So, it’s past noon and I’m taking a work break to blog something. As usual(for the past month-ish) I have a bunch of posts I started this weekend but couldn’t focus on enough to finish.

It was Mother’s Day this weekend. And as I’ve mentioned before, my mother passed away a few years ago. Not too long after I started this blog.

For whatever reason, this year, Mother’s Day hit me harder than ever before. And I couldn’t help but fall into a little bit of a funk, no matter how hard I tried not to.

My mom and I had a complicated relationship. When new(er) people to my life ask about her, I say that we weren’t close. But that’s not entirely true.  Saying that you’re not close with your mother conjures up images of people who don’t talk. Whereas my mom and I talked several times a week. We just weren’t emotionally close.

Like many women, my relationship with my mother was complicated by the fact that she didn’t understand the life I chose or the choices I made. Didn’t understand, and as far as I could tell, didn’t approve of it. And while she did her best to be supportive when she could be, she also didn’t hide her disappointment that I didn’t live a different life, the one she would have chosen for me. Not a conversation passed that I didn’t hear about it…

So this weekend when other people were celebrating Mother’s Day, or mourning their mom’s, I was having a little pity party. Thinking of how much I disappointed her, and how much I resented her constantly putting me down and how sad it makes me.

Anyway, this is not a Happy Mother’s Day post. It’s not a happy anything post. But maybe there’s someone out there that can relate.

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