These are good tips for folks who are limiting contact with tricky families, or who feel pain around Mother’s Day for any reason.
Avoid Social Media. I know it’s easier said than done. I know it’s perversely tempting, but just…don’t. You know that you will see people appearing to have the type of experience and closeness with others that you wish that you yourself were having. You will see specific people having specific times that will give you specific feelings. You will be overwhelmed with images. No, no, no. Have a plan in place that requires your attention to be on the task and not on a screen. If you don’t mind taking the risk of seeing happy families, go to a park if it’s a nice day. It won’t be as bad seeing an actual happy family in a park, where little Steven pushes his sister, and Mom sighs because she’s unpacking the picnic that she made even though it’s her day, and they will still inherently be happy, but with warts, which is way more real than a posed social media shot. Get into nature, breathe cleaner air, be among trees. Read an analog book or do a hobby that involves your attention and senses.
Be an activist. Did you know that the very first Mother’s Day wasn’t so much a day to commemorate mother’s, but rather a day mother’s can take a day to go out into the world and do public service? Specifically, suffragist and abolitionist Julia Ward Howe conceived of the day as a day for mother’s to protest war, which is famous for taking children away from mothers. You don’t have to be a mother or have a mother, or have a good mother, or one you’re in contact with, in order to give back to the Mother, our planet, harmed by not only war and injustice, but by consumption. Plant a tree. Bring food to someone who is broke. Pick up trash in the aforementioned park. Contribute money to rescue families in Gaza. Volunteer in one of the many, many places that need you. Do the thing you are always telling yourself that you should do. Start small and be imperfect. Allow these acts of service to take you outside of your own mind and personal traumas and into the world. This is not to say that your personal trauma is invalid and must be transcended. It is to say, you probably need a break, and what better break can you get than fighting for what you know is right.
Honor the people who have mothered and nurtured you. Every Mother’s Day I send a text of gratitude to my ex-boyfriend’s mother, who took me in and treated me like her own. Grandma Leila (her real name) is still one of my biggest cheerleaders. Not only that, but she inspires the hell out of me, especially by recently taking on Moms For Liberty and transphobia and racism in the Sarasota Public School Board. I also thank my late mom’s former secretary, Sheri, who has talked and messaged with and supported me all through the legal actions brought against me by my siblings after our mom died. I have women that I thank who are about 15 to 20 years older than me, women my own age and women 2 to 5 to 10 to 30 years younger than me, that I honor for being motherly or nurturing to me. One of the most motherly mothers in my mother gallery is a trans woman, who I will not name, but I hope she knows how much she has done for me when she taught me spirituality in my 20s. Changing my focus to this maternal pantheon during the years that my mom was drinking herself to death, and beyond, has become a huge shift for me. Instead of focusing on loss and lack (which must be processed, but perhaps on a less loaded day) I’m tweaking the mindset to a gratitude setting, and it becomes emotional and deeply meaningful for both me and the people I reach out to.
Nurture yourself! Look, anyone reading an article about how to get through the pain of Mother’s Day has been through some shit. Take the day. I don’t care if you have skin babies, fur babies, or babies that live in your computer (I did not mean to sound that creepy there, but I’m going to leave it because now I’m getting this funny image.) Do not wait for someone else to honor you. Set the tone. If you have a disappointing-ass family full of buffoons who do not get the finer points of honoring you, then give instructions. Or just go off and do something for you. Tell them some lady on the internet gave you permission, and she’s a therapist.
Create a pod of people to check in with. If you belong to a forum or group of people that are working through the same thing, send them a voice memo or text. Plan it for next year. Create the pod now. Literally, message people who are in a similar situation and write “I’m thinking of you today.” Leave room open to process, discuss and distract. And if you have nobody to touch base with, send me a DM.
Allow others to honor you. This one is hard for me! My journey to becoming a mother was fraught with difficulties with my own mother and sisters. Not to mention I was already a stepmother, and that I suffered secondary infertility after my daughter was born, making her the only child I would ever have. While it is a challenge to put all of that complexity aside, I still remember I am one of the people lucky enough to be a mother, and my child is absolutely amazing. The fact that I hear from my stepchild at all, let alone be the recipient of (reciprocated) warmth, is nothing short of a miracle if you know how hard it can be to blend a family. If you are not a mom, I hope someone honors you for what you give to them. And if they don’t, heck, I DO.
Do a project! This relates to #1. I have started a tradition at my house by knowing my worth and stating my desires. My family is making breakfast, which we will eat outside in the backyard. They get to pick what to cook and they decided breakfast sandwiches on brioche buns, with a side of fruit. Then we are going to nicen up the back yard: pick up dog poop, pull weeds, chop up old plants, pour more soil in the planters. Because we have a new puppy in the house (all hail, queen Pepper!) I decided I am NOT doing a big veggie garden this year so instead we are going to scatter wildflower seeds everywhere we can back there so that we can enjoy the summer in a peaceful riot of blooming color. What’s your project?
And if all of that fails, and you find yourself hate-scrolling, vague booking, and crying over other people’s lives. Remember the family in the park. Everyone has warts, the grass is always greener, and I still love you, because sometimes we need to burn our hands on the hate-scroll stove before we can cool it in the ice bath of quiet self-care.