A monthly advice column inspired by Neil, my dead therapist, who I knew for over 25 years. I share "Neil-isms" with you because they helped me get through life, relatively unscathed. My qualifications include being a woman in her late 50's who's lived through some shit and come out the other side--mostly intact. My degree in English doesn't really count, but my degree in life does.
Please submit your questions anonymously here. Be creative with your sign off if you are so inclined. If not, I’ll happily figure one out for you.
Dear Armchair Therapist,
I was left feeling lonely and unloved on Mother’s Day this year. My children are now adults and have families of their own, but how hard can it be to acknowledge me on this special day?
Not Feeling the Love
What would my therapist say? You alone are responsible for how you feel.
Dear Not Feeling the Love.
This is a tough pill to swallow, and I can understand why their inaction could hurt your feelings.
What I’m about to say is important, but hard to hear and even harder to acknowledge and understand: Our kids owe us nothing. The sooner we accept this reality the better off we’ll be as parents and people.
They are not responsible for our happiness. We are deluding ourselves if we think they are and setting ourselves up for disappointment. Especially as they grow up and have minds, opinions, and families of their own. Also, it’s an unfair burden to place on them. On anyone really.
Our best hope is they want to hang out with us every now and again, they’ll be there for us if/when we need them, and they live productive healthy, happy lives.
Our job is to raise them to the best of our abilities (given there’s no manual and many of us had shaky beginnings ourselves.) If we’ve done that and they are decent people (and yes, they can still be decent and kind people even if they didn’t acknowledge you on Mother’s Day), then we’ve done our job. Full stop.
🌸🌷🌸🌷🌸
I have three adult children of my own, a daughter and two sons. The boys in particular aren’t great about remembering occasions, as in, they don’t really make a point of acknowledging them, unless there’s a party and there’s an invitation which reminds them. Although now that they are having children of their own, that is slowly changing.
I used to get really upset if one of my kids didn’t show up for Thanksgiving dinner. If they so much as thought they might not come, I would throw the biggest guilt trip on them I could muster. I thought it was a reflection on me or our family. That they didn’t love me or appreciate our family the way I felt they should. The way I wanted them to.
This is where one of my most important lessons from Neil comes in. An “aha” moment, that hit me like a ton of bricks many years ago. And one I’m so grateful for.
Me: Neil, I’m doing everything for these kids, they are so lucky, I never had what they have, they should be grateful. Don’t they know how lucky they are?
Neil: No, they don’t. And why should they?
Me: Huh?
Neil: They didn’t ask to be born; they didn’t live your life. They’re doing what they’re supposed to do—be little kids. They don’t know any different. Your experience is not their experience, so why do you think they should ‘know’ how lucky they are? They are being loved and cared for. They are safe. That’s what all kids should expect from parents.
Me: <<Long pause. Bells clanging in my head.>>
Neil: Sit with that for a moment.
Me: Oh shit.
It was all about me.
Having children provided me with instant love and a sense of belonging I’d never felt before. I had my own family, it was mine. And I belonged. And as these little humans got bigger and had minds of their own, or didn’t like something or had a tantrum, I would take offence. I would be indignant with their ungratefulness. Don’t they know how hard I’m trying? How hard I’m working? For them!
No. No, they don’t.
My life with my children got much better once I fully understood this lesson from therapy. They are not responsible for how I feel, and they are not doing what they’re doing on purpose, they’re just being themselves.
I was projecting my childhood crap onto them. I was building a better life for them, but still living in the past in my own head.
These days, I tell my kids what I want and need from them. I don’t expect them to know. They are busy with their own lives. And that’s normal and to be expected. We communicate as adults, like you would with any adult.
🌸🌷🌸🌷🌸
Please know your kids love you and appreciate you, even if they didn’t show it on this manufactured day. Reach out to them and tell them how much you love and appreciate them and how happy you are you’re their mother. I’m sure you’ll be surprised at just how much they love and appreciate you right back. Even if they missed the big day.
Next Mother’s Day (or birthday), plan something special for yourself with your partner, or with other mom-of-adult-children friends, as you’re definitely not alone out there. Or tell your kids what you’d like for Mother’s Day. Perhaps it’s a day at the spa, or a picnic lunch at the park. Whatever you need for you, to make it special for you, make it happen.1
You got this! And Happy Belated Mothers’ Day! Sending you much love. And a virtual bouquet! 💐
Keep (un)Learning. KVB. Xo
SIDEBAR: There is a story going around this week of a mother posting a video about how she gave up everything for her six kids and none of them acknowledged her for Mother’s Day. She said they were a disappointment. And she posted it for the world to see on social media.
That is fucked up. (Pardon my language, but it got me riled up.)
She says she gave up everything for ‘those kids’ and sacrificed her career and life for them.
They didn’t wish her a Happy Mother’s Day…and they are a disappointment? Wow.
I could feel her pain and disappointment, but I also cringed at what message she was sending to her children. And her delivery. It was passive aggressive and mean.
They never asked her to make the sacrifices. She decided to have children, presumably because she wanted them. She made choices. Perhaps they are all strong, happy, independent human beings—which is what we all want for our kids! Perhaps they are self-centered and jerks, but kids are often selfish and self-centered—especially as young adults.
Or maybe, they’re tired of being made to feel guilty for all the sacrifices their mom made so they could be here. That’s a big burden to carry for anyone. IMO.
What say you?
What do you do when your kids disappoint you?
What are your expectations of your kids around holidays and birthdays? Do you tell them ahead of time, or are they good about knowing already?
Any additional advice you’d like to offer?
As I write this, I have the Miley Cyrus song looping in my head. Different situation, same principle applies.
I can buy myself flowers
Write my name in the sand
Talk to myself for hours, yeah
Say things you don't understand
I can take myself dancing, yeah
I can hold my own hand
Yeah, I can love me better than you can
"Our kids owe us nothing. The sooner we accept this reality the better off we’ll be as parents and people," is the soundest advice I've ever heard. Yes, we love them, yes they are incredible cosmic gifts, but they're were always (hopefully) going to grow into their own healthy, bright, independent people... We should wish full, rich lives for them... and perhaps be the red telephone should they ever have need? That's how I tend to look it... I want to be there when they need and for them to always know how proud I am, but never intruding because I want to respect their boundaries. xo
Agree with Neil. Great advice. Well said on every point.
My mom has very high expectations, not just with a long phone call but a fancy gift that she never appreciates. She also doesn't acknowledge that I'm a mom celebrating this day as well. Needless to say, I learned what not to do with my own kids. If I don't get a call or text I might check in with them. I don't expect any gift. In fact a few days before the manufactured (love that) holiday I texted them that all I wanted for mother's day was for them to tell me they are taking care of their mental, emotional, physical and spiritual health. My daughter answered with a loving note and my son didn't respond as he has been wicked busy at work. (He's not great with texts anyway.)