This post is about motherhood, being estranged from my mother and some other tough and beautiful topics around motherhood. I know this can be a hard day for many as it has been for me in the past and I just want to acknowledge and honor anyone having a hard day for whatever reason, and send my love.
When I gave birth to my daughter my own mother was in prison, I was alone in a new city with no friends or family and feeling so desperately alone. I have been estranged from my mother for almost my daughter’s entire life and it’s been a painful and slow process of learning how to mother myself and my daughter at the same time.
There have been many years that sadness, anger and bitterness have clouded the joy and celebration of being a mother. I wrote a poem a few years back on this day:
Mother(less)
The pain of knowing you’re here
while I grieve your absenceThe betrayal of knowing you’ve chosen
your demons over meThe resentment of numbing your pain
while I feel it allThe anger of your victimhood
while I take responsibilityThe lack of your support
while I struggle and flounderThe search for you
in all the women I meetThe love I remember
before the lights went outThe loneliness of mothering
without a motherThe gratitude of learning
to mother myself
Yesterday I sat with a dear friend who lost her mother when she was young, only six years old and we talked about what it’s like to see the women around us becoming mothers and breaking cycles and doing things differently than they have ever experienced. It’s so hard to break a pattern when we have no reference point (internal or external) for how to behave, respond or react to the challenges we are faced with.
I recalled a story from many years ago when I was at a very low point. My daughter was only a toddler, my stepsons were visiting for the winter break and it was Christmas. My partner was deep in addiction and lost his job and we were dead broke. He was working a new job on Christmas eve and I was alone with the kids. We couldn’t even afford a tree so I went to Home Depot in hope they would be on sale and the guy working gave me one for free. He tied it to my car and sent me and the kids on our way. When I got home and was getting the kids out of the car and into the house to feed them, a kind neighbor saw the tree on my car and showed up to help me get it in the stand. I think that was one of the lowest points I’ve felt in motherhood. Just so alone and still trying to make something special for these kids while barely holding on myself. And yet, there was support in ways I didn’t expect.
Last night I saw a friend on instagram post a few stories on familial estrangement and how there is this inherent shame associated with it. It is taboo to challenge the role of parental authority and we are expected to honor thy mother and father despite any abuse in the relationship. This taboo has kept me silent on this subject in the past. The guilt and shame of “turning my back” on the people who raised me - it feels similar to what I wrote about a few weeks back- having a feeling that I owe more than I actually have to give.
And I wonder why we can easily accept leaving a friendship or partnership with unhealthy patterns and behaviors, but the same rules do not apply when it comes to family. We are supposed to take what we are given and be grateful for it -whether it’s love or betrayal doesn’t matter. But what happens when staying in a relationship feels like a betrayal to YOURSELF? Because they don’t see you, they only see a reflection/ projection of themselves. As if giving birth to or raising someone gives you ownership of that person, of their identity, their life and their decisions. That is not something I am willing to give up to anyone any longer.
But today, I received beautiful acknowledgment and affirmations of love from my partner and daughter and woke up to texts from other mothers in my life. When I took time to write my morning pages, I started off feeling sad for myself, the familiar grief of missing a mother in my life. But as I picked up my phone to send a text to a friend, I thought of all the mothers around me and how much I have truly been mothered in so many ways.
From my therapist, a beloved ex bf’s mom who always treated me like her own, to yoga teachers that taught me to how to tap into to myself, the healers that came and held my pain, to the friends who showed up with food, love, help moving, advice, etc., to countless others in my community that have shared their stories with me in sessions and showed me so much trust and vulnerability, strength and courage.
I may have lacked the mothering I wanted but I have dozens and dozens of mothers in my life that have held space for all the different parts of my journey. Some of them were mothers and many of them were not, some were women, and some were not, but they all hold the supportive, nurturing and caring energy of mother in my life.
Today I hold a little grief but also immense gratitude for the mothering energy that has helped me through my journey.
Sending love to all of you 🌸
Holly, This share and your poem are 🎯 It’s a dad issue for me, but your message is still poignant. Thank you for saying what so many of us feel … but haven’t found our own words. Thank YOU!!
Thank you Beth. Tbh I’m never sure if my words will resonate so your feedback helps so much. It’s comforting to know you share the same sentiments. Thanks for reading 💗💗