(edit 5-27-16, have been granted permission to link the sermon, and have done so below.)
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I am not a big fan of mother's day. Being a mother my self doesn't change this.
The pain is too deep.
real deep.
like, cut my throat deep...
choking for breath as the water fills my lungs deep.
This year even worse with the dementia's complete erasure of me from my mothers mind.
I am still reeling from it happening just a month ago. I had not stopped to process it, because well, it is too overwhelming to even look at it as a whole.
When Richard first opened the subject of my mother with me in therapy. He spent the hour watching me cry uncontrollably. Unable to speak. That is a deep well of pain... multiple bullets to my brain kind of pain...
Richard was working his butt off trying to save my life. He knew he had to take my hate and rage and pain and change it. He knew in order for me to heal I needed to solve the issue with my mother. It took time and a lot of screaming and tears but he got me to set down my fists and stop hating her. Forgive her? Not possible. The goal to just stop reflecting back to her the hate she directed at me. When he thought I was ready he asked me to open dialogue with her.
The fear welled up so fast I disappeared under its surface without a single ripple giving me away. The blood spewed from the wound on my arm like a fountain.
Talk to her?
I am afraid of her. I have been afraid of her for a very long time. Long, long time.
He asked if I would be able to talk to her if she came to a therapy session, and he was there to support me. He even called her and spoke to her, inviting her himself. She said no. My life wasn't worth her time.
That was as far as we got in therapy, for me to put down the hate.
There will always be a part of me who desperately wants the loving fairy tale mother. That is the part of me who grieves endlessly knowing...she doesn't exist.
Mother's day became a double edged sword as I grew up.
My mother cruelly told me when I was young that I would never have children.
I grew up believing this lie.
Bitter when those around me had babies. Each year passing amplifying the knowledge that I would never be a mama. Arms aching, soul withering sadness.
Each mothers day a poke with a sharp stick in my eye.
Not only does your mama hate you, you will never be a mama
never ever.
Thankfully my husband didn't believe that lie and we had two children.
So I celebrate and embrace this day now?
Like I said...
I am not a big fan of mother's day.
I've been a mother since 2002. I still cringe and politely dodge all the "Happy Mother's day!" greetings even now.
My past taints me from being able to get past this day. It's a cacophony of pain.
Now wrapped up in the mix are my own trials and failures as a mother. I hold my self to a high standard, wanting to be the best mother I can be to my children. To do better then my own mother. No matter how hard I try I can't be the mother I want to be.
I worked the night before mothers day this year and had to endure all the residents and staff and family members I can across cheerfully telling me "Happy Mothers Day!!"
I smiled politely....painfully polite. Each greeting a giant horse bite to my hide, leaving my soul bruised.
I came home and was feeling so defeated I went to bed and pulled the cover over my head. I had planned to go to church with husband, but. just. could. not. face. one. more. "Happy Mothers Day!!" cheerfully directed at me.
We have been attending a new church and I have fallen in love with it. They record the sermons and I knew I could listen to it later.
Husband come home raving about how funny the sermon was and he couldn't wait for me to hear it.
I finally had time to listen to it. (C) May 8, 2016 Honoring Our Mothers - All rights reserved by Pastor Dale and Bear Creek Church, Medford Or., Used here with kind permission.
Between the funny moments was a very, very triggering sermon. Powerful and triggering because the pastor didn't gloss over the realities, he wove a very real picture for mothers....for women. He acknowledged the reality. He addressed the wounded child in me who wants and needed a mother. He acknowledged that mothers day can be painful to many women for a myriad of reasons. He addressed the mother in me who struggles to be the unrealistic super mom. He validated me as a woman.
It was amazing to hear him say that he understood that mother's day wasn't a happy day for all of us. That some of us were raised by mothers who had their own issues.
Hearing the pastors gentle suggestion on what direction to go on the topic was a distant echo from the past. Watering of the seed Richard worked so hard to plant in me so long ago. I think its going to take root this time.
Pastor's sermon had me crying. His words "saw" me. This wasn't a "honor your mother no matter what lecture" It was a gloves off raw talk that was incredibly healing to hear. My tears were not the usual bitter-angry tears, they were tears of release and change.
...and of healing.
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