Things You Only Know If You’re Estranged From Your Mother On Mother’s Day

For me, Mother’s Day is a hotbed of emotional trauma triggers. ‘WORLD’S BEST MUM’. Who has one of those? Seemingly every single person on my social media. The high street is covered in crass, spring- coloured ‘We love Mum!’ reminders, screaming at me, begging me to succumb to the darkness of grief. Mother’s Day, while bringing much-deserved joy to so many, is my personal hell.

Chaos. That’s how I’d describe Mum. Growing up, my household was chaos. I lived in a world where a child’s simple, ‘How was your day?’ could be met with a smile or a slap, and it was up to you to prepare for the latter. The outcome was dependent only upon her current mood. Guessing became a survival instinct, one I still carry with me. A dirty plate left on the counter top could mean an arm covered in bruises.

Music played too loud in childish excitement could mean all manners of verbal abuse. It felt the punishment for even daring to exist was endless. Basic needs were not always met – even showers restricted, resulting in other kids calling out my greasy hair. Privacy wasn’t something she valued. I grew up with doors not allowed to be locked, the bathroom an open space for a parent to enter as they pleased.

Visits from childcare services, phone calls from worried teachers, friends’ mums asking questions, all a painful daily norm. I was hypervigilant at all times. Aware of my surroundings, and dodging the eggshells laid out to trip me.

Perhaps, through all the years of trauma and unjustifiable behaviour, the most damage done was to my own perception of love and healthy wellbeing. As I write this, it has been seven years since our last contact. Seven years since I wrote her a letter and, as maturely as I could, asked her to no longer contact me, reiterating that I wished her well. Seven years, and even as recently as this morning’s therapy session, I am still understanding how to identify learned behavioural traits and work on removing them.

Thinking and speaking of Mum is not something I do often. The toxicity of our relationship is one that provides bursts of grief as often as the memories resurface. I choose not to have a relationship. Others have had that choice forced upon them and, if I focus on that too much, I become overwhelmed with guilt. That being said, I am otherwise in a healthy place processing this loss. I don’t hate or resent her, but I also don’t love her any more.

Throughout the years, on Mothering Sunday, I’ve found a routine that is healthy for me. I allow myself to ride my own emotional roller coaster. I avoid social media, sometimes turning my phone off. I reach out to others also estranged, and spread love to the women who surrounded me, saved me and became my role models. I am grateful for what I have, rather than focusing on what I am missing. On Mother’s Day, you’ll find me proactively concentrating on that.

Things You Only Know If...