A Not So Happy Mother’s Day
I am not big on holiday celebrations. In fact, I gave holiday celebrations up an immensely long time ago. The decision to forgo celebrating holidays has saved me from a lot of stress and money headaches. Except for birthday’s I rarely acknowledge other celebrations unless I feel there is a reason for doing so. As a child, I consistently felt anxiety about the holidays, but no holiday was more anxiety-driven for me than Mother’s Day.
For much of my life, Mother’s Day has never been a good holiday for me to celebrate. I have always wondered why I was less anxious about Father’s Day in comparison, considering that I felt that both my parents were less than savory when it came to connecting with me. Yet, I surmise that the days of celebration are different because my dad never seems to care as much about holiday acknowledgments and my relationship with him is not as contentious either.
Mother’s Day is a not so happy day for me, but I do try to put myself in my mother’s shoes. That is the problem. I care. I always care. I seriously doubt that my mother cares. She only looks at what I am doing to her. She is a malignant covert narcissist. I would dare to label her with other disorders, but her narcissistic personality far outshines anything else I can think of at the moment.
When I try to put myself in my mother’s shoes, I think about how it might feel for her not to be connected at all to her daughter. I [the daughter] have gone no contact, and it has been for some years. She actually keeps track of the years. She claims to others that I have neglected to be present in her life. She lets everyone know. I have always known this second-handedly through social media messages from others. My absence in my mother’s life brings her sympathy from others. I am viewed as the “bad” child. She is viewed as the “good” mother.
When every Mother’s Day rolls around, and I do not present myself to her, that is another year she receives excessive amounts of sympathy. That is another year she is able to build up her smear campaign against me. That is another year that I spend not attending to my social media. Even now, my inbox is flooded with messages from opinionated relatives, judgmental “friends”, and any nosey associate who thinks they know some part of my life story regarding my mother.
Each Mother’s Day that rolls around is a not so happy Mother’s Day. I am not a mother either.
Each Mother’s Day Is Always The Same
Each Mother’s Day is always the same for me. I do not necessarily struggle unless I sit to ponder about what might have been if my mother was not a narcissist. I do my best to stay off of social media. I do not read the sentimental posts about mothers. I do not venture outside of my personal “box”. I do not connect with others on this day. I choose not to celebrate. I choose not to deepen my own agony about it.
Most people would say (or have even said), “At least you have a mother.” “You should be grateful.” “Not everyone has a mother.” “Your mother won’t be around forever.” “You’ll regret not trying to relate to her when she’s gone.” “You shouldn’t mistreat your mother.” “Talk to your mother.” “She’s your mother!” “You only get one mother.”
I have heard it all, and at this point in my life I am not moved because I know the truth. I have experienced the truth. I know my mother is a narcissist, and I know how she operates. I do not hate her. I love her dearly, but I also love her enough to walk away from narcissistic abuse. I have settled within myself [for years] that she is never going to change. She does not see a reason for change. She is who she is, and I have accepted this fact. I choose to love from a distance and no longer express it.
From what I have learned through experience, I know that love does not change a narcissist. Love only means narcissistic supply to a narcissist. My outward display of love to my mother would only encourage her to continue her abuse against me and play me for the fool. I do not want any parts of that. That is not a condition of life that I want for myself any longer. So I have chosen to remain in a state of no-contact with her. I think it is simply for the best. I have peace of mind even if it still pains me not to have a connection because she is still my mother.
No-contact does not necessarily make me comfortable. In fact, I grow ever more anxious during most holidays but especially the day meant to celebrate mothers. I grow ever more bothered by the expectations on this day. There are expectations from others that I should be the bigger person and simply give in to my mother. I just cannot bring myself to do this though. I think I am being the bigger person by keeping myself safe and narcissist free. This is always hard for others to understand about me, but I have learned to be okay with it.
I still grow anxious on this day [and other celebratory days like it] simply because I have grown into an adult who does not know what it is like to sincerely connect with my mother. Since I was a child, I spent much time browsing through Mother’s Day cards to find just the right sentimental message to express my feelings about her. There were very few cards that ever expressed my heart or described her as a mother. I simply could not find the true accolades to give my mother when “mothering” seemed to be so distant a description of her for me even though my siblings would not say the same.
I never truly connected with my mother when I was a child. There was never a cohesive bond with her. Her love for me felt like a cold stone wall. I never realized until years later that one simply does not connect with a narcissist. Narcissists lack emotional empathy. My mother lacked the ability to bond with me. She was always so distant.
Her affections towards me always seemed so forced with me. I always knew instinctively from the time I was old enough to comprehend that she truly did not care for me. I could see it in her eyes. Her eyes always appeared glazed over. She was going through the motions with me and seemed so robotic as a mother. I had no choice but to play along with her for the sake of presentation, but it was all an act. It was all for show. Nevertheless, I learned to accept that this was just how my mother was and would always be.
I wish I could celebrate my mother, but the circumstances do not permit that. I do not want to go through the motions. I do not want to be a part of the act. So I choose to keep my distance. I am safer that way. I am free from her narcissistic abuse. I settle for being the prodigal daughter that will not return for her feasts. I do not celebrate Mother’s Day. I am not a mother, and mother is a narcissist.
My Voice Unchained 