Mother’s Day

I hate Mother’s Day.
Not because I hate my Mother. Not at all. I love her.
Not because I hate my Sister in Law who is a fabulous Mother to the most beautiful Niece & Nephew one could ask for. Not at all. I love her too.
There are just some days that you wish you could spend in a meaningful way that expresses how you feel & Mother’s Day fails miserably to do that year after year. Perhaps it is just my inferiority complex but on this day I feel I cannot give her all that I wish I could. I feel like I let her down. Despite trying desperately to make the day ‘special’ – to buy the perfect gift, be the “happy-together-perfect Daughter” that makes her proud I still spend every single agonising minute of the day knowing that I am letting her down.
For those of us that are not Mothers, it is rather an exclusionary day. You are forced to remember that you are NOT a Mother & therefore somewhat irrelevant to the day whether your own Mother is present or not. It’s just another slice in the heart that makes it such a difficult day.
I know that I will most likely spend many, many more years letting my Mother down; being without children of my own &, therefore, being completely unaware of how Mother’s Day makes a Mother feel. I know this. I do not know how to face it. Without burying it down there with the endless string of feelings left from divorce, death, lies, disappointment & that rotting resentment I have for myself that will no doubt come back to haunt me; probably when I am least armed to deal with it but I cannot think about it now, “I will think about it tomorrow.”

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