The calendar marks another Mother’s Day, and across social media, the digital air fills with a familiar chorus of tributes, perfect family photos, and heartfelt declarations of unconditional love. For many, this day is a beautiful, uncomplicated celebration of profound bonds. But for countless others, myself included, Mother’s Day arrives with a complex swirl of emotions—a bittersweet tapestry woven with threads of love, pain, longing, and often, an unspoken grief for what might have been. Today, I want to articulate why Mother’s Day is complicated—and that’s profoundly, unequivocally okay.
This isn’t a cynical take on a cherished holiday. Instead, it’s a quiet, radical reflection for those navigating strained, painful, or nontraditional relationships with their mothers, or with the very concept of motherhood itself. It’s an empathetic acknowledgment of the silent struggles that often accompany a day so publicly dedicated to an idealized bond.
The Unspoken Layers: When the Ideal Doesn’t Meet Reality
The Hallmark card version of Mother’s Day paints a picture of effortless, unconditional love, of perfect nurturing, of a bond that is inherently flawless. But human relationships, particularly those as foundational and complex as with a mother, are rarely so simple. They are messy, contradictory, and often deeply impacted by the unaddressed traumas and societal pressures passed down through generations.
- The Weight of Expectation: This day often brings with it an immense pressure to perform gratitude, to display affection, and to conform to a societal ideal of what a mother-child relationship should be. For those whose reality falls short of this ideal, the expectation can be isolating, painful, and deeply invalidating. It forces a performance of joy that doesn’t align with an individual’s lived emotional truth.
- A History of Hurt: For many, the maternal relationship is a landscape marked by unresolved conflicts, unmet needs, neglect, or even outright abuse. Trauma, particularly when inflicted by a primary caregiver, leaves deep, pervasive scars that impact every subsequent relationship and one’s core sense of self. Mother’s Day can then become a painful reminder of these wounds, a stark contrast between what one desires and what one received.
- Nuance Over Idealization: True understanding demands nuance. It means acknowledging that love can exist alongside hurt, that forgiveness is a complex process, and that not every biological bond is inherently nurturing or healthy. It means granting space for grief, anger, or ambivalence, rather than demanding blind positivity.
My Mother’s Love, My Lingering Pain: A Product of Trauma, Not a Pass for Harm
My own relationship with my mother is a profound example of this complexity, a testament to the fact that love, pain, and trauma can tragically coexist. I do love my mother. That love is real, enduring, and rooted in the shared history of our lives. My heart aches for her, for what she endured as a victim of sexual assault, and for the profound, lasting trauma that shaped her own life and choices. I understand, intellectually, that she’s a product of trauma too, that her own unprocessed pain and societal pressures often dictated her responses.
However, understanding the root cause of behavior doesn’t erase its impact. It doesn’t change the reality that, in crucial ways, she wasn’t a good mother to me. It doesn’t negate the pain of her choices. I carry the profound wound of her choosing my abusive stepfather over me, a choice that left me vulnerable and unprotected in my early childhood. And later, her stark absence, her silence, and her failure to reach out when I was kicked out of the house at 16 after being outed—those were devastating blows that left me adrift and deeply isolated.
To say “it’s not her fault, she’s a product of trauma too” is a compassionate truth, one I hold. But that empathy, that intellectual understanding, does not, and cannot, magically undo the harm, erase the emotional scars, or diminish the longing for the maternal protection and unconditional acceptance I deserved. It doesn’t change the reality that my basic needs for safety and belonging were not met by the very person who was supposed to provide them. That pain remains.
The Power of Chosen Family and Queer Kinship: Redefining Love and Care
It is precisely because biological bonds can be so profoundly complicated that the concepts of chosen family and queer kinship are not just comforting ideals; they are vital, life-sustaining realities. They are the constellations of connection that illuminate the darkest nights, offering profound love and care that often transcends the limitations of biology or societal expectation.
- Love Beyond Biology: For many in the LGBTQ+ community, chosen family is a matter of survival. When biological families reject or abandon their queer members (as happened to me), chosen family steps in, providing the unconditional love, unwavering support, and emotional nourishment that validates one’s existence. These bonds are forged in shared understanding, mutual acceptance, and a deliberate commitment to nurture each other’s well-being.
- Care Beyond Expectation: Chosen family members offer care that is not obligatory but deeply intentional. It’s the friend who picks you up when you’re kicked out, the companions who travel across the country with you through joy and upheaval, the partner who holds you tight when you cry, and who consistently makes you feel seen and loved. It’s the daily phone calls with Matthew, the laughter with Shelby and Melissa, the unwavering presence of Tasi—these are the acts of love that redefine family.
- Queer Kinship: Queer kinship, in particular, recognizes the shared experiences of marginalization, the unique challenges, and the radical joy of building community. It’s a collective understanding that creates deep bonds of empathy and solidarity, fostering environments where authenticity is not just tolerated but celebrated.
It’s Okay to Feel It All: Embracing the Complication
So, this Mother’s Day, if your heart feels a complex mix of emotions, know that it’s okay. It’s okay to:
- Love your mother while also acknowledging the pain she may have caused, or the ways she fell short.
- Grieve for the mother you needed but didn’t have, even if you have a mother who tried her best.
- Celebrate the maternal figures in your life who stepped up, whether they are aunts, grandmothers, mentors, chosen family members, or friends who provided that nurturing spirit.
- Prioritize your own peace and well-being, even if it means setting boundaries or creating distance from strained relationships.
Mother’s Day is not a simple holiday for everyone, and pretending it is only serves to invalidate the very real experiences of countless individuals. It’s a day that invites us to reflect on the complex tapestry of love, care, and family, reminding us that these bonds take many forms and are often forged in the fires of personal struggle and the profound beauty of human connection. My own complex relationship with my mother has, ultimately, deepened my appreciation for the unwavering, intentional love I now cultivate in my life. And for that, I am profoundly grateful.
What does Mother’s Day mean to you? How do you navigate complex family relationships during holidays? Share your thoughts below – let’s create space for all our truths.