I Didn't Want to Celebrate Mother's Day . . .Until I Reclaimed My Story

There was a time when I wished to not celebrate Mother’s Day.

That’s terrible. I know. 😔

Unfortunately, Mother’s Day reminds me of . . .

😪The Mother’s Day I found out that my (then) husband had been having an affair with a woman at work . . .and then left me for her the next day.

😪My deceased great-grandma who brought me home from the hospital and loved me in a way I've hadn't been loved since,

😪And my estranged mother who left me with the lifelong wound of rejection that I have never fully resolved.

“I feel so sorry for your mother,” a podcast host said after I relayed my story of child abuse and emotional neglect a few years ago.

I was shocked. Then, my ego went into overdrive . . .

😤How could someone feel sorry for a woman who had freely spoken about not wanting me, and went so far as to refer to me as an "accident" and a "mistake"?

😠How could someone feel empathy for a woman who had every intention of leaving me at the hospital after I was born, unconcerned of what would become of her first and only child?

🤬And how the Hell could someone feel anything for a woman who allowed her men to verbally, physically, and emotionally abuse me until she finally participated in it in her sole attempt on my life?

But then I remembered a part of the story that hadn’t yet been told . . .

And acknowledging that part made me finally feel a little sorry for my mother, too.

You see, my mother had been abused, too—by an abusive alcoholic narcissist of a father.

She had endured atrocities that made mine look like a trip to Disney World.

And although that doesn’t excuse how she chose to go about parenting me, it does explain the fear and trauma that drove her actions, decisions, and behaviors with regard to me.

At 17, she hadn’t even had a chance to process all that she had survived, before enduring the judgment and shame and rejection of being a pregnant teenager during a time when that wasn’t socially acceptable.

So, she couldn’t be expected to know how to cope with all that, never mind raise a child with that unhealed pain on her own heart.💔

Although my mother has chosen to completely remove herself from my life, I don’t hate her anymore.😲

I don’t forgive everything she said, did, and allowed, either; but I’m at peace knowing that the abuse and the shame and everything I experienced really, truly, had nothing to do with any deficiency in me.

Knowing that I am the only one who can determine my worth now empowers me to choose the trajectory of my life going forward.✨

And every single person faces those choice points in every aspect of their lives, as well.

So, what do you choose?

The pain, grief, and misery of the past?

OR the hope and joy of a brighter future regardless of it?

I’ve made my choice.

And I hope it serves as an example to anyone who has ever felt like they were trapped in sufferance, that anything is possible, once one chooses to believe it and be it.

➡️For more on my personal triumph over childhood abuse, read the full story: CHOKING ON SHAME: THE SCAPEGOAT CHILD IN A NARCISSISTIC FAMILY.

Available on Amazon, Audible, and Kindle, and anywhere books are sold online.

➡️ And when you're ready to begin your own healing journey, TAKE THE QUIZ on my website to determine what areas of your life I can support you in and how.