Today is Mother’s Day. I went to go visit my mother and this day was different from all the rest of the other mother’s days I have experienced in my life. She said something to put down my deceased father and it hurt, but not enough for me to say anything to her. I told her that I loved her and that was about it. The truth is I don’t feel very much at all anymore when it comes to her and it is a very complicated thing.
When I was in my early twenties, I would read self-help books, read about Al-Anon, and go to therapy. They all talked about detachment, and I understood the concept. I kept trying to do it, but I was so intertwined with my family and the co-dependency in ways that I couldn’t even imagine that I could never do it. Now here I am, in my fifties. I have finally broken free of all the lies and ties that have held me back for so long and I can practice the detachment with ease. I hardly feel anything. On most days, it feels so good to be able to be free, but not today.
When I see people with their moms, I feel like there’s this hole in my heart. There’s something missing that should be there. I know there’s many people who had abusive mothers and I know that there’s a lot of people who feel the way I do, but it still feels sad to know that there’s something missing. I think the hardest part is because I have all these memories when I was a little girl when she was my mom, but even those are tainted now because all I see are how she was trying to lie to me and manipulate me.
Today and on days like these I find myself praying to God more than usual. It is difficult to forgive someone who has hurt me so much and won’t ever even admit she did anything wrong. Yet God teaches that I should love everyone and forgive everyone especially my own mother who I should honor. So, I realize that I can’t understand what her life what like and I will never understand her reasons. She did the best she could. I have to love her and forgive her because she did the best she could, and she can’t even recognize what she did to hurt me. And this feeling of detachment helps. If I couldn’t forgive, my heart would be filled with anger and hate, but it isn’t. I don’t feel anything and maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s time to let go it all and give it to God.
My faith saved me. May God’s peace reside in all of our hearts.
