When Mother's Day came around, I used to find myself blankly staring
at the cards on display at the drug store. I stood there puzzled by their
messages: "Thank you for always being there for me, Mom," said one;
"You've encouraged, inspired and believed in me," said another. I
knew many were corny, but I was scratching my head over something else. I
wondered, do people really feel this way about their moms?
Feeling obligated more than inspired, I'd eventually find the
perfect card for my mom. It usually had a lily or other flowery flower on the
front, and the message inside said nothing more than "Happy Mother's
Day." After a lifetime of longing for but not getting a mom who's
"always been there" and "encouraged, inspired and believed in
me," it would be the only card that made sense.
My relationship with my mom has been strained for as long as I
can remember. There were the standard abandonment issues and then the whammy of
all whammies when, at age 18, I inadvertently learned that my dad wasn’t my
biological father. But what hurt most has been her emotional inaccessibility. A
classic narcissist, she was only ever interested in herself and being the belle
of the ball. All eyes on her. She, and whatever fascinating thing she was working
on at the moment, were her favorite subjects. She would ramble on and on,
usually repeating herself, to whoever would listen.