Mother's Day Can Go Either Way

Many of you already know that I don't talk to my mother, and with very good reason, so Mother's Day could be a lousy day for me. It tends to be for kids who have been abused, because often it was either their mothers doing it, or the mothers were allowing it to happen. In my case it was the latter with an additional blame-the-victim game tacked on, so I felt my life would be much happier without that in it.

However, I'm lucky. I have a daughter who loves me, and who I love even more. Proper mothers do - it's supposed to be their jobs. Sometimes we have to be tough with our kids, and I doubt anyone can imagine me being a pushover as a parent, but all's well that ends well. My daughter and I happen to be very much alike, and she knows without a doubt that I would tear apart the whole world for her. A lot will roll off me like water off a duck's back, but anything against my child makes you my mortal enemy.

Being that kind of mother, and my daughter being the kind of person she is, means that we can have a Mother's Day where we say, "I love you," make, "Cut the mushy crap," remarks, call each other names like they're endearments, and then hug and go back to everyday life. Mother's Day doesn't turn into a big production, which would irritate the crap out of me anyway. As a mother I don't want my daughter stressing out about stupid things like finding a restaurant that has an available table. I might tell her she needs to change the kitty litter today. That would make my whole day, and the few days after... Impersonating a sardine in a sweat lodge, however...not so much.

Don't get me wrong - I told my daughter every single day that I loved her, while she was still in the growing-up phase. I hugged her every night before bedtime. I needed her to know what she meant to me, because I knew what it meant to not have that from anyone. Now that she's an adult, she shies away from that much affection, as is her right. She just isn't built that way, and I'm not either - at least I'm not when it's outside of some sort of romantic context. There are good reasons for that. However, while she was growing up I knew I needed to be a full parent, no matter how difficult my upbringing made that for me.

The quick explanation for that is, when you're brought up is such a way that you're either not touched at all, or you're touched inappropriately, normal physical affection with children is not easy. I had one guardian hitting me, and the other doing worse, or I had zero contact. There was no normal, in-between affection. So, I had to learn that in-between state in order to give my daughter a normal upbringing - one where love wasn't twisted and harmful, or non-existent. I swore I would break the dysfunctional cycle my family has been in for a very long time.

I did it. It wasn't that hard, really. I simply chose to never abandon her, never beat her, never molest her - none of which I had any desire to do anyway. The thought of any one of those was abhorrent to me, and makes me wonder why in the hell it was so difficult for the people who combined together in my life to raise me. Seriously! The longer I was a mother, the less I understood any of the decisions made by those people. The older I got, the more puzzling it was, and eventually they simply became pitiable people I had no wish for further contact with.

If I didn't have my daughter, though, I would despise Mother's Day I'm sure. I would have nothing but contempt for motherhood if I had never become a mother, because I would never have known about the mothers who truly love. I would  have no understanding for the friends who hurt so badly on Mother's Day because their mothers are gone. My second husband, actually, who I still call a friend (no, he's not the one I generally talk about as 'my ex' although that would be a descriptor I could use for him, too, I suppose), is one of those people. He lost his mother about a month ago. Right about the time I lost Stimpy, actually. I sent him a private message on Facebook, expressing my condolences again, because I knew it had to be hitting him hard today.

It was because his loss was so recent that I thought of him right away, and I saw he was posting Mother's Day stuff on Facebook. It can't be easy. Then I realized all the other friends of mine who have lost their mothers, or the friends I have whose kids aren't speaking to them, well, they have to be having a difficult day today. I hurt for them, because I'm lucky enough to have a reason to be happy today. I don't want to say too much to people, because I'm afraid to remind them and make them feel worse, but at the same time I feel like if I don't say something I'm being a thoughtless friend.

The fact is, if I'm actually friends with someone and I give them a good portion of my time, it's only because I think they're great people who are worthy of giving them that portion of my life. I don't waste my time on people who are not. I feel bad for the friends whose kids aren't speaking to them, with a side order of guilt because I'm on the end that isn't speaking to my mother. I don't feel guilty about her, but toward my friends. I want them to understand that I don't think of them as the kinds of mothers who should be written off by their kids. If I thought that about them at all, again, they would not be my friends. Some mothers are not worthy of their children, but then some children are not worthy of their parents either. My friends aren't in those categories.

Yes, I know, I can't speak in absolutes without being in the middle of the situation myself, but I feel I get pretty good glimpses of people when I talk to them every day for months on end. One friend runs a ferret rescue and I've known her for years. She's dedicated her life to giving. She sacrifices her health and every penny that comes her way. This is not a person who is a heartless taker. If she were, she wouldn't be doing what she does. I don't like to mention names when it comes to giving out personal details about people, so I won't start now, but people close to her will know who she is.

Another mother I talk to a lot is having similar issues, and I'll let her tell her own tale there. She's better at it than I will ever be. I just wanted her to know that these temporary issues don't diminish the fact that she is a mother, and was there every step of the way. One day those steps will be appreciated, hopefully. She also spends her life trying to help others. She is another giver. She shares her life with others so they may learn from the things she suffers through. She'll always be a mother, and she'll always miss her own.

And I have another friend missing a mother that made all the difference to a young life. One that made certain the right pathways were taken. I'm certain she knows she's missed. I'm certain she's very proud, because I'm certain she's responsible for raising one of the most decent people I've ever come across. Someone who was there for me during recent, painful times. It's hard to find any reason to celebrate when someone we love is gone. Maybe all we can do is congratulate them on how well they lived their life, and how well they did the job they chose to do when they decided to become a mother.

With some of my friends I don't know enough about their stories to know the ones they have about their mothers. I may know them in other ways, but not in that way. So, for those of you who have reason to love a mother, or be loved as one, Happy Mother's Day. For those who have yet to find a reason, I hope you find one, so Happy Future Mother's Day.