May 10th, 2009

Early on this Mother's Day, before rising, I felt the usual twinge.  It is the same one I have felt every year on this May Sunday for just about as far back as I can remember.  Long gone are the times when I made my own mother's gift at school by painting an egg carton gold, gluing beads on top to form the word "mom", and waiting for her inevitable expression that told me it was simply the best gift in the world.  Innocence is still a joyful memory to me in so many ways.  But things tend to get complicated and Mother's Day even more so.  My own right to be honored by my sons on this day has always taken a back seat to the complex feelings the day brings up in me.  That isn't really fair but it is just another small price to pay for truth and healing.  A price I am more than willing to pay.   

On this particular Mother's Day, contemplating the situation one more time, realizing that another year had passed since the last contemplation, it came to me that only one opportunity per year to do this a little better presents itself.  Thus time is of the essence.  There isn't a lot of rehearsal time like in the theatre where you rehearse for weeks, over and over, and ideally feel prepared to give your best, fully thought out performance when the audience is present.  No, Mother's Day sneaks up, I try to avoid thinking about it, and then when it arrives, I haven't made much progress since the year before.  This year, I am determined to apply the principles that I risked everything to put forth in my new book, Silver Platter Girl.  I have decided to teach myself what I am trying to teach others and seem to have forgotten.  Yes, this Mother's Day will be different. 

First there was the dreaded "should I acknowledge Mother's Day" with my own mom.  I long ago gave up the visit to the Hallmark store searching for a benign card that didn't have the terrible undercurrent of our painful situation.  The cards with the gooey sentiment served not only to remind me of what I miss so much each day, but also what others enjoy with their moms.  Then I reminded myself that it was possible that millions of women probably send the card they know their moms want to receive, even if they have to bite the bullet to do so.  It is most important to remember though that there are lots of lucky families out there who have wonderful moms who deserve to be honored on this day and do so willingly, choosing the gooiest of cards with full confidence that those cards reflect their true gratitude to the woman who most likely loves them more than anyone else possibly could.  Hallmark has made a fortune on that belief.  More power to them.  The love of a mother, the protection and sacrifice of a mother on your behalf, are amongst the greatest gifts in life. 

This year I decided, like in most recent years past, to send flowers.  I didn't place the order until yesterday, putting it off as usual, but knew that in this day and age, they would take any order at any time and deliver them in plenty of time.  When the nice lady asked what sentiment I wanted on the card, I responded "Happy Mother's Day, love, Trish".  She paused and then asked if that was the entire message for my card?  Yes, I said, that was it. 

I don't want to be angry on this day.  I still love my mom and don't mind, on this day, giving her state of denial a little artificial validation, so she can say to friends and family that Trish sent beautiful flowers for Mother's Day.  And it will mean a lot to her.  That's ok with me.  Those friends and family don't know exactly why I have stayed away for so many years and never show up when they come to visit.  My mom tells them she has no idea why I would do that.  That's life on the silver platter.  Served up.  I am proud that I have never indulged my natural desire to repair my tarnished image with those friends and family by telling them why I stay away.  No, I tell them they will have to ask my mom.  I know she won't tell but now I have.  As healing as it is to tell, to have now told in my book, it doesn't feel good to do it at anyone's expense.  I have been living on the silver platter for so long that it feels strange to finally step off and just see my reflection in it, as it appears on the cover of my book.  It is hard to accept that I have a right to be happy and tell my own story because for so long I have not exercised that right.  Now I have to work on feeling ok that I did that.  Not just for me, but for so many of us who have trouble with that one thing.  You know, that part where we honor ourselves and decide that we deserve the truth and the wonderful healing that comes with acceptance of what happened to us.  Then and only then can we move on to claim our own truth which is now in our own control.  Often for the very first time. 

I guess I just wrote what my job is on this Mother's Day.  Accept my situation for what it is, and recognize the love and joy that now exists in my life of my own making.  The love I fought for, risked my life for, and have every right to live in the light of.  Don't get stuck in the love that didn't work out, that you wanted and needed so much, but never really materialized.  Or you might miss the love right before you.   Now that would be a terrible way to spend Mother's Day.  Letting all that get away from you.   Today I choose to be present in the love of my own children rather than absent somewhere else.  Hopefully it is not too late to let that love be their Mother's Day story.  And then when they have their kids, any Hallmark card will do. 

SPG