for those feeling grief or loneliness on mother’s day
This weekend is Mother's Day, in the so-called US.
And, of course, I have a lot of thoughts.
Before that, though—my brief but mighty schedule for May is at the bottom of this love letter. Just 2 events, in person, for the locals.
Back to mothers. The thoughts I'm sharing here are for people feeling grief or loneliness around this holiday.
~ If your mother is no longer in physical form and you miss her.
~ If your mother never gave you the mothering you needed, regardless of whether she's still in physical form.
~ If your mother was amazing when you were a child, but you've lost her to the crowd of red baseball caps and their favorite "news" network.
~ If you lost your mother way earlier than you wanted.
There are so many reasons to grieve, or feel lonely, or overcome by this holiday.
I get it, truly. One of the above scenarios describes me.
I don't talk about my parents much. We've had a tough relationship my whole life; the last decade or so has been especially distant.
I used to be reticent out of shame. And DAMN, did I hate Mother's Day and Father's Day. On those weekends, I avoided social media, in the hopes of missing all the happy, sentimental shares.
But that my avoidance created the space for me to reflect on my life. And I've realized that I've lost count of how many bonus mothers I've had.
Because humans are wired for love and connection. If you keep your heart open and welcome those who truly love you, you'll find mothering all around you.
In every place I've lived, at every phase in my life, additional mothers have shown up. None were blood relations. Some of them didn't speak English well, or at all.
They taught me, nurtured my interests, listened to me vent, passed me tissues when I was crying, encouraged me to be mySelf, reminded me that I'm already whole and complete as I am.
And even when I've made mistakes—because, of course, humans are naturally wired for those too—they've helped me understand how to do better. They've modeled grace and nuance and care.
So, even in my worst times—and if you've read my book you know just how isolated I've been—I recognize the mothering was always there.
You might find the comparison too much, but I also see mothering in nature. Not just in the mammalian instinct, of animal mothers with their young.
You can also see this instinct for support in trees. Before trees grow that tall, their roots intertwine with older, stronger tress. That support gives younger trees the stability to grow.
Even after trees are cut down, their root systems often remain active, in these relationships with other trees. That after death, they are both closer and farther away.
If you've read my book, you know that I think that's true for humans as well. And our beloved more-than-humans.
Because life is wired for love and connection.
I still know one of my earliest bonus mothers. We met when she was my preschool teacher. Decades later, whatever's worth knowing about me, she knows it all.
She's read my book twice, bless her. I visited a couple months ago, excited to get her critique. It had CATEGORIES. We had a complicated, beautiful conversation. I'm so fortunate to have her as a reader.
I hope you notice the presence of bonus mothering in your life, especially if you're struggling with this holiday. If you're inclined to share, I'd love to know. I wish those stories were told more often.
And always, always keep your heart open and welcome those who truly love you.
With care,
S.
she/they
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Upcoming events:
~ Soundbath on Wednesday, May 13th
~ Menopause Circle on Wednesday, May 27th
Both of these are done in collaboration with Grief House. Space is limited, so I encourage you to reserve your space. Sliding scale.
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