Mothering Sunday

A day filled with flowers and chocolates, spa days and food…appreciating the mother figure, it’s a day dedicated to her and all she brings to the world.

Of course, this is the societal norm portrayal I’ve described above…reality is often different for many reasons, each an individual experience.

Arriving at the age of 50, mothering for 24 of those years, it’s fair to say that I’ve experienced a range of ‘Mothers Days’ — meals out, breakfast in bed, gifts, flowers, family walks, forgotten cards, hand-picked-authentic-made-for-me cards, homemade gifts — each one I’m grateful to have had.

Each one I am grateful to have had.

This one, today, is no exception.

Even though I’m sitting in a partial sulk, feeling 30% right and 70% silly.

I knew all week that it was myself and the boys today, S was having a sleepover and T was helping a friend, then picking her up at 5pm. I will be honest, I felt a little twinge of sadness that we were not all spending the day together, however, it subsided fairly quickly and all was well.

Until this morning.

I’ve woke with a tug in my tummy. I recognise it, when I feel (real or perceived) I’m low on others priority list, it triggers this physical feeling.

 Cutting to the heart of my story today — abandonment wounds and attachment styles — nervous system triggers(even the smallest ones), and how they can interrupt our minute to minute daily flow…significantly.

As soon as I open my eyes, I know he’s forgotten. It’s ok, I’m not his mummy, lol. At least that’s the inner dialogue trying to talk me round. “I’m late” is what he said as we make our way downstairs, greeted halfway by M thrusting a beautiful bunch of carnations towards me, “happy Mother’s Day, mum”. This kid picks great gifts.

Pleased that not everyone has forgotten, my faith is restored, Mother’s Day is saved 🤣

I plan to read and bathe, relax, binge watch something. Of course, executive dysfunction means I ruminate about doing those things, spending the majority of the day vacantly moving around the house in my pyjamas.

Around lunchtime, a turn of events means T is now free to head home, but our daughter is not…

Somehow it’s spiralled my afternoon, my thoughts and feelings in overdrive…

I mean surely if I was loved and appreciated, they would come home at 1pm instead of 5pm. 

Why would they not choose me…

You see where the spiral is going 🌀 

Thankfully, I’m able to connect with my awareness, ask why I’m feeling triggered…

Examine my feelings, question the spiral.

Loved. Appreciated. Chosen. 

Trauma responses intercept rational responses, often.

It helps to ask for proof that the trauma response is true, I find this one of the quickest ways to stop the spiral in its tracks.

Finally the bubble bath is ready.

I’m away in with a book 📕 

Happy Mother’s Day All x