For as long as I can remember, I have struggled with birthdays, Christmas… basically any type of celebration. My own birthday has always been particularly difficult. I usually have some kind of meltdown at some point and I’ve never really understood why – until recently. I think it’s to do with despite loved ones trying to make me feel special it was never enough because they weren’t her. And you know how it is, you often get mothers remembering the exact time their child was born and although I know that time, I’ve not had mine around to remind me of the ‘agony’ I caused her for hours on end that special day! As the old cliche goes ‘there’s no love like a mother’s love’. Instead of being happy and celebrating my life I have been mourning the loss of hers. But as hard as it is to accept, I still have my life and I deserve to enjoy it and feel special on my birthday. As well as that, those close to me shouldn’t have to tread on egg shells worried about my reactions. So, this year that’s exactly what I did and for the first time in years I thought of my mum on my birthday and I smiled. I thought about how much she loved me and how happy she (hopefully) was on my birth day.
I recently read on another blog ‘until they died, they lived’. This is so true. Instead of feeling sad and angry I have started trying really hard to remember her life, not her death. Otherwise what was the point of her 39 years on this earth? Until she died, she lived.
I’ve had a really positive week or so. Long may it continue.
Mother without a mother. 