F*cking Mother's Day
If that offends you, maybe you should ask yourself why.
You won’t find any "how-to" advice or ten-step life hacks here. I’m not here to tell you how to fix your life. I simply share my own thoughts, ideas, healing and creative journey. Take whatever works for you, and leave the rest.
I realized it’s Mother’s Day a few hours after starting my day. I’m not completely ignorant, you cannot help but trip over the commercialism of it—every store rolling out it’s own brand of “special”, thereby making it not special at all.
Around 10:00am I had a passing thought of texting or calling my mom.
But I didn’t, because we’re not talking at all.
And to the part of me that says, “just do it anyways,” a cacophony of voices steps in to remind me that I went no contact for a reason—and guarantees me it wouldn’t turn out well.
An old friend of mine texts, “Happy Mother’s Day to those with fur babies!” and it makes me laugh a little. I’ll turn 42 this year and never birthed a human child. It wasn’t part of my life’s journey, I guess.
Sometimes I wish an old lady would adopt me as her daughter. Someone who has something to teach me about the world, someone rough and tough and steady.
But society doesn't offer us wise old women for guidance; instead, it offers unsolicited advice from strangers on the internet.
A woman wants to tell me in some social media comments to “never give up,” on finding romance when I say, “staying single suits me just fine.” Because to her, giving up on dating makes you an angry, bitter woman.
Hey Erica, what the hell does that have to do with Mother’s Day?
A few days after my ex-husband strangled me in our bedroom, every woman crawled out of some woodwork to tell me, “don’t worry, you’ll find the right one soon.” As if my primary mission in recovering from an assault should be attaching myself to a male body.
consent doesn’t exist in the presence of lies
This week I had the thought, “consent doesn’t exist in the presence of lies.” Therefore, liars are rapists if you are sexually involved. And it’s helped me put to words the feelings I’ve had my whole life, of why I feel the need to shower until my skin peels off in every romantic relationship I’ve ever had.
I was given a lifetime restraining order, and hid out in my house. My neighbor lady hand wrote a 10-page letter begging me not to ruin his life over something so “trivial.” My mom told me, “I’m going to miss him so much,” and later described how she saw him at a Christmas party, drinking, and asked if he was doing okay. Lamenting how attached she was, “I really saw him as a son!”
I wondered if she felt the same about the adult man who groomed me when I was young. If that’s why they told me, “if he commits suicide, it’s your fault.”
I remember one of my sisters who was getting into a lot of trouble early on. My mom would say, “she’s got a great sense of humor, just like Jim Carrey! I’d love to introduce them, maybe he could save her,” when he was a grown man and she was still too young.
The threads of life are complicated. Like spaghetti and onions had sex and made a baby.
“Motherhood and marriage are the most difficult and rewarding jobs a woman could ever have!” I see plastered on countless Facebook pages. I want to agree, but my brain says, “that’s not reward, it’s conditioning.” Not in the structure of our society where mothers are isolated, left to raise whole families on their own (even with a man in the house), and criticized endlessly about any decision they make.
I don’t want to be a rapist
As a kid I remember women talking about older single women negatively. They were always called bitter, angry, bogged down with baggage. Prudes, cunts, spinsters, and cat ladies. The only way to avoid it was to catch and keep a man.
I wonder if that’s the game my mother had to play—and she was merely trying to pass it on as “wisdom,” to her kids, too.
One of the last times we spoke, I had mentioned an old friend, a man who wanted to marry me so we’d have someone to look after us in our old age. He’s more than 10 years my senior. She coached me heavily, “do it, think of the security when he dies and you can claim his social security!”
Except I don’t want to enjoy a relationship built on lies and manipulations. Whether it’s from me or them. I don’t want to be a rapist, so I’ll gladly accept the label “bitter, angry old cunt.”
If this resonated with you, you aren't alone. What societal "wisdom" or family conditioning have you had to unlearn to protect your peace? Tell me in the comments—I read every single one.
P.S. You can now pre-order my book, Zero, for Kindle using this link.