Healing from a Mother Wound on Mother’s Day
Less than a week ago, I overheard the lady in front of me in a queue talking about it being "Mother's Day" on Sunday (UK). My mother wound is now a smoothed-over scar—something I can look at and appreciate rather than feel sad about. I’ve never put much weight on holidays like Mother’s Day, birthdays, or Christmas. But this conversation got me thinking—do I feel this way because I grew up in a family shaped by trauma and abuse?
Lately, I’ve been reflecting on this a lot. Fifty years of running—from abuse, from toxic people, from the damage left behind. I don’t believe in coincidences; I believe in alignment. And life has a way of bringing back the same lessons, the same people, until we finally learn.
Mother’s Day Without the Guilt
Back to Mother’s Day and all that jazz. My grown-up kids know I rarely know what day it is, so they don’t feel any pressure to shower me with gifts. They know I love them. I know they love me. We don’t need a special day to prove it—we just appreciate each other as we are, all the time. A far cry from my upbringing, where guilt and obligation forced me to acknowledge Mother’s Day- even when my heart wasn’t in it.
I always knew, deep down, that my mother had an undiagnosed mental health disorder. She could be loving one moment and so cruel the next—you never knew which version of her you’d get. In the last two decades of her life, she was unrecognisable from the mother I once knew as a child.
The Struggle of Choosing a Mother’s Day Card
I used to spend ages searching for the “right” Mother’s Day card. She read every word carefully, so I had to strike a delicate balance—something that hinted at love but didn’t betray my inward feelings. A blank card would have been too obvious and exposed me, but anything too sentimental felt like I was telling a lie. I imagine other daughters of narcissistic mothers know this struggle all too well.
And yet, I knew she craved love. She was damaged by the generations of her family trauma that had shaped and sickened her mind. But for me, it was too late. The damage was done. I couldn’t force myself to love her the way she needed. Writing these words now, I feel the weight of that truth. It’s painful to admit, but it’s real.
Breaking the Cycle for Our Children
It feels like such a waste of love. And yet, it wasn’t. I stored it all up like a deep well, pouring it into our beautiful children. Now grown, we talk openly about family abuse and the effects of trauma. Even though I tried hard to protect them, I see how some of it still spilled over into their lives. Trauma doesn’t just disappear. But if we’re willing to look, we can learn so much and transform. We can hold ourselves up to the light and examine all our behaviours instead of projecting the blame outwards.
Oh, the damage we do without realising—because facing ourselves is the hardest thing of all. But here we are, evolving, becoming, paying attention. Healing, not just for ourselves but for the generations before us who never had the chance—and for the ones yet to come.
That, more than any card or holiday, is the greatest gift we can give to our lineage.
Lisa Precious is the founder of SmileyBlue a publication dedicated to helping people reach their full potential and discover the right path for their lives. Our content expands from conscious mentoring to emotional healing and in-depth discussions on how your mind and body are the most powerful assets in your life. Please feel free to contact her at contact@smileyblue.org
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