Mother’s Day (and Father’s Day) is a hard day for some. Maybe your mom died, and it makes you miss her all the more. Maybe seeing the flowers, the cards, the cute little gifts, etc. celebrating mothers makes something hurt inside. I know the feeling very well.
As of several months ago, I have not spoken to either of my parents, and as of a few months ago, they were ordered by the police to stop contacting me unless I should choose to contact them. Some weeks ago, they saw my therapist who told me that while mother didn’t exactly deny saying or doing what she said and did, she figured that’s what mother’s did. I guess I can see why; her mother verbally abused her and her sisters, too. The terms used at home about it was “discipline”, “a needed push”, and yes, “love” – “I’m doing this because I love you. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t care and let you do whatever.”
My therapist also told me she cried during their talk, and that my father told him that she has been crying every day since she got the order not to contact me. As it happens, their last question was about seeing me. My therapist told them no, that I still needed work before then, and they haven’t contacted him since. Not surprising. Evidence points to it just being an attempt to get access from me, or maybe taking what my therapist said to mean that they should wait until he’s “fixed” me.
So…that’s the current situation. This is a small glimpse of how I saw maternal love since I was about 6. It doesn’t make sense to me, words like “comfort”, “encouragement”, or “always there for me” I see on the cards. I just hear mine telling me everything bad or wrong about me. When I see the beautiful, colorful flowers, all I see is the ripped up yellow roses I found in the trash the the morning after I gave them to mine.
The word “mother” doesn’t give me a warm embrace whenever I hear it. It’s an imprisoning word, cold and harsh, and makes me very sad and confused.
Studies often talk about the importance of the father in a child’s development (and rightly so). Sometimes I wonder if this makes people forget the importance of the mother, especially for a girl. It’s from her mother that she learns how to be a woman. Mother cursed me to have a daughter just like me one day, so it’s something I want to learn about before I even start dating.
It’s hard, but not impossible. Examples are hard for me to find, but some ladies do teach me some things about true feminine friendship and sisterly/motherly love. I’d like to visit statues of Mary and just talk to her, not unlike visiting a mother’s grave. I really do feel the same comfort people would say they would get with such visits, as strange as that may sound.
I’m going to be working tomorrow, but I may leave a flower for the Mary outside the church. Maybe that’ll heal the memory of the ripped roses in the trash.