I had a similar childhood and suffered through holidays of every kind. Then I got into therapy, joined a 12-step group. Every year things started to get better. I took child rearing classes and read everything I could trying not to ruin my kids.
You said your kids are wonderful. They didn’t get that way in a vacuum
Give yourself and your kids a great gift. Deal with your issues so you can all have a great Mother’s Day
The disappearance and cruelties of my mother and her substitute also make Mother’s Day a crap show for me. I didn’t participate in the public activities, and I did throw myself into a big physical chore. It does help to work off the anger. But, I stopped after a couple hours, took a couple aspirin because I knew I’d be sore. Bought myself some dinner and relaxed for the rest of the day. The thing I finally found gratitude for was that they weren’t able to make me in their own horrific images. My sisters are psychologically carbon copies of them, to the point of repeating their verbal abuses, word for word, even the tonality. Had to move on from all of them, escape the hate.
Teri - came back and read this again this morning. Thought about your finding gratitude in being able to keep your mother and stepmother from making you in "their horrific images." There is intelligence and strength in that. I can appreciate the fortitude it takes to stand up to group bullying. Thanks so much for sharing this and lending yourself to this other force — showing us the exit and release.
Thank you for reminding me of this poem I love so much. “Escaping the hate.” You’ve given me purpose for the day. Take care Teri. Glad you chose the road not taken (another fav poem).
Thank you for being with me on mothers day, Hannah. Your "don't care" was actually quite therapeutic. Permission to not care can be just what is needed, and in my case, for sure. You are dialed in,.
You deserve more than an emoji. Sorry, but some days I feel too much to express myself.
Before I could talk, I learned how to measure the explosion that was coming. I have a very clear memory of sitting in my high chair unable to get out of the way.
When I was seven, I stopped speaking for a year or so. No one took me to the doctor or asked me questions. I literally couldn't make words come out of my mouth.
If it makes you feel any better, I was absolutely elated the Mother’s Day after my mother died because I didn’t have to buy her a card or stand on ceremony any more. I was relieved. I understand.
But don’t judge yourself, your mothering. You did your best and they know they’re loved. Believe me, that counts.
Never responded to this, but it moved me tremendously. I thought long and hard about not having to "stand on ceremony any more." I decided to do the same, though my stepmother is still alive. I'm not going to do it anymore and am canceling my visit to see her on my upcoming trip to Michigan. I never want to consider what she thinks of me again. Whatever days I have left in this world — I want them to be free of her. Thank you for that, Louise.
Scott - only now getting back to folks after my mothers day meltdown. Thank you for aching on my behalf. It meant a lot to me, though I am sorry to have made you hurt.
Your kids are “wonderful in every way”? Sounds like they had a good mother.
Thanks Jay 😘
I had a similar childhood and suffered through holidays of every kind. Then I got into therapy, joined a 12-step group. Every year things started to get better. I took child rearing classes and read everything I could trying not to ruin my kids.
You said your kids are wonderful. They didn’t get that way in a vacuum
Give yourself and your kids a great gift. Deal with your issues so you can all have a great Mother’s Day
Thank you Patricia.
Yikes. Sometimes I'm not very proud to be a man, or even a human being....
The disappearance and cruelties of my mother and her substitute also make Mother’s Day a crap show for me. I didn’t participate in the public activities, and I did throw myself into a big physical chore. It does help to work off the anger. But, I stopped after a couple hours, took a couple aspirin because I knew I’d be sore. Bought myself some dinner and relaxed for the rest of the day. The thing I finally found gratitude for was that they weren’t able to make me in their own horrific images. My sisters are psychologically carbon copies of them, to the point of repeating their verbal abuses, word for word, even the tonality. Had to move on from all of them, escape the hate.
I keep this on the fridge:
The Journey by Mary Oliver
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.
Teri - came back and read this again this morning. Thought about your finding gratitude in being able to keep your mother and stepmother from making you in "their horrific images." There is intelligence and strength in that. I can appreciate the fortitude it takes to stand up to group bullying. Thanks so much for sharing this and lending yourself to this other force — showing us the exit and release.
🙏
Thank you for reminding me of this poem I love so much. “Escaping the hate.” You’ve given me purpose for the day. Take care Teri. Glad you chose the road not taken (another fav poem).
😭🫶🏻
I don't even remember what year my mother died. Don't care.
I am sorry that you still feel it. 🫂
Thank you for being with me on mothers day, Hannah. Your "don't care" was actually quite therapeutic. Permission to not care can be just what is needed, and in my case, for sure. You are dialed in,.
You deserve more than an emoji. Sorry, but some days I feel too much to express myself.
Before I could talk, I learned how to measure the explosion that was coming. I have a very clear memory of sitting in my high chair unable to get out of the way.
When I was seven, I stopped speaking for a year or so. No one took me to the doctor or asked me questions. I literally couldn't make words come out of my mouth.
And I was the favorite and the least favorite.
So yeah, fuck them.
If that helped in a small way, it's your victory.
❤️
If it makes you feel any better, I was absolutely elated the Mother’s Day after my mother died because I didn’t have to buy her a card or stand on ceremony any more. I was relieved. I understand.
But don’t judge yourself, your mothering. You did your best and they know they’re loved. Believe me, that counts.
Never responded to this, but it moved me tremendously. I thought long and hard about not having to "stand on ceremony any more." I decided to do the same, though my stepmother is still alive. I'm not going to do it anymore and am canceling my visit to see her on my upcoming trip to Michigan. I never want to consider what she thinks of me again. Whatever days I have left in this world — I want them to be free of her. Thank you for that, Louise.
Hugs, keep breathing, keep writing. Love you, friend ❤️
🫂
My heart aches. May you find some peace.
Scott - only now getting back to folks after my mothers day meltdown. Thank you for aching on my behalf. It meant a lot to me, though I am sorry to have made you hurt.