Coping with holiday triggers: Honoring my inner child on Mother's Day

I was experiencing an emotional flashback yesterday, and I knew it was there for a reason. It was very much connected to the holiday. As soon as I woke, I felt an agitation in my body, a low level of tension that was amplified at times. My children were squabbling as they usually do.

As the day went on the house needed more and more picking up, and I still hadn’t gotten the peace and quiet I craved. Finally, at 4:45 I made it outside. I was eager to process my grief through writing. The kids had gone with Evan and the extended family to get some ice cream, and I was taking advantage of the sunshine and a delicious cup of coffee. It was through that intentional act that I was able to move through the heart-ache, discharging some of it, and integrate back into my present Self.

The remainder of the day was wonderful! The kiddos came back with ice cream for me, they happily picked up the house, and with the remaining time we finished a family movie. I felt regulated and refreshed, and even enjoyed some pillow talk with Evan for an unusually long time. I shared with him what I’m about to share with you. It morphed into conversation that neither of us planned, and in the end I learned more about him and he about me.

As I invite you into my reflections, I want to say, they are not meant to blame or shame my mom. In fact, she has apologized to me and my siblings many times for the way that she's affected us. I am very proud of her for the healing journey she is on! Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I love you. 

Instead, my reflections are a means of honoring the little girl I was, knowing that she lives on within me and feels the heartache from years past. Sometimes the ache is greater than other times. It's my duty to care for my inner child, and that I will. 

She remembers many a Mother's Day. My body recalls the pressure and stress, the sadness I felt deep down, and the depression that was palpable in the house. 

Memories that had not surfaced in a while felt safe to return today. I recalled the familiar scene of my mom lying on the couch, sometimes asleep, other times distracted by a good book or a TV show, mostly because she was overwhelmed by life and depressed. Now as a child, I didn't understand how exhausting motherhood can be and how important self care is. 

As I reflect on the scene, I see my mom through a different lense. I see her from the eyes of a fellow mom. I realize that reading a book, taking a nap, or watching tv aren't the problem. They could all potentially be wonderful forms of self care! So don't get hung up on the scene of a mother laying on the couch or of someone feeling depressed. Rather, focus with me on the concept of how often this is the case. How frequently, or for how long, is she feeling depressed? How often is she laying on the couch, disconnected from what's happening around her? 

This was my mom's normal. She was emotionally disconnected and oftentimes physically unavailable as well. My dad pitched in and did a lot, but unfortunately he was emotionally disconnected as well. Both of my parents didn't know how to regulate their own emotions, or help us kids with ours. They didn’t know how to notice us in our sadness and meet us there, to be with us in it, and then help us move through it back to a baseline of joy.

It wasn't that I was an unhappy child. Instead, I lived with a continual sadness. I might not have recognized my sadness as such, that is until I was older and wished my life would end. The misery within and the chaos without had taken its toll. You see, when something is our normal it may not feel odd. My sadness was perpetual. I didn't know I was capable of experiencing joy that wasn't manufactured or circumstantial. I didn’t realize that happiness could be typical!

I didn't know what it felt like to have a parent listen with a desire to get to know you, or to feel safe enough to share your secrets with them. Didn't everyone have parents who constantly changed their minds, backed out on plans, and weren't able to make decisions without doubting themselves? Feel safe to share what you really thought? I thought it was normal to be afraid. Self soothing? Wasn’t that an indicator of a child who had learned at a young age how to be independent and wasn’t that a good thing?

Now I know differently. I have children of my own. Children who come to me when they have no one else they feel safe enough to share their hearts with, pre-teens who depend on me, who still like it when I lay down with them at night and give them hugs throughout the day. They understand what it is to pitch in and help with chores; they also understand how it feels to have a mom and dad lovingly take care of their needs. To be a child who can share their emotions openly and not be met with the slap of a hand or the impact of a board across their bottom. It's a completely different reality, and I'm deeply grateful I can give them that. 

I am offering that to my inner child as well. Such as yesterday, noticing and responding to her needs. Letting her cry and acknowledging how sorry I was for her experiences (or lack of them.) I feel her pain and it moves me. I won't pass her by. I won't ignore her needs. I'll meet them alongside my children's needs. I'll be the comforting presence she has always deserved and desperately needed.

You deserve that too.