Dear happy celebrators of Mother’s Day

Dear happy celebrators of Mother’s Day:

I am super-glad that Mother’s Day is a happy day for you.

That’s awesome. It should be a happy day for everyone.

Sadly, though, for me it’s not.

It’s taken me a long time to be able to say that, to sort of own that my mother is someone I’ve actually had to—and will, alas, always have to—get over. To heal from.

My mother wasn’t a healthy person.

And being raised by her was not a healthy experience.

But that’s okay. The world’s a healing place if you let it be. I’ve known a lot of great people who’ve done a lot to move me away from the unhealthy mindset and self-condemning inner spirit bequeathed to me by my mother—people who showed and taught me the joy to be found in the final realization that ultimately my life must, will, and should belong to me, and me alone.

Independence Day I love.

But Mother’s Day? Maybe not so much.

If they ever have a day called, “Survived a Dysfunctional Mother,” call me! I’ll be there with bows on my toes.

In the meantime I’ll be spending this Mother’s Day in my usual fashion: at home, curled up on my couch, reading a good book or watching a movie. I won’t be sad.

Okay, I might be a little sad. But I won’t be trying to pretend to be someone I’m not, who enjoyed a wonderful childhood I never did. I’ll be being authentic to who I really am.

And every day I spend doing that is a great day.

Give your good, loving mother a kiss and a hug for me, won’t you? Would that there were more like her in the world.

See also The Mother We Never Had.