Back to Mother's Day
This sounds terribly pessimistic and whiny, but I am learning to hate Mother's Day. There are two main reasons for this.
1. Each year since my mother's death, the assault of advertisements, commercials, and signs all over the place about Mother's Day just reminds me more poignantly that she is not here. What's worse, it happens right around the time of her death. I've cried a lot this weekend... Yesterday, I couldn't get myself together as I spoke to my aunt about being too exhausted to drive up to Frankenmuth on Sunday. I sat in the parking lot at Subway, unable to stop the choked sobs, too embarrassed to go in and join Keith and Ben for lunch. I eventually texted Keith to tell him I was out there. He came out to meet me, and I just went home. They came home shortly after. I took a nap on the bed, curled into the fetal position, and ate my sub later when I woke up. I have found this year that I have less control of the emotional instability associated with the grieving process. Sprintime brings all these memories... Everything is bittersweet. I have always loved spring for many reasons... But now, I seem to be simultaneously elated that the sun is shining and assaulted with the memory of moving my mom from her home to the hospice facility. Or, flowers coming up remind me of cleaning out her flower beds while she slept in the hospital bed in the living room. Or, something Keith said the other day triggered a memory of her sobbing in a hospital bed because they did a crappy job of punching a hole in her lungs after they collapsed the second time.
I don't want those memories anymore, but spring seems to be the time I have to deal with them the most. It is painful and exhausting. I have found myself needing a lot of extra comfort these last few weeks and have resorted to things like hugging my stuffed animals or wearing her wedding ring. I wanted to hear her voice so badly yesterday, but wasn't brave enough to try to find a sound clip with her on it because I didn't know if I'd be able to handle it.
I've heard from lots of other people that year 2 is supposed to be harder than year 1. I now add my own experience to this. I have had lapses of emotional instability that have nauseated me like a good bout of motion sickness might. Nothing comforts me in those times, which is very unlike me. I have't had to fight depression like this since I was a teenager... and those were dark times. I have found myself detached from normal life on more than one occasion in these past few months, like I am just "playing the part" of myself, but not actually participating. It is an eerie feeling, sitting there pretending like I am engaged in an activity while at the same time wishing I was curled up in a ball in my bed or on the couch. It has been such a long time since I have struggled with this, I feel a lot of anxiety about it coming back.
2. My kids did not acknowledge me again this year. Unlike last year, there was no flower or card from Katie, only a brief, "Aren't we going out to dinner or something since it is Mother's Day?" Nope, sorry, we are not. Your father is out on a long run, so I will order you pizza and you can continue to ignore my existence. When the pizza guy came to the door, he said, "Are you having a good Mother's Day?" OH YES, ABSOLUTELY! I wanted to say. I held my tongue and made a crack about not having to cook and having time to rest up (Read: No one gives a damn what I do today, so I am just going about it like I do every other Sunday.). Instead of dropping the subject, though, he said something like, "Well, I hope it is a good day for you; they should be cooking you a nice meal or something!" Yes, I thought, or at least anything else.
I graded papers, ate some pizza, read a book that I am enjoying called The Selection, and did laundry. My daughter sat at the computer or watched TV, totally ignoring the day. I tried to be light and engage her in conversation about prom, which I am not sure she really enjoyed because she hasn't said much about it. My grandma called to see how my day was going, and I went downstairs and shut myself in the guest bedroom while I talked to her because I couldn't stem the flow of tears. I still can't. I just... I mean, my own stepmom always treated us as the second-class kids and was not especially nice to me when I was little, but I never neglected her. I still don't, and they hardly ever even talk to us anymore and have not invited us to some family functions. But I have never neglected to check in with her on Mother's Day. I always send her a card. And my stepdad, too... I mean, Jesus, he abused me and my sister, but we still always acknowledged him on Father's Day.
I neither abuse nor neglect my kids. I am busy, but I still engage with them, get them gifts, go to their functions... And somehow, I don't deserve even a nod.
I just don't know if I will ever get used to this. I am not going to preted that it doesn't hurt. It hurts. A lot. And it makes me angry with them, and with Keith. My sister and I were raised to always consider these holidays special, or at least to use it as an opportunity to do so. We were raised to make people feel loved and special... But I am finding out that it was not normal to be like that. My own kids haven't been raised like that, and despite my own efforts, they still don't. I am not even sure if they did anything for their mom... I mean, I had to ask Ben today on the way home from church if he got anything for his mom for Mother's Day. I mean... COME ON. I shared these feelings with Keith... I want him to teach his children to have more compassion, to think beyond themselves. He said he just wanted them to do it on their own this year. I told him to think about the end result... aka me on the bed crying because nothing came of it... or Holly not even having time with her own kids on Mother's Day... and decide if that was a good idea or not. I re-read my old entries about two years ago when we went out to eat and a movie to celebrate the day, and how relieved I was that he did something... And I want to ask him why he doesn't do that every year. Why don't I deserve that? I agree that they should have to pick up at some point, but... Why should I have to feel this way every. effing. year. because he wants them to do something that we both know they won't do? It is so painful. AND. I would never let Father's Day go by like this. We will always celebrate Father's Day, even if the kids don't get him anything. Always. We will always set aside that time. We always have so far. So why do we just let Mother's Day go by and pretend it isn't important? I just don't understand. I don't understand why those kids aren't made to be less selfish. I try... But I only have so much influence. If I ever get the chance to raise my own kids, you can bet any poker hand that they will always be encouraged to make their family members feel special on days like this... Just like I was when I grew up.
It became so much for me this evening that I ended up curled in a ball around my Whiskies (an old gray stuffed animal cat of mine) on the guest bed. Then, I got sucked into checking FB, which is a complete mistake on a day like this. My entire news feed is full of people posting pictures of themselves and their moms, thanking all the moms, taking their moms out, telling the world how thankful they are for their moms... And I am just not able to handle that.
I think I will try to sleep now.
1. Each year since my mother's death, the assault of advertisements, commercials, and signs all over the place about Mother's Day just reminds me more poignantly that she is not here. What's worse, it happens right around the time of her death. I've cried a lot this weekend... Yesterday, I couldn't get myself together as I spoke to my aunt about being too exhausted to drive up to Frankenmuth on Sunday. I sat in the parking lot at Subway, unable to stop the choked sobs, too embarrassed to go in and join Keith and Ben for lunch. I eventually texted Keith to tell him I was out there. He came out to meet me, and I just went home. They came home shortly after. I took a nap on the bed, curled into the fetal position, and ate my sub later when I woke up. I have found this year that I have less control of the emotional instability associated with the grieving process. Sprintime brings all these memories... Everything is bittersweet. I have always loved spring for many reasons... But now, I seem to be simultaneously elated that the sun is shining and assaulted with the memory of moving my mom from her home to the hospice facility. Or, flowers coming up remind me of cleaning out her flower beds while she slept in the hospital bed in the living room. Or, something Keith said the other day triggered a memory of her sobbing in a hospital bed because they did a crappy job of punching a hole in her lungs after they collapsed the second time.
I don't want those memories anymore, but spring seems to be the time I have to deal with them the most. It is painful and exhausting. I have found myself needing a lot of extra comfort these last few weeks and have resorted to things like hugging my stuffed animals or wearing her wedding ring. I wanted to hear her voice so badly yesterday, but wasn't brave enough to try to find a sound clip with her on it because I didn't know if I'd be able to handle it.
I've heard from lots of other people that year 2 is supposed to be harder than year 1. I now add my own experience to this. I have had lapses of emotional instability that have nauseated me like a good bout of motion sickness might. Nothing comforts me in those times, which is very unlike me. I have't had to fight depression like this since I was a teenager... and those were dark times. I have found myself detached from normal life on more than one occasion in these past few months, like I am just "playing the part" of myself, but not actually participating. It is an eerie feeling, sitting there pretending like I am engaged in an activity while at the same time wishing I was curled up in a ball in my bed or on the couch. It has been such a long time since I have struggled with this, I feel a lot of anxiety about it coming back.
2. My kids did not acknowledge me again this year. Unlike last year, there was no flower or card from Katie, only a brief, "Aren't we going out to dinner or something since it is Mother's Day?" Nope, sorry, we are not. Your father is out on a long run, so I will order you pizza and you can continue to ignore my existence. When the pizza guy came to the door, he said, "Are you having a good Mother's Day?" OH YES, ABSOLUTELY! I wanted to say. I held my tongue and made a crack about not having to cook and having time to rest up (Read: No one gives a damn what I do today, so I am just going about it like I do every other Sunday.). Instead of dropping the subject, though, he said something like, "Well, I hope it is a good day for you; they should be cooking you a nice meal or something!" Yes, I thought, or at least anything else.
I graded papers, ate some pizza, read a book that I am enjoying called The Selection, and did laundry. My daughter sat at the computer or watched TV, totally ignoring the day. I tried to be light and engage her in conversation about prom, which I am not sure she really enjoyed because she hasn't said much about it. My grandma called to see how my day was going, and I went downstairs and shut myself in the guest bedroom while I talked to her because I couldn't stem the flow of tears. I still can't. I just... I mean, my own stepmom always treated us as the second-class kids and was not especially nice to me when I was little, but I never neglected her. I still don't, and they hardly ever even talk to us anymore and have not invited us to some family functions. But I have never neglected to check in with her on Mother's Day. I always send her a card. And my stepdad, too... I mean, Jesus, he abused me and my sister, but we still always acknowledged him on Father's Day.
I neither abuse nor neglect my kids. I am busy, but I still engage with them, get them gifts, go to their functions... And somehow, I don't deserve even a nod.
I just don't know if I will ever get used to this. I am not going to preted that it doesn't hurt. It hurts. A lot. And it makes me angry with them, and with Keith. My sister and I were raised to always consider these holidays special, or at least to use it as an opportunity to do so. We were raised to make people feel loved and special... But I am finding out that it was not normal to be like that. My own kids haven't been raised like that, and despite my own efforts, they still don't. I am not even sure if they did anything for their mom... I mean, I had to ask Ben today on the way home from church if he got anything for his mom for Mother's Day. I mean... COME ON. I shared these feelings with Keith... I want him to teach his children to have more compassion, to think beyond themselves. He said he just wanted them to do it on their own this year. I told him to think about the end result... aka me on the bed crying because nothing came of it... or Holly not even having time with her own kids on Mother's Day... and decide if that was a good idea or not. I re-read my old entries about two years ago when we went out to eat and a movie to celebrate the day, and how relieved I was that he did something... And I want to ask him why he doesn't do that every year. Why don't I deserve that? I agree that they should have to pick up at some point, but... Why should I have to feel this way every. effing. year. because he wants them to do something that we both know they won't do? It is so painful. AND. I would never let Father's Day go by like this. We will always celebrate Father's Day, even if the kids don't get him anything. Always. We will always set aside that time. We always have so far. So why do we just let Mother's Day go by and pretend it isn't important? I just don't understand. I don't understand why those kids aren't made to be less selfish. I try... But I only have so much influence. If I ever get the chance to raise my own kids, you can bet any poker hand that they will always be encouraged to make their family members feel special on days like this... Just like I was when I grew up.
It became so much for me this evening that I ended up curled in a ball around my Whiskies (an old gray stuffed animal cat of mine) on the guest bed. Then, I got sucked into checking FB, which is a complete mistake on a day like this. My entire news feed is full of people posting pictures of themselves and their moms, thanking all the moms, taking their moms out, telling the world how thankful they are for their moms... And I am just not able to handle that.
I think I will try to sleep now.