So Mother’s day. A day where you show how you appreciate your mom. A day to celebrate being a mom.
I hate mother’s day. I actively ignored it as much as possible. I figured out of sight out of mind. But I have so many friends that are mothers and I wanted to celebrate them. So I sent out the texts and love but as I did it I started into that downward spiral I’m so good at jumping into.
I just. Hate that my mom isn’t a mother. That she decided in her head that I wasn’t worth it. Even after everything I did to take care of her when Don died. Even after I spent my life until I was fucking 27 taking care of her and making sure I did my part. It’s like I was hired help that never got paid. Kind of like my entire childhood. Womp womp woah is me. But I still want my mom. The mom who loves me and wants to be a part of my life. So yesterday I had some lovely PTSD memories. But I am tired of them. So I let them consume me for a little while and then just kind of went numb. Progress?
I’m not a mom. I will not BE a mom. And that is just how life worked out. And I’m ok with that. I wouldn’t be the mother I always dreamed I would be because of my mental health. But it fucking sucks. Sorry but it does. It isn’t fair and that makes me so mad.
It makes me think what the point of life is. I’m not saying I want to die or anything like that. I just don’t understand how limited we are. By circumstances outside of ourselves we live these lives that are nothing like we originally planned and we have to adapt to whatever gets thrown our way. I am going off on a tangent I apologize. I’m just not myself right now.
I guess what I’m trying to say is life hit me hard when I was in my twenties and I lost the opportunity to have a child of my own. It was taken away from me and I will never remember why it happened the way it did. I’ve accepted it and that’s as far as I’m willing to go. Huh. In DBT they talk about radical acceptance. I think I just hit it. That is a new feeling. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like. I just realized that as much as I wish I could go back in time and do what I wanted to do, it just wasn’t meant to be. And that’s ok. Because it has to be. It can’t be changed. But I can forgive MYSELF. Radical.
All this to say I wish I could crawl in a hole and hide every year for mother’s day. Just to pretend it wasn’t happening.