Why I Have a Complicated Relationship with Mother's Day

Mother’s Day evokes an array of emotions within me. I don’t think about it nearly as much as I used to. (Well, I’m thinking about it right now!) However, in the past, the week leading up to Mother’s Day would’ve had me in a tizzy! This year it didn't cripple me.

But it made me "kinda" crazy.. so I suppose it was another normal day.

Dredging up the past never makes me feel good. (Hence the mess of emotions.) As much as I try to live in the present, holidays tend to be a portal straight to the past.

I remember sitting in church, watching women and their daughters on Mother’s Day Sunday. (I always sat in the back - as far back as I could go!) Some years I was heartbroken, and other years I was angry! I have felt jealous & other times I just feel uncomfortable.

This year I felt a dull ache on top of my regular insanity.

There were a few years that I bought my dad a Mother’s Day card to say thanks for being both mom and dad for me. (He thought that was weird!)

My mother was murdered when I was 19 years old. She was in the process of divorcing her husband at the time. From what I understand he wanted their two dogs and the money in her 401(k). She was not willing to part with any of it. So, being as stubborn as she was, she stayed in their home sleeping in the guest bedroom. He came home one night after working at the bar and beat her to death. I hate knowing she died for two pit bulls and 20 grand. (She was willing to die for a small amount of money and two dogs, but she wasn't willing to stay and live for her child!) Life is so much more valuable to me than dogs and money. Her death certificate says, “Cause of death: blunt force trauma to the head and neck.” Those words “blunt force trauma to the head and neck” replayed in my mind for years after she passed. No matter how high I would get, I could not smoke those words out of my mind.

I spent nearly a decade bitter and angry at my mother. I forgave her murderer long before I forgave her. It felt as though he’d damaged me less than she had. She made the choices that led to her demise. She chose to leave me. I have vivid memories of my early teen years sitting on the corner counter in the kitchen while my dad cooked supper. I would sob on and on about my mom. I remember saying at one point, "I wish she was just dead. At least if she was dead I would know that she could not have anything to do with me. Knowing that she is alive and chooses not to be a part of my life is killing me!"

My mom abandoned me just after my 13th birthday. She moved away with her murderer after some odd amount of months of dating. She left her career of 16 years, her home of 7 years, and her 13-year-old daughter. All to run off with some fling.

Their wedding was an excellent representation of what their marriage would be. They were married at a local park. I remember her cheap dress and sparkly foam platform sandals. Her family gathered around her rolling their eyes. Someone remarked that they would see her at the next wedding. It was a hot Midwest June day. There were homeless people on benches & junkies smoking weed. We all stood next to a filthy foam-filled lake with dead fish washing onto the shore. Classy. After her wedding, she moved away. My father received emancipation paperwork soon after. She didn’t want to be obligated to pay child support. After my dad died I read some nasty letters in regards to the situation.

Mother’s Day has the ability to tear open the traumatic wound inside of me. But, I have developed a weird sense of calm about it. I don’t think too deeply about it unless I am writing like this. This year will be the 15th anniversary of my mother‘s death. She moved away six years before her murder. It blows my mind that I have been without a mother for the past 21 years. How I am old enough to have memories from 21 years ago, is beyond me. Time seems to pass at a painfully high rate.

Approximately 3 1/2 years after my mother was murdered I experienced my first Mother’s Day. My daughter was 4 1/2 months old. I don’t have vivid memories of that Mother’s Day, but I remember it being extremely uncomfortable. There were far too many people who thought it was appropriate to tell me that now I get to celebrate Mother’s Day again. Celebrating Mother’s Day has never been something that I’ve ever wanted to do. My mother wasn't someone to celebrate. I was a single mother for the first three years of my oldest daughter’s life. So, unless I wanted to buy myself a Mother’s Day card, it was not a day that I was celebrated. Just another day.

A year after marrying my husband, we had a baby. Just before my oldest daughter‘s fourth birthday, he adopted her. My husband usually buys me a card and flowers. I am grateful for this gesture of his appreciation. I am grateful to be the mother of his children. But I have a bitterness that lingers.

This year on Mother’s Day, my 11-year-old and I volunteered at our church. I came home after church while my husband took the kiddos to visit my mother-in-law. She had told me she would like it if I joined them for the visit. Part of me was glad she even wanted me there. The other part of me was annoyed that my needs tend to get ignored. I do my best not to be resentful and show my respect. I was grateful when my husband gifted me the afternoon to rest. He acknowledged that I slave away daily without reprieve. Every single day of my life is spent caring for my children from sun up to sun down. I love my children dearly. But I find myself pouring from an empty cup too often. I wake up most mornings at the crack of dawn. (I have a kitchen towel that was gifted to me that says, "There should be an energy drink called 5 AM toddler!" SHEW… Is that ever true!) My schedule is usually fairly similar .. jump out of bed full steam ahead! A couple of years ago I was able to start my day by getting up and washing my face and taking care of myself before my 2 children. I remember thinking, wow this is nice! That is no longer true for me with an 18-month-old. My seven-year-old is non-weight-bearing and wheelchair-bound. Putting myself first is rarely an option. I praise God through it all. As I put my daughter on her commode, PRAISE GOD FOR HER LIFE!

On we go ... The baby wakes up & the dog needs to go out. It is the same, tedious work day in and day out. But there's always always always something to be grateful for! There is constant noise & constant asking for my attention. So - I have to make it a point to PAUSE AND PRAISE God for these little lives - even in the insanity. I get so worn out. Sometimes it's hard for me to ACT grateful. But, I wouldn't want it any other way. I love my life. Being a mom is hard work. Sometimes I have to sit and cry. So - after serving at church for five hours on Mother's Day morning, I went home to a quiet house. It was exactly what I needed.

My mother-in-law said she wanted me to be there because she feels like my mother. I know that was supposed to be a loving statement. But I have to chuckle because no one truly has any idea what it would be like to be my mother. There is not anyone actively involved in my life who knew me when I had a mom. No one knows what my mother was like. All they know is the aftermath of her abuse. They know me as this mess of a person. I am not really close to anyone. As a defense mechanism, I keep people at a distance. I guess you could say I have “mommy issues.” Over the years, as people have heard my story, I usually get some sort of pitiful look or an “Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, I’ll be your mom!”

I do not doubt that everyone who has ever said this to me truly meant well. Or they’ve said this out of the kindness of their hearts. Quite frankly, I am sure no one knows how to respond to such a story. I might not know what to say either if someone told me that their stepdad murdered their mother. But in the past 15 years, not one person has stuck around to be a mom to me. (And that’s okay! I’ve been told I’m "hard to love.") I push people away, I avoid them, & I don’t leave the house if I don’t have to. Most people hear something traumatic and want to help but don’t want to be in it (or can't) for the long haul. Recovering from a childhood of abuse isn't something for the faint of heart. Being a mother is a huge responsibility. Being motherly to a person with a life full of traumatic insanity would be one heck of a dedication. So - I find it’s easier for me to just keep people at a distance. I want to say it helps me avoid heartache, but it’s just a different type of heartache. Living through what I have gone through hurts. And it has made me a little crazy. There have been a few people who have pushed through my barriers and demanded that I let them love me. That's usually how it has to go. I'm the queen of building walls.

Trump could've hired me to build the borders in a day! (Laugh, I have jokes!)

I fear that my inability to make deep meaningful relationships with the women around me will prohibit my girls from having lasting ties to me as they become adults. Don't get me wrong, I have meaningful relationships with people. But most of my connections are pretty superficial. I believe that the best relationships consist of time spent together. Quality time is something that my friendships lack. I have a couple of really good friends that I know I could count on for anything but I don't spend much time with people. I find the idea of hosting events to be nauseating. But I still desire community.

I am afraid to have those types of distant relationships with my kids. My husband and I can be selfish people. We lack loving patience some days. At times we can have bad attitudes when it comes to parenting. In turn, our children can have bad attitudes as well.

But I hope that they always want to come home. Hopefully, my grumpy attitude throughout their childhoods won't keep them from desiring more time with me as adults. My children don't have good solid close family relationships modeled to them. My dad and I were very close. Best friends to be exact! But he died when my girls had just turned 6 & the oldest was almost 10. I just doubt they’ll have a great memory of him as they age. My oldest may have a better memory of the way she felt around him since they were also good buddies. But my youngest, I doubt she will remember him at all. My extended family has no relationship at all with me in either direction. I have an aunt that lives a state away. I talk to her via text message occasionally. But family gatherings have never been a thing with my mother's family. My dad's family has always been extremely dysfunctional and I no longer have connections with any of them. My husband's family lives all over the US and only gets together for Christmas. He doesn't ever just pick up the phone and call his siblings. I don't have any siblings. I pray that my daughters are blessed with lifelong friendships with each other. As an only child who feels pretty lonely at times, I feel like I'm constantly preaching to them about how they need to love each other. Someday they are only going to have each other. They are built-in besties. (I hope!) I'm grateful that our church family has modeled what loving families should look like. Recently I was speaking with one of our pastors who has four children. He was talking about the closeness of his family. I so badly want that for my kids. I pray that we can develop our own traditions as time passes and that my kids will want to come home for the holidays. (OR MORE!)

That's why for Mother's Day I thought it was so important for me to take some time to “refresh my soul.” (Our current sermon series at church talks about refreshing your soul!)

I have to make time for myself! There is so much to do around the house as a mom. I get so caught up in housework that I struggle to slow down and ENJOY my children. It’s like I don’t know how to JUST BE with them. I hate it. I feel as though it will be one of my biggest regrets in life. I end nearly every day with “mom guilt.”

People often say things like, “Enjoy those babies they grow up fast!”

I get tired. So tired. I have these unreasonably high expectations for myself. Like - the house must be in order, dishes must be done, the kitchen must be clean, or I can’t go on happy. There’s ALWAYS something to do. Some days I’m ahead of the game and other days I have heaping piles of crap everywhere and I can’t stay on top of the messes. My body aches and I YELL for help. No one actually wants to help and they’ll all go sit knowing I’ll do it eventually and the house is a wreck.  Sigh.  I’m just tired. So - I yell. Then I hate myself for how I treat my family. It's a vicious cycle that I would love to break. (COME JESUS!)

Be gracious to me, O Lord, For to You I cry all day long. Psalm 86:3

My oldest daughter is my biggest helper. I love and appreciate her, but I struggle to show her my love. I compare her to me at that age too much. I have to be careful because I get sucked into a vortex of pain that she has no part in. She doesn't understand that when I struggle, it's because of where I came from, not her. She is so much better of a person than I ever was. She is so smart & has a lot of passion for God in her. (It’s beautiful!) Her Jesus passion is so strong. She wants to be a missionary and/or an evangelist. I think this is so wonderful. I encourage her to follow the Holy Spirit’s guidance. When I was 11, I had a very small world. I didn’t think about what I could offer the world. I was raised to be a taker. Not a giver. My world was full of takers. No one ever read the Bible to me. No one talked about God with me. I didn't go to church until just before my mother ran off. She took me to the church that I am now actively involved in. That is one seed that I am glad that she planted. I'm not sure why or how we ended up going to church. She had a friend that was attending and we went with her. I am thankful for this exposure to our church. Praise God because that little pebble on the path helped me to get to where I am today.

I’m grateful my kids aren’t like me. They don’t know half the craziness I grew up with. The only exposure to the nonsense is through me. My current state of crazy is their only understanding. They probably just think I’m a jerk. (Boy can I ever be a jerk!) But I'm not who I used to be and God continues to mold and shape me to be more of who I am in Christ.

I have strived for years now to break the cycle of dysfunction. Others around me say that they believe I have broken the cycle. But I still feel dysfunctional. From the outside looking in, my family and I look fairly typical. I'd say we do live a pretty "normal" lifestyle. The life I live today would have bored me to death 15 years ago. When the people we meet learn about where we've been and what we've been through they are often shocked. Which is great! What a testimony to the power of God! I know that I am not what has happened to me. Where I've been is not where I'm going. What I have gone through is not who I am. There is no good excuse for bad behavior. Whether I am tormented mentally or not the greatest of all commands is to love God and love others.

I love my God and I love my family.

I am not my mother. But I have a mom-shaped wound that has festered for years. If I don't think about it, it doesn't bother me. I don't know if it is even supposed to heal. It's just there. As I was greeting the women I encountered at church this Mother's Day Sunday I was able to smile and say Happy Mother's Day and truly mean it. I don't feel sad about my situation anymore. I can't say that I feel overly happy about it though either. "It is what it is." I've grown callus to feelings and situations that others are bothered by. I tend not to cry at funerals anymore. I had to go off of the antidepressants that I've been on for years to be able to FEEL life happening. It's fascinating how the brain works. While I am numb to some trauma and lack compassion at times I can still be empathetic. This year I attempted to push away from thoughts of my mother and the hell she caused me. I focused on what I do have.

I felt grateful for my husband and his willingness to care for the kids so that I could have a day. I felt grateful for the women that I have encountered over the years that have shown me love and taught me how to be a mom. I did not feel sorry for myself.

I did not miss my mother on Mother's Day. And that's ok. I feel grateful for my children.

In recovery, they taught me to "play the tape through." It allows me to put things into perspective. I would like to think that if my mother were alive, I would have a loving connection with her. But in all reality, based on the 19 years of my life that she was living, I don't believe that would be the case. I have observed the relationships within her family. I can see the distance. I doubt that the type of relationship that I would like to have with my mother would even be achievable. I have never wished to go back in time. I would never want to speak to my mother as the child I once was. However, if I could have an adult conversation with her, I might take it. Who I am today is a lot stronger than the kid she used to bully. My mom wasn’t a good mom. However, I think it is important to remember that not everyone is all good or bad. I don't remember my mother as being a "good person." However, many who knew her have fond memories of her. I think there is some good in (some) bad people. I think that there is some really ugly stuff in some people that seem to be good too. After all, we are only human here. Because of who my parents were and how I grew up, I tend to think that everyone is bad. That is until they show me that they have good in them. Lately, I have been trying to remember fond memories of my mother. Until recently I've only been able to recall her ugliness. My brain in recent years has shown me snippets of her good. The pain she caused me is the only picture of who she was that I could paint for my kids. I couldn't think of good stories to tell them. My kids don’t know what she looked like. They've seen a photo here and there but I don't keep pictures out. When I get a photo out, my youngest still doesn't recognize her. They don’t ask questions about her. Occasionally they want to know things about my childhood. I try to tell them the good things and keep it PG. It can be hard for me to talk about my childhood with them because it lacks love. I don’t want them to know that pain.

The crazy thing is, I don't want someone else to be my mom. I don't need to be mothered. I’ve wanted it at times. I have found myself jealous at times when hearing about moms who visit their daughter's houses to HELP. (Lord knows I’ve needed help!) But I push through on my own. Having help with the kids so I can shower would be cool someday. But I find time here and there. Help folding the laundry would be nice. (Giggles) But it all works out eventually.

Last month we were blessed by a family from our church who said, 

“Hey, we are going to come over and hang out with your kids so that you can go out on a date!” (PRAISE JESUS!) My husband and I went out & sat quietly while we eavesdropped on the couple next to us. From what we could hear they were divorcees that both had children and dogs. They spoke about having to drop their children off with their exes. From the sounds of it, the woman even shared her dog with her ex! (Ew, stop it!) I told my husband that we are definitely never separating because dating sounds exhausting! She was probably 40 and giggling like a schoolgirl while talking about boring adult things! Ho-hum! After a couple of hours away with our conversation as deep as comparing our aching back muscles, we came home. It was good for us to get out for a bit. 

God provides the family that we need. Right when we need it. A lot of times the family is there and I just need to utilize it. We have had a lot of people try to love us over the years. But I am so good at building barriers. People suck & they hurt you. So I keep them away. But that is not God's design. So I have been trying to open myself more to others. A couple of years ago I joined a women's group at my church. They have opened their hearts to me. There are grandmas, aunts, motherly figures, and sisters in Christ who I adore. I don't mind when the women say they want to be grandmas to my children, I love that for them. But I have a barrier around my heart.

Mother's Day was just another day. We Earthlings put a lot of emphasis on worldly holidays. Most of them are silly. "Greeting card holidays" aren't my thing. Consumerism be damned.

If being around your family and friends gives you life, be with them!

If you're a Stay at home momma constantly sacrificing for your family, rest. But whatever you do, find joy in doing it! Go hug your mom if you can. You only get one momma, when she's gone, that's it. I don't miss who my mom was when she was here on Earth but I'd take a hug from her today. I will never know what it would be like to have a mom as an adult. I've come to terms with it. But your parents should be the people that you can hug for a long time and it never gets awkward. Cherish that.

Last week a friend sent me a podcast "Mental Health for Christian Women" by Michelle Croyle. In the Podcast, she was listing "8 signs that your trauma wounds still need healing." She asked the question, “What happened to you? Does that mark still burn or is it a memory of having been burned?” That made me think. Hmmm… Maybe my mom’s murder still hurts sometimes? Or maybe it's all the other trauma in life that is now overlapping.

Michelle’s list:

1. Avoidance

2. Anger

3. Severe Reactions

4. Minimizing & Dismissal

5. Nervous System sensations

6. Dissociating

7. Nightmares

8. Fear

‭‭”Trauma means wound” Perhaps I avoid relationships with women who have the potential to be motherly towards me because I fear it will open my wound...? Or cause a new wound? Needless to say, I have some work to do! (Always learning!)

I must press on, forget what is behind and look to the future.

Jesus is the source of my peace and joy, not my external circumstances.

Philippians‬ ‭3‬:‭8‬, ‭10‬, ‭13‬-‭14‬, ‭20‬-‭21‬ :

“8) Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have discarded everything else, counting it all as garbage, so that I could gain Christ

10) I want to know Christ and experience the mighty power that raised him from the dead. I want to suffer with him, sharing in his death 

13) ….. Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, 14) I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us.

20)...we are citizens of heaven, where the Lord Jesus Christ lives. And we are eagerly waiting for him to return as our Savior.  21) He will take our weak mortal bodies and change them into glorious bodies like his own, using the same power with which he will bring everything under his control.”

‭‭

I haven't been well lately. Not mentally or physically. My body feels weak. I've had some struggles with whacky cycles and hormones. Growing up no one told me about what periods would do to my mind and body. (That's a job for your mom!) So, I can only do for my girls what my mom never did for me. I am here. I am an open book. I am staying by their sides through all the crazy. I am going to love them when they feel unlovable. I'll apologize when necessary & I pray for/with them daily.

All I can do is try my best at adapting to my ever changing circumstances. Change is inevitable. Adapting is easier when I stay in the word of God. Otherwise, I am only capable of reacting to the changes with my self-will. Left to my own devices, I would live a life without peace or joy. Without God, I am a miserable human. So - Godspeed ahead! 🙏🏼

Thank you for taking the time to read my mess.

It is my hope that through my mess you can see that you're not alone, God heals, and this too shall pass. Trauma comes in waves and we cycle through it. New wounds might disturb the old. But we press on with God at the forefront. Let's persevere! I pray that you know that even in the ugliest moments, GOD LOVES YOU!

"The LORD make His face shine upon you and be gracious to you" (Numbers 6:25)

There's always room to grow.

🙏🏼 -Kelsey

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Thank you for reading. 🙏🏼

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