Real Truth - Not Everyone Wants To Celebrate Mother's Day - and That’s Okay

This raw post explores the impact of the Mother Wound, generational trauma, and why choosing distance can be an act of healing.

As Mother’s Day approaches, a familiar heaviness returns. The greeting card aisles fill with pastel pinks, florals, and glittery “I love you’s” that echo a narrative I’ve never quite been able to relate to: that we should all honour our mothers with unconditional gratitude, simply because they gave us life.

But what if the one who gave you life also gave you your deepest wounds?

What if “Happy Mother’s Day” feels like a betrayal - to your truth, your story, your healing?

This post is for the women who feel conflicted, unseen, and even angry on a day that glorifies a relationship that was never safe or nurturing. It’s not about blame. It’s about truth. About naming the pain that so many of us carry quietly because society says “but she’s your mother.”

For me, this day brings a tidal wave of memories and realisations - some I’ve only just begun to acknowledge. And as I deepen my healing journey, especially through the lens of the Mother Wound and the work of Dr. Nicole LePera (@the.holistic.psychologist), I’ve begun to understand that the guilt, rage, shame, and grief I carry didn’t start with me - but healing can.

Here’s what I’ve learned.

The Mother Wound Runs Deep

Dr. LePera describes six relationship patterns born from the Mother Wound: over-explaining, hyper-responsibility for others' emotions, accepting breadcrumbs of energy because your mother withdrew her love, chronic validation seeking because her love was conditional, body shame, and hyper-independence.

Each one hit me like a mirror - revealing patterns I've lived by without ever realizing they were coping mechanisms formed from childhood and trauma.

I’ve spent years trying to be heard, overexplaining myself in conversations, business, and relationships - hoping someone would finally “get me.” I’ve monitored moods, smoothed conflicts, and shrunk myself to keep the peace. I’ve accepted the bare minimum in relationships, thinking love had to be earned and could be withdrawn at any moment.

And perhaps most painfully, I’ve spent years hating my body - shame rooted not just in abuse and silence, but in how my mother treated her own body. I watched her restrict, self-criticize, binge, and pretend not to care, and I internalized every bit of it.

Our mothers teach us how to treat ourselves, not always with words - but through behavior, body language, energy, and absence.

Generational Trauma Isn’t an Excuse - But It Is an Explanation

From my memory growing up, I perceived mother didn’t have a loving mother either. She was shaped by scarcity, emotional neglect, and societal expectations of what a “good woman” or “good mother” should be. She did what she could, and yes, she sacrificed a lot. But understanding the “why” doesn’t undo the “what.” It doesn’t erase the imprint of trauma from my nervous system or undo the years I spent believing I was unlovable.

Sometimes, the trauma isn’t in what happened - it’s in what didn’t. The hugs not given. The birthday forgotten. The emotional connection that never came. The praise that was so desperate sort after but just out of reach.

What I know is, I can hold compassion for her story and still feel the grief of not having had the mother I needed.

Grieving the Mother You Wish You Had

One of Dr. LePera’s posts struck me to my core: “Nobody talks about grieving the mother you wish you had.” The longing never quite leaves. It morphs into guilt, into the ache of what might have been. You try again and again to connect. To give the benefit of the doubt. To show up and do the right thing.

Until one day, for your own emotional safety, you stop because you realise that the loving mother daughter relationship will never eventuate.

You step back. You take space. And the world tells you you’re heartless, ungrateful, dramatic. “But she’s your mother.” That’s when the guilt and shame hits you – and it’s not gentle or subtle, it’s harsh and hurtful and hits you to your core.

But here’s what I’ve come to understand: choosing distance is sometimes the most loving thing you can do - for yourself.

Choosing Self-Love Over Social Conditioning

I bought my mother a Mother’s Day card this year.

I won’t be sending it.

Not out of hate. But because pretending would be out of alignment with who I am becoming. And I refuse to lie to myself to make others more comfortable. I’ve spent decades doing that.

This year, I’m choosing self-honouring. I’m choosing to spend the day with the people I truly love - my sons, my sister, and her children. We’re breaking generational cycles, not with perfection, but with presence. With hugs. With emotional availability. With the willingness to do things differently.

Mother’s Day doesn’t have to be about flowers and forced affection. It can be about healing. About truth. About honouring the journey of the mother you’re becoming as you heal, despite the mother you didn’t have.

If You’re Feeling This Too, You’re Not Alone

If you feel like Mother’s Day is a slap in the face, you’re not broken.

If the idea of calling your mum sends your nervous system into overdrive, honour your own emotional safety and don’t call.

If you’ve had to mourn the idea of who she could’ve been and let go of the fantasy in order to finally be free – know how courageous you are.

It’s not your fault.

And you’re not alone.

What Now?

You get to write your own story. You get to choose how you mother - yourself, your children, your inner child.

You get to set boundaries.

You get to love fiercely without losing yourself.

You get to say “no more” to toxic patterns and “yes” to your healing.

Motherhood doesn’t automatically earn someone a pedestal. Presence does. Love does. Emotional safety does.

So, if you're spending this weekend crying, breathing through a wave of grief, or choosing to go no-contact - know this:

You are worthy for having the feelings that are yours. You are healing. And you are loved.

From one woman doing the work to another, happy self-honouring day.

Categories: : Authentically You, Self Healing