“Side? I am on nobody’s side, because nobody’s on my side, little Orc.” —Treebeard to Pippin, from The Lord of the Rings: the Two Towers

You know, for me, Father’s Day used to be the more troublesome of the two calendar days dedicated to parent titles.

People seemed to understand that. I did have family members try, when I was in my early teens, to insist I talk to my father after everything fell out between us. Maybe they thought that I’d regret not talking to him at the time. Maybe it was well-intentioned. I don’t know. But I do know that there was a level of appreciation for my feelings, even if those feelings weren’t totally respected all the time.

Somehow, strained relationships with fathers make more sense to people. More than that, they’re fetishized. To some crowds, there’s a peculiar sex appeal in a girl with daddy issues.

A girl with mommy issues, though?

Cue the consternation and skepticism. Impossible. Unheard of. How could one be on anything other than good terms with one’s own mother? We literally owe them our lives, don’t we? No matter what she might do, “she’s still your mother!” “You only get one mother in your life, you know!”

It turns out that’s not true. There’s a woman out there who gave birth to me 35 years ago, and made decisions throughout about 29 of those years, before I went no-contact, that drastically harmed and traumatized me. It’s an exceptionally long path of destruction she left in her wake. But, I have a number of women in my life who fill 95 percent of the void that’s resulted from all that, for which I am thankful.

Even so, Mother’s Day has become the more painful holiday by far over Father’s Day. It’s worse than usual this year, because I’ve gotten a more intimate picture over the last few months of my mother’s current situation and state of health. My imagination is vivid at the best of times, and it’s all too easy for me to picture what she’s doing, how she’s doing, the woe-is-me complaints she’s making to anyone who’ll listen.

Spending time with the loved ones I do have, on my husband’s side, is wonderful. However, lately it only serves to remind me that I no longer have a side, myself. That’s a pain I don’t know how to truly explain, and if I’m being honest, I don’t think I’m handling it well. I feel like Treebeard in not having a side to take or to be a part of; however, as a result, I feel lost in the forest, wandering in the dark, lucky if I manage to get my lantern lit. Treebeard never got lost in the forest, being its omnipresent guardian and all. But I digress.

I’m doing my best to find grace for myself, and hope that others can offer me grace as well. Beyond that, I guess I’m just looking forward to Monday (which would seem absurd to say at any other time, but, here we are).