I have this thing where I’m really good at blocking out outside noise. As a kid, I used to be able to do my homework in a loud, crowded restaurant. As an adult, I can completely tune out people around me and focus on my work or reading a book or whatever I’m doing. Nowadays, as a millennial with no mom around and (not necessarily intentionally) no kids and, instead, just a real murkiness about any future mom-ing that may or may not occur in my personal life, this has extended to being unintentionally good at ignoring holidays or cultural events that feel like they throw salt into that wound. That includes baby showers, pregnancy announcements on social media, and, you guessed it — Mother’s Day.
I have figured out a way to emotionlessly delete the nonstop Mother’s Day emails from brands that have been sailing into my inbox for weeks (months?) and ignore the seemingly endless “here’s what to buy mom” and “new mamas will love this!” posts on Instagram. I actually only recently realized the holiday was coming up this weekend.
I’m at a weird phase in life where most of my closest friends have children and I don’t, and some of those relationships have shifted a lot as a result (some for the better and some…not). My feelings about Mother’s Day and motherhood would likely be complicated as a result regardless right now, in this strange mid/late 30s part of life, but the icing is, of course, that I still very much wish my own mom was around — to talk to about all of the above, but also just…. to be here. Period. There are now a handful of events and even conversations that didn’t use to faze me but now feel difficult. I’ve learned, though, that if something (or someone) hurts you, you don’t have to continue subjecting yourself to it. You don’t have to put yourself into situations that are going to break your heart over and over again, and certainly not just because you think it’s the “norm” or because you’re concerned about hurting someone else’s feelings. If the people in your life support and love you, they’ll find it within themselves to understand and allow you the space and boundaries you need. And if they don’t… well, you may need to reevaluate who you’re surrounding yourself with.
This weekend, I’m not celebrating or doing anything relevant, other than likely wishing some of my best girlfriends and family members a happy day. I’m fine with that, and in case you were also hoping to ignore this holiday — if it’s not all bouquets of flowers and pretty snapshots and toddlers bringing you breakfast in bed, I’m here to tell you that is fine too.
Completely, totally fine.
You can have kids and still feel that way. Or maybe you don’t have kids but your mom is no long in the picture. Or maybe you’re like me, just the messy, motherhood trifecta of not knowing how to feel.
In the last couple of years, I’ve allowed myself to become the person who is okay with saying no to invites to mark occasions that no longer feel like a safe space for me, or to participate in anything that I know will leave me feeling broken. It sounds selfish, I’m sure — especially when something like Mother’s Day fits into that category; it sometimes feels that way too, and took time for me to even get comfortable doing. Saying no has never come naturally to me, at least not as a response to people I care about. (Edit: unless we’re talking about drugs, because let me tell you, if there’s anything I learned in the ‘90s, it was that — D.A.R.E. success story over here.) I have always been the kind of person who’d rather inconvenience herself then tell a friend or even a stranger that I can’t help them out or that I’m not available and willing to do things their way. (I think ol’ Merriam Webster defines this as people pleasing.) But grief has an uncanny way of lifting you up and shaking you around, and when it drops you back down onto your two feet, you’re the same but a little different. Rearranged. Not everything feels like it used to. Not everything is where you left it.
Losing my mom reprioritized a lot of things in my life, and made me better at accepting that “no” can be a complete sentence. That you don’t have to always go out of your way for another person, or agree to do things you know will just rip your wounds back open — even it feels like you’re letting someone else down. I mean, please don’t be a jerk about it, but you can respectfully and politely tell someone that you don’t want to do something (yes, even if it’s related to a holiday) or that it doesn’t work for you. In the words of Amy Poehler, “Good for her, not for me.” You can create healthy boundaries for yourself to support your healing and your mental health. You can choose to protect your energy. My mom was really good at reminding me to be kind to myself, and now that she’s gone, I guess I’ve (finally) taken that responsibility upon myself.
As an aside, I should tell you I almost named this post “motherless daughters,” but quickly remembered I actually hate that term. “Motherless” makes it seem like my mom never existed, or like she’d walked out on me, and feels sort of insulting toward her, I think. Just because I can’t see her anymore or we can’t chat over the phone again about what I had for dinner or the right way to wash the tub or the best brand of canned tomatoes for pasta sauce doesn’t make her existence any less important or prominent in my life. She didn’t leave me… she was just sort of relocated. My dad often talks about her likes she’s just out of town, traveling to another city right now, and while at first it broke my heart a little bit, it’s a nice sort of thought. She sends me metaphorical postcards every now and then to remind me she’s still around, and I suppose imagining she’s just hanging out in Brooklyn or Minneapolis, waiting to be with us all again (or in the words of my friend Val, just getting things ready for us), is pretty lovely. And you know, who’s to say it’s not true?
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Whatever you’re doing this weekend, be gentle with yourself too, okay? And if you are celebrating Mother’s Day, awesome! I’m wishing you a special day.💛 Either way, if you’re looking for something to cook (and read), here’s an essay + recipe I wrote about my mom for Food52 a couple years ago. And if you need some TV recs: for a laugh, I just started watching “Jury Duty” and have been laughing hysterically at it (I may be late to that party!), and if you were a big reader as a kid, I just started the Judy Blume documentary… I didn’t read a ton of her books, but the doc has so far been a mix of heartwarming and interesting.
Thanks for reading!
Joelle
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Joelle! Thinking of you! Thanks for sharing this, I know many will take comfort in it. (Ps I am also a DARE success story! This line me laugh because I remember being super proud that I won my DARE essay contest in junior high. My claim to fame! Ha!) I hope you do a few things this weekend that bring you joy and light you up.
I’m probably older than your mom would be now. I lost my mom when I was 46. The least time I spent time with her before she died, was on Mother’s Day and that year it was lovely, stress-free and just the best day we had together as a family. Poignant that it was the last. I never gave birth to children, was blessed with two step kids and adopted our granddaughter when she was almost 2. And yet, I feel so similarly to you. Thank you for your beautiful posts and for this one in particular. Enjoy your Sunday this weekend, because however you spend it, know you have brightened the day for others who are searching for the sunshine, too. And yes, be kind to yourself. The best advice from a mom ever.