It’s been 45 days since I’ve spoken to my mother.
Yesterday was Mother’s Day and I fully intended on writing and being able to capture and share my feelings as they came up because I knew they would be colorful. I knew Mother’s Day would be difficult. It always is. I just did not expect for it to be as hard and as painful as it was yesterday. The deep, deep sadness and pain I experienced felt unreal and felt kind of like I was in the room watching someone else experience a tragedy and I just could not get to them, because how could this sad, curled up, sobbing, depressed person be me? How is it that I am feeling so many things so intensely all at once? I have experienced mounds of grief; so many deaths over the past 4 decades and deaths of some people very close to me, and yet I still hadn’t experienced the type of and amount of pain and suffering as I felt yesterday, on Mother’s Day.
This was the first Mother’s Day that I did not call and send gifts to my mom. I felt guilty. I felt bad. I felt selfish. I felt distant. And I felt like a really bad daughter. I imagine my mom knew it was Mother’s Day. Maybe not. She’s not very organized and her days and time sort of melt together, with Alexa probably being her point of reference. There are commercials and radio announcements and ads and Alexa probably informed my mom it was Mother’s Day, so I’m pretty sure she knew. I felt terrible that I didn’t contact her on Mother’s Day because after all, she is my mother. I felt terrible thinking of her sitting alone, pitiful, without a call from her youngest child. I still feel terrible today and am grateful “the first” is over. “The first”- you know, the first holiday or birthday or anniversary or first important date after a loss. Next up, my dad’s birthday this coming weekend. My dad passed away in 2021 and was still married to my mom. I know that is a tough day to get through for her, at least I imagine it would be. But I won’t be calling her this time. I won’t be asking her how she feels or casually bring up some happy memories of my dad. I won’t be asking her if she would like for me to order her some food, maybe some Hawaiian food in his honor. I won’t be telling her that I am there to listen to her and I won’t be listening to her emotions spin and flap around. I won’t be reminding her that it is not appropriate to talk about my dad like that. I won’t be engaging in boundary setting conversations with her about how she speaks of the people I love and care about. I won’t end up getting into an argument or a hurtful conversation with her on my dead dad’s birthday and that is a small reminder of why this separation is the right thing for me right now. And then it’s her birthday the first week of June and then my birthday four days later and then my brother’s birthday eight days after that. I won’t have to gently shut her down when she demands I call my brother and tell him something for her because he hasn’t spoken to her in years. I hope these other firsts aren’t as gut wrenching as the first Mother’s Day without my living mother.
Mother’s Day morning was fine, pleasant even. Mother’s Day is a complicated and layered day for my household and that’s okay. As the day progressed, so did my emotions. I felt irritable, and mad, and painfully sad. So painfully sad. It’s difficult to feel so many different emotions towards one person. The love and respect I have for my mom is still present, it’s just that the love and respect I have for myself has outgrown her title of mother. As the tears stormed out of my eyes, I realized that I was not only grieving the separation from my mom and siblings, but I was beginning to grieve the countless losses I’ve experienced due to death; the friends who have passed, family members who have passed, people I love who have passed by their own choice, even my own dad’s death. Memories of so many people who have passed were filling my head, not leaving room for anything else. I’ve come to realize in this separation that because my mom took up so much of my emotional and mental space and time, I didn’t have the capacity to grieve the way I probably could have or should have for many of the losses and I could never share with her when a friend had passed. She would somehow make it about her or tell me to get over it or one up me. So instead, I just pretended like everything and everyone was great, at least when I spoke to her, not that she would even ask me how I am doing or how my family is doing.
She took up so much space. My days, nights, and hours were filled with stress, anxiety, anger, frustration, overproduction, and never ending to do lists. In this separation, I have found time. Time is moving much slower these days. I don’t feel like I am running around like a chicken with its head cut off…and that is terrifying. Now I have time, space, some clarity, capacity, and my mind and body know it and they are taking full advantage of this opportunity by pulling out all of the pain, sadness, and grief in what I have stored away for a later time. It’s later now.
I know this pain won’t last forever. I know it won’t. One of my favorite quotes is “This Too Shall Pass” and I know it will. I know I will feel better at some point and I know I will get to a better, fuller, healthier, happier version of me. Until then, I will probably be a hot ass mess and that’s okay too.
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