What Can I Give My Mother on Mother's Day? Forgiveness.

Forgiveness usually doesn’t fall high on the list of things people think about on Mother’s Day.

The relationship between mother and child is literally the first connection our soul has on Earth. That’s why so many feel the strongest bond to their mothers. It’s also why so many grieve the void. The pedestal that society puts on strong women can make the feeling even worse.

While I watch so many people post paragraph after paragraph about their wonderful mothers who took care of them and guided them, I can’t help but feel anger as the veneer for my sadness. They say that the hardest thing to do is accept an apology you never got. So, do you keep accepting apologies you’ll never get? How do you forgive someone who continues to do the same thing over and over again? What do you do when that person is your mother?  

The sense of loss I carry makes my shoulders ache. I lost any semblance of safety, consistency and support when my mom disappeared from my life and came back ready to shame me for being upset.

When everyone else had packed lunches, I ate the granola bar I found at the bottom of a kitchen drawer. When everyone else’s mom came in to get them from school, I ran home and praised myself for burning extra calories. When everyone else needed help, they turned to their mother.

I have worked so hard to forgive, over and over. Sometimes, particularly on Mother’s Day, I don’t want to forgive. I want to praise myself for picking up the pieces. I want to write myself a card for getting through the dark days trying to find my way. I want to buy myself flowers for taking care of my damn self. 

Even though I feel proud, the anger lingers. The shame is too much. Abandonment wounded me deeply enough, but the memories of being shamed for my feelings are too much to bear.

Even on my spiritual journey, my relationship with my mother is something I must continue to grow with. I have to be the one to forgive and let go.  

Some days are better than others. I remember that my soul chose this body and chose my parents to bring my soul to the place it needs to go. I can either let it make me bitter with a closed heart, or I can feel my emotions and choose to remember the bigger picture.

I am not this body, I am not my experiences and I am not my mother. Every time memories come up, I choose to feel them, release them and remember that I must be the light she needs. Every time I do this, I keep my vibration high, even in the face of deep sorrow. Every time I do this, I return to my soul. Every time I do this, I remain on my highest path.

If my mom would’ve been more present in my life, I wouldn’t have gained the strength to listen, understand and empathize. I wouldn’t have learned so many of the tools I’ve needed on my journey. I wouldn’t have become who I am today. Remembering these facts is bittersweet, but each trial was exactly what I needed to grow into the best version of myself.

If Mother’s Day is a tough day for you, I understand. Conventional advice says to pamper and thank yourself for all you’ve done. Certainly, do that but remember to cry if you need it. Write, run, talk to a friend; do whatever you need to do to move through the lower vibrating emotions that need to surface for you to heal. The process is not linear and as soon as you think you’ve made it, something may pop up. This is the journey; this is the path.

You are not your relationship with your mother or lack thereof. You are a soul having a human experience. The pain, the joy, the changes are all part of what your soul needs, even if it hurts like hell. As Michael Singer says, “You are on a rock, spinning around the sun. Why would anything ever make you upset?”

Feel your feelings, let them rise and then detach from them. You can feel them while remaining separate, remembering they are part of the experience. I know how hard it is when the world tells you to feel differently and love your mother, but remember that only you know what is best for you. Honor yourself. Honor your journey. Honor your soul.

I am in this with you, always.