How to survive Mother's Day
This email contains no discounts.
It started in the supermarket. And, God! What is it with me and feeling intense emotions on standard shopping trips? (it’s happened before.) But I was suddenly very, very angry at Morrisons’ suggestion that I buy some fish to “celebrate mum.”
“Don’t forget!” the sign urged me in cursive pink font. I told the sign to fuck itself and… I must admit this could be my hatred of fish coming through. But, of course, there is another (probably more valid) reason…
It’s the thing I joke about, making strangers feel awkward at pub garden tables. It’s the thing I’ve written about so many times I’ve bored myself. It’s the thing that made me launch this newsletter.
There have been eighteen Mother’s Days since I lost her. Including the one that happened two weeks after I stood in an empty room, and touched her bloated, cold, unrecognisable and unbreathing cheek. It’s not always a miserable day. I’ve felt different emotions throughout the years – usually sad, sometimes can’t-get-out-of-bed-so but often tinted with an excessively positive and loving (in a macabre way) outlook that urges others, please, celebrate her before it’s too late. I’m glass half full! I like traditions! I love love!
This anger is new. Even the tone of this letter feels unlike others before it. But I also found myself rallying against the host of totally well-meaning emails asking me to “opt out of Mother’s Day promotional emails.” “It’s FORCING ME TO TICK A BOX SAYING ‘NO SORRY DEAD MUM’ IT ONLY FUCKING REMINDS ME” I ranted, over voicenote, to a friend. As for the promotions that have made it to my inbox? They’ve received my wrath too. Particularly the waxing salon offering me a discount if I went for a Brazilian with mum. (WHO DOES THAT?)
What’s changed? I think, as I write and consider grief weekly, I am just more aware of the impact of celebration days. As, of course, it’s not just today. Valentine’s Day can be deeply upsetting for many. As can Father’s Day. And I know that Mother’s Day doesn’t just upset those who have lost their mums. It also impacts those who have estranged or difficult relationships with them. And those who want children and can’t; those who have experienced multiple miscarriages; those who have lost their children.
It's not that I want these days to stop. I was once asked to speak on the radio (about this piece for Cosmo) and the host asked me whether I thought they should be banned. In today’s age of outrage I suspect they were rather disappointed when I shrugged and was like “nah of course not.” Not only would it be pointless, it would also be robbing people of the chance to celebrate their loved ones.
As that rush of love pushes through the anger. I stand by that it’s important to take time to celebrate the incredible people in our lives.
I just want to acknowledge that these days are hard. For one email to arrives in your inbox that says “hey, I see you.” To do that I needed the help of others, to try and capture (as much as I can) the different emotions experienced when you, for whatever reason, find the day hard.
The wonderful women below have either a difficult or estranged relationship with their mums or, like me, have lost them. Hearing their stories helped lift my anger. I also felt deeply connected to them, and their words. (if you struggle with mother’s day due to fertility issues then I have a separate letter coming up for you. I see you and I am sending love.)
Here’s what they had to say…
“I try to remember how lucky I was to have my mum”
My mum and I were so similar. We both loved watching Gilmore Girls together, shopping and getting a new book to sit and read. She was what can only be described as a sparkly person and just had this wonderful generous, creative, kind energy. I lost her to cancer in 2013. She was ill for a couple of years and died two weeks after my 21st birthday.
I was in my last year of uni and just about to go into real adult life. It was so scary. I remember sitting on the edge of my bed and thinking “oh god I’m going to have to cancel all my magazine subscriptions” which is a totally ridiculous thing to think but I thought, I’m an adult I have to figure out all of this on my own now.
She was my number one cheerleader. She supported me and my sister so much. But she was also honest. I remember when I told her I wanted to get into magazines she said “I know you don’t want to hear this but no one is looking for you, you need to put yourself in front of these people, get in the room any way you can.” And she sat with me sending out hundreds of emails for internships. I now work in the industry I dreamed of.
There are so many things that make living without her hard. One thing that comes to mind is that I have binge eating disorder, triggered by emotional stress. She also had B.E.D when I was growing up and it’s hard not to have her to talk to about it. She understood my disordered eating so much.
Mother’s Day has always been a mix of emotions. I used to hate it and cry, and eat my feelings watching Gilmore Girls. Sometimes I still do, avoiding social media or leaving the house where I might see people and their mums. One year though, a friend of mine invited me to spend it with her and her mum and, after that, I decided to reframe it in my mind. I see the day as an opportunity to be happy for my friends who still have their mums in their lives. I also have enjoyed watching my friends become wonderful mums to their babies. I also make sure to send my Nan flowers and a card because that’s what my mum would have done for her. Mostly I make sure to remember how lucky I was to have mine and feel grateful for the time I got with her.
Nicole
“I donate the money I would have spent on a present to charity, so some good can come out of a bad day.”
We used to openly mock people who said “my mum is my best friend” but, there were times, when it did feel like my mum was my only friend. We didn't always see eye to eye, particularly when I was a teenager and we were experts in pushing each others buttons but I was incredibly proud to be her daughter. I lost her to cancer in 2013.
For the first few years without her I felt completely untethered. I turned to self destruction, drinking too much and self harming for the first time in my 30s. The grief was so acute, sometimes I felt like it would kill me. Whenever anything big happens, good or bad, she's still the first person I want to tell. Everything I have achieved feels less special because she's not here to share it with.
Mum was a big perfume fan and whenever I catch a whiff of Chanel No 5, I immediately think of her. We were big fans of trips to the cinema and I still find it tricky to go and see films where I know there will be mothers and daughters sitting together. It stings. As does going on social media on Mother’s Day, seeing the declaration of love for mums who are still here. On the day I acknowledge any sadness and check in with friends who are also in the same boat. I donate the money I would have spent on a present to charity, so some good can come out of a bad day.
Cath
“I now have such a thirst for life, and I think this is what her love has transitioned into.”
There’s a bit of a cruel date alignment this year – it will be four years on Sunday (Mother’s Day) since we lost her. I was always so heavily connected to Mum, and her absence has been so intense and yet so numbing. She struggled with mental health issues, and consequently addiction, and that meant our relationship was quite complex at times. I find that as I grow older, I understand her more deeply and I struggle to come to terms with the finality of the loss.
I still find myself reaching for the phone to call her when I have any news to share – it’s been four years now but I still have that initial instinct! I really think the Mother-Daughter bond is so precious, and it’s hard not to feel that missing presence as I navigate through life. It breaks my heart when I think of all the things we should have experienced together. The upcoming Spring days always remind me of Mum. She loved being outside and was always so connected with nature. I feel her all around me when the world starts opening up for Spring and Summer. She was so radiant – just like the open water, and the sunshine!
The experiences I had with Mum – good and bad – have really changed who I am and how I deal with different things. She loved so deeply and felt everything. The loss of Mum has given me an acute awareness of life, and I feel everything so much more profoundly. I now have such a thirst for life, and I think this is what her love has transitioned into.
Yet I still dread Mother’s Day! Each year I think I am mentally prepared, but it always triggers some unresolved emotion. I like to spend the day doing something that I knew helped bring Mum peace – usually getting outside in the elements! I’m also so lucky to have such a wonderful support system and my friends and family will go out of their way to make sure I’m okay on the day. I’ve got a couple of friends who are new Mums and that’s really heart-warming for me.
Bethany
“Whether you have somebody to plug the gap or not, it's still a gap.”
I've been estranged from my mum for 20 years now, since I was seven. Ultimately I can't forgive her for some of the things that she has done. Whilst I understand and support (and, in fact, advocate for) the fact that everybody makes mistakes, especially and even as parents, there are some extreme scenarios in which this doesn't apply for me morally.
I think at first, I made it difficult for my mum to have a relationship with me (to be clear though: I do not blame myself) - I lived with my dad full-time and was starting to show symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I made excuses not to see her even from that young age of seven. In the end she gave up, and as I got older I felt I needed to explore this a bit. So I found her and met up with her when I was 16. That was my opportunity to ask her all the questions I had. I learned I'd never get the answers I wanted and that ultimately it would never be alright. For my recovery from PTSD, my relationship with her just couldn't happen.
Estrangement really is a last option. It's not one you take lightly. It's when things are totally irreparable or cause such damage to you that you just can't anymore - I've thought about it a lot in adulthood and wondered back and forth for a few years but ultimately my mind never changed: the relationship did me serious damage. Families are complex and they hurt each other and some things you can forgive, some you can't. The only person who could decide that for me, was me. There is a real vibe of 'but she's your mother', 'you only get one mum' - yes, but I also only get one life, and I've really learned the importance of that. If you wouldn't put up with something from anyone else, you shouldn't put up with it from your family either. The pressure around forgiving family for things you wouldn't forgive other people for is baffling. Controversial, but look at Prince Harry.
I had a lot of healing to do as a teenager (and in my early twenties) and I used to find the estrangement really difficult. I had a lot of anger to shift. My two closest friends are very close with their mothers, and I would see them together or hear about them doing things like getting manicures or going shopping and it bothered me a lot. I also hated hearing about how ‘a hug from mum’ could heal anything. It’s a phrase said a lot and it always upset me. But as I went further and further through PTSD recovery and learned more about who I am and what I'm doing, I honestly just discovered that I'm so much better off without her. I have a brilliant step-mum who has been around for a long time which cushions the blow nowadays somewhat, but I still know in my heart that my birth mother is out there somewhere going about her life. But ultimately, as more and more time has gone on, I don't need or want a 'hug from my mum' anymore - when you learn how to navigate the world as your own biggest advocate and supporter, you know with certainty what is right for you and what isn't. She isn't right for me and my life.
Mother's Day is bittersweet. It's a reminder of what's not there - but it's also a reminder of what is. I celebrate my Stepmother on Mother's Day because she really has played that role as best she can and has done a lot for me. I truly believe in the concept of 'chosen family'. But I do tend to avoid social media (or at least massively reduce my time on it) and remind myself that it's just. one. day. Whether you have somebody to plug the gap or not, it's still a gap. That's tricky. But the two can co-exist: gratitude for who you do have, and mourning for who/what you do not.
Hannah
As for me…
So, what do I have planned for today? It could look like a standard Sunday (gym class, roast with pals) but actually it’s playing a part in the tiny rebellion that I want to see influence my whole life. And that is celebrating all love. All the time.
I know there’s a lot of promotional info around at the moment that you can also celebrate other mother figures in your life… but I don’t have that either, in the sense of an older woman who can offer me guidance. What I do have is a multitude of friends, from all walks of life - those with children and without. A dad who is the opposite of anything I’d ever see when it comes to promotional materials about ‘happy’ families. A sister who is an incredible mum herself, and the first person I want by my side if I ever injure or hurt myself. A household made up of a kind man and a huge cat. Plus, a new one I only realise through writing this letter. I also have the love and connection to others, like those above, who understand my pain.
I plan on focusing on all that love. How lucky I am.
While… let’s face it… probably also feeling a little sad at those I see, on social media or in real life, celebrating with their mums. As Hannah says above “whether you have someone to plug the gap or not… it’s still a gap.”
Oh… and I have booked that wax. With a good friend. God help the poor waxer if she tries to challenge my validity to that discount…
What do you think? How have you spent today? Oh and if you’re into the idea of celebrating all different sorts of love, please consider buying my book - a kinda anti romcom romcom that does just that. It’s here. Or, if you love Cath’s idea of donating to charity (I ADORED THAT) can I point you in the direction of Showerbox? They’re a homeless charity I volunteer for, they provide showers (and other hygiene essentials) for those experiencing homelessness. The money donated will go directly towards those they help, or towards launching showers in other locations.
And… as, always I am sending so much love to you.