us in this life are blessed with a kind mother, and which of us are not.

On this day I reflect on how I learned not to ask for my mother for a hug, and how I was not one of the kids who would cry for her mommy. I would cry because I was sad or scared, but I did not want my mother. She was never a source of comfort. There was never that quintessential mother/daughter embrace where you feel that mother/daughter love.

Today my mother is out of my life, and has been since 2006. Unfortunately, life is more peaceful without my mother in my life. Regardless of everything that has happened between me and my mother I only want peace for her. When she does pass away I think that I’ll likely feel the same way I feel on Mother’s day, sadness for the mother I never had.

It’s refreshing to come on here and say that, yes, my mother is still alive. No, I have no contact with her. And, yes, I am very okay with that. No, I will not regret that when she dies. I only regret I did not do it sooner. No, I do not love my mother. I do not hate her either. She is just a person I have to contend with in my life. I wish her no ill will. I only wish that I continue to not see her for the rest of my days on this earth. Life is too short to share with hateful, narcissistic and vindictive people. My mother, unfortunately, falls in this category.

Eternal love goes out to all of you out there that did not have the mother you needed. Listen to me when I say that it is not a reflection of your worth. Don’t let a less than loving mother determine your worth in this life.

Sometimes you just have to ask

Christmas in the post-War United States

I’m going to see my sister Cate for Christmas this year! I’ve been singing Christmas carols since yesterday when Cate and I first started talking about it. I think that somewhere in the back of my mind I convinced myself that I was not entitled to have a nice Christmas with family. I never asked her if I could visit for Christmas. I believe I presumed that she was not interested.

It seems like I just eliminated holiday happiness from my list of life possibilities. This year I said to myself, “Why? Why have I decided that the holidays have to be lonely for me? Why do I choose to be alone?” I did not have a satisfactory answer.

I made all these assumptions without even investigating them. The irony is that I was an investigator for a number of years, and I was a good investigator. Perhaps I was only good because I wasn’t investigating myself!

Last Christmas was pretty good, but I was at the residential program at McLean Hospital. I told my sister that I think we can easily top last year’s Christmas since I was at a psychiatric hospital. I think the bar is low. She laughed. I love making her laugh. She’s always been wiser than me, even though I’m older. But, I can make her laugh. She’s a laser-focused type-A personality, and it always feels great to make Ms. Serious laugh.

I just took a chance, and asked her if I could come for Christmas. She not only said yes, but she offered and used frequent flyer miles to get me an airline ticket. I almost cried. I’m turning 40 next month, but I think my birthday present came early this year.

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

No God

Today, for the first time in my life, I admitted that I believe that God does not like me, does not care for me. It’s not something that is easy to admit, but it is true that this is how I feel, what I believe. I want the truth to be otherwise.

An hour passed since I wrote the paragraph above.

The realization that there is not one thing I would do in the world for my mother and stepfather is painful for me. I’ve tried and tried to search in my heart for feeling for them, but there is none to be had. I come up empty every single time.

When friends shake their heads at this fact I want shake them back and yell, “Don’t you know that I wish I could find a shred of feeling for them?! It is painful to feel nothing for one’s parents. The guilt is immense.”

If you blow out a candle enough times you eventually will be unable to relight it. You can only relight it so many times. My parents extinguished the light long ago. I’ve tried to relight it for them to no avail.

When the light was extinguished for my parents it seems that God blew out my candle as well.