I hate Mother’s Day.

It’s a bald statement, I know, but surely it is not a surprising one. I know I’m not alone in this, and I know how cynical I’m about to sound. The “Hallmark holiday” version of this day, where everyone in a family peacefully (ha!) gathers to lovingly (ha!) celebrate their deserving (ha!) matriarchs, and everyone is all smiles and rainbows and flowers and joy…ugh. It’s an unattainable fantasy for many more people than you’d think. Society draws a colorful picture of how holidays are “supposed” to go, and people expend way too much time, energy, and money trying to recreate that, year after year, because they think they need to. (In recent years, there has been an interesting trend of offers to opt out of holiday-centric targeted emails from some retailers, acknowledging that these days are difficult for some people, and I’ve found that to be amazing and really appreciated the ability to avoid all that triggering marketing.)

Even with opting out of those emails, I’m not impervious to this whole process. I married into a family for whom most holidays actually do fit into the general image of what I call the “Hallmark holiday” facade, except for them it’s not a facade. They legitimately love each other without agenda and appreciate each other’s company. Going on eight years of relationship with my husband, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this unicorn exists and that I’m a part of it. Anyway, my husband’s family (he’s one of four siblings) has had a tradition for years now when it comes to Mother’s Day, and Father’s Day as well, of all gathering for lunch at a restaurant in a relatively central location, as we’re all living in different states now. The pandemic interrupted this for a couple of years, but we’re resuming the practice tomorrow, though two of the four siblings won’t be able to make it this year. It should be lovely; we’ll get to see family we haven’t seen in ages, including a new niece we haven’t met yet. My mother-in-law is (thankfully) a lovely woman. The food will be good.

But I hate Mother’s Day.

This is even trickier to admit now that I’m a mother myself. I think I’m expected to act cheerful on a day that celebrates my uterus’s success in reproducing. And I love my daughter more than anything, of course. Unfortunately, it also serves to underscore my uterus’s failure to reproduce again. So, there’s that. And that would be enough to deal with on its own, without the emotional turpentine that comes with this day bringing up a whole slew of feelings about my own mother, whom I have not spoken to at all in almost four years. Days like Mother’s Day throw that pain into sharp relief. While I am confident that my mother never really knew me at all, I am equally confident that I know her quite well, and so I know that Mother’s Day sucks for her too. I have no trouble picturing her day tomorrow, knowing the tears she will shed. It sucks for her because she misses her mother, and her aunt, and her mother-in-law (my paternal grandmother), and other important women she’s had in her life that have passed away. That’s always been legitimate and understandable. Now, it also sucks for her because she doesn’t have her daughter in her life anymore. …Okay, that’s also legitimate and understandable.

(See, the trouble with being an empath raised by a narcissist is that in spite of the damage they’ve caused, you can understand their pain, and seek to validate it in spite of yourself. After validating them at your own expense for your entire life, it’s a damn hard habit to break.)

The sticking point would be that she cannot acknowledge her role in the situation we’re in. Her current audience will only see how sad she is on a day like Mother’s Day, and offer her the sympathy and support she needs to feed her narcissistic illusions. And so, the cycle continues. I find that infuriating – probably because I’ve been molded into a fixer who hates injustices, and this is a problem I cannot solve; the people around her now are people I cannot rescue from her. I’m trying to focus instead on the fact that while the cycle continues, at least I am no longer part of it. Surely by now I have been painted as a villain, a cruel heartless daughter, a pariah. The key is to let it be, because maintaining my peace of mind is worth more than correcting any falsehoods or misrepresentations about me. About four years ago, I chose internal peace over external reputation, and I haven’t regretted that choice. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t a difficult choice to make; it just means that I know it was the right one.

So, all in all, I hate Mother’s Day.

If you hate Mother’s Day too – for any reason – know that you’re not alone. If you’re stuck in obligations on a day where you’d rather just hide away – you’re not alone. If you’re feeling irritable or sad or confused or any number of other things, and to boot you’re surrounded by people who seem carefree and oblivious about how complicated days like Mother’s Day can be – I promise you, you are absolutely not alone. My best advice is to find a way to make some time and space for yourself to acknowledge those thoughts and feelings, wherever you can fit it in between whatever plans you might have for the day. I also highly recommend connecting with other people who get it. If you don’t have other people who get it – well, rest assured, reader, you at least have me.