Mother’s Day is one of the most joyous OR most painful day of the year. Like tears on a rose, it can reflect overwhelming joy or deep sorrow. Sadly, there are more mothers who do not experience praises from their child, but endure pain from a wayward teen or young adult in crisis.
These crises are not ones in which your child can’t find their shoes or can’t get to their job on time. It is not from a haircut gone wrong or having a disagreement with a friend. No, the crises I am referring to are the ones centered around addictions, eating disorders, suicidal tendencies, mental illness, sexual identities, rebellious behaviors, and more.
The most notable day of the year, Mother’s Day, is difficult to celebrate when you have a teen or young adult who shuns you, says mean things, and doesn’t care..
How can we as mothers, enjoy this day when our hearts are hurting and we are left with tears?
I used to hate Mother’s Day. Did you hear that? “Used” to! I would see all of the mother’s surrounded by their smiling and laughing children of all ages giving honor to their mom. These children would present signs, crafts, give gifts, and bestow beautiful words of love and respect onto their mother.
Me? Nada! I dreaded this once a year holiday. Why? Because there were crises left and right, ongoing drama, heartless thanks, and a plethora of other problems toppled on each other. Instead of feeling I just came out of a word entrenched spa enjoying the accolades of praise for being the best mom, I was instead left in tears, guilt, shame, hurt, and pain for being a mom to a teen with serious issues.
I envied other moms. I was jealous of how they spent time with their families enveloped by so much love it would burst like the Fourth of July fireworks. Unlike that moment, I stayed in bed with the covers over my head wishing I could start life over. Did I say I hated Mother’s Day?Continue reading →
As I left work the other day, the women in my office wished each other a weekend farewell and a Happy Mother’s Day. I returned the gesture on my way out and as I walked to my car I had thought upon the earlier years in which I dreaded Mother’s Day.
We see it in the commercials, find it plastered in the mail, drive by and see the signs of the Happy Mother’s Day specials. Forever noting it in our memory, mother’s are greeted lovingly by their children, hugged and kissed, and given wonderful accolades to being the greatest mom in the world.
But for countless others, Mother’s Day almost seems like a curse; a curse that is filled with struggle, fear, anxiety, depression and a multitude of roller coaster emotions that are hard to deal with. Continue reading →
For the mom with a teen in crisis, Mother’s Day is often a day that she wants to forget. But that is difficult to do when all she sees are the loving Mother’s Day ads on television or hears wonderful accolades from other children to their mothers.
Instead, she sits there with tears in her eyes because her son sits in the mental hospital due to a suicidal attempt or a daughter who does drugs and has run away for the third time not knowing if she is alive or dead.
It is true stories like these that hit hard to the heart of a mom who is barely able to get through each day as she worries, is hurting, and wonders if she will ever have that relationship you would see in the emotional Hallmark commercials.
They came from orphanages in a far off land. For one child, the back and forth motion helped stimulate her physical and emotional being as if she was rocking to the beat of a song. She cried after each 3 bottled meals a day at 9 months: One bottle of chicken broth, one bottle of tea, and lastly a bottle of bread floating in water.
There were twenty-five to thirty children per worker in a room who hardly touched them other than to change their soiled cloth diapers. This was the most attention they received for the entire day. After laying in the diaper for hours and hours, they would be stripped and rinsed off in ice cold water and left with what looked like cigarette burns below their waist and onto their bottoms from the dirty clothes.
Her sister at 27 months old, didn’t know any language or even how to crawl or walk. Tears would flow after every meal given to her. Her fears of not knowing if she would get more food frightened her and would cause her to hoard and steal if necessary. Continue reading →