Every year on Mothering Sunday, sons and daughters buy flowers and other gifts to celebrate their mother, articles come out glorifying motherhood (and sententiously instructing everyone to “call Mum”), and the pressure is enormous. Because, you see, my mother gave me hell.

She was rarely physically abusive; she is much cleverer than that. Everything is in the realm of plausible deniability. Why does she give me the cold shoulder for months? Who knows, but if confronted, she denies it. Why is there rank favouritism between me and my siblings and grandchildren? Not possible: strictly my imagination.

The sad fact is, some women who give birth, who may think of themselves as loving, are long on control and short on love

When people assume that those who have given birth automatically know how to feel (and express) “motherly love”, it only makes things worse. The assumption creates a mystique about the mother-child relationship that damages those raised by a mother who doesn’t know how to love. Many spend their lives wondering what is wrong with them, and why their mothers don’t behave lovingly. To have society then tell them that their mother is a de facto source of love to be adulated is brutal.

Are times always difficult for children (adult or not) in our situation? Ironically, no. In classic abuser cycles, our mothers will reel us in with kind phrases and expressions of support. Desperate to think that we are worthy of our mother’s acceptance, we cautiously take the bait. Once she is sure of our submission, the manipulation begins again.

The sad fact is, some women who give birth – and who may think of themselves as very loving – are long on control and short on love. These mothers may seem proud and supportive of their children, but in private are critical and naysaying. Their superficial charm isolates us, as outsiders can’t understand why we would not want to spend time with such lovely people. Mothers such as this play the victim beautifully: with tears in their eyes, they will tell others (particularly relatives, because they might get involved on their behalf) that they don’t understand what they could have done … while giving the silent treatment to said daughter or son for months over a perceived slight.

After years of being blamed for the problems in our relationship, I have had enough. This Mothering Sunday, those of my children who wish to may accompany me to lunch (my treat), and those who are not available will be loved vocally nonetheless. I will not be calling Mum. And I will not feel guilty about it. She has had her chance; sadly, while she thinks that her relationship with me is the only one where she has difficulties, her grandchildren see her manipulations and don’t want any part of them. Because they are still young and trying to be kind, they don’t let her know this. But the chickens have come home to roost, and my mother is sensing their lack of willingness to engage with her and is panicking.

To those of you lucky enough to have mothers you want to celebrate, do it with love and enthusiasm. But please, please, when you hear someone respond less than positively about their mother … don’t act as though they are somehow deficient and it’s their fault. If nothing else, celebrate your own mother’s love and care by showering it on that person who never had it.

Anonymous

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