How to Stay Sane on Mother’s Day (If Your Mom Was the Problem)

You know what absolutely sucks when you have a shitty parent?
A whole holiday dedicated to celebrating them.

If your mom was emotionally volatile, manipulative, checked out, or just plain mean—Mother’s Day isn’t sweet. It’s not healing. It’s not even neutral.
It’s a punch to the gut.

It’s suffocating. It’s laced with guilt and drenched in unspoken pressure to perform and pretend.
It’s watching everyone else post flowery tributes to their “best mom ever” while you’re over here trying to decide if you need a nap, a rage cry, or to chuck your phone into a lake.

So let’s just say this out loud:

You don’t have to celebrate someone who only loved you when it worked for them—and tore you down when it didn’t.

You are not heartless.
You are not ungrateful.
You are not a bad daughter, son, or child.

You’re just done being the emotional punching bag. Good for you.

Mother’s Day is complicated as hell when your actual childhood was spent tiptoeing around someone else’s big emotions, suppressing your own needs, or getting gaslit for daring to speak up. When the person the world says you should be grateful to is the one who caused most of your emotional damage? That’s not a day of celebration—it’s survival.

So let me remind you, you're allowed to be:

• F*cking angry

• Grieving the mom you never had

• Relieved she’s no longer in your life

• Feeling weirdly guilty even though you know better

• Deeply sad, confused, and maybe a little numb

It’s all allowed. Seriously.

Whatever messy cocktail of emotions is coming up today—it belongs.

I also know big feelings feel scary, bad, and wrong. But, remember-feelings were never the problem.
It’s the way your mom weaponized hers, ignored yours, and made you responsible for her emotional state—that’s what did the damage.

So please, let’s be very clear about what you don’t have to do today:

• You don’t have to pick up the guilt trip call

• You don’t have to like the “best mom ever” performative BS on your feed

• You don’t have to pretend your mom was anything other than who she really was

• And you absolutely do not have to force yourself to “be grateful” for the trauma you crawled through just because she is your mother

You’re allowed to mute.
You’re allowed to disappear from social media for the day.
You’re allowed to sit in silence, or cry, or laugh, or feel nothing.

Instead of forcing yourself to conform to a day that was never made for people like us, try this:

• Celebrate yourself for surviving her

• Do one damn thing today that makes you feel safe

• Mute every account that makes you feel like sh*t

• Take up space in your own story—because this day isn’t just for moms. It can be for the ones who broke the cycle, too.

And if you’ve gone no-contact or low-contact with your mom, you don’t owe anyone an explanation.

Not your family.
Not the internet.
Not the voice in your head still carrying her guilt and shame.

You don’t owe her a call.
You don’t have to show up to brunch.
You don’t have to prove that your trauma is valid.
You don’t need to perform healing to make anyone else comfortable.

You owe yourself peace.
And when you have a mother like this, that peace isn’t going to fall into your lap—it comes from choosing yourself over all the ridiculous expectations. Over the pressure. Over the lies.

And in case no one else says this to you today:

If your mom only loved you when it made her feel good…
If she treated you like a therapist, a scapegoat, or a doormat…
If she shamed you for having needs, boundaries, or feelings…

You. Are. Not. The. Problem.
She is.

You’re the one doing the work.
You’re the one who got out.
You’re the one breaking the cycle that’s been handed down for generations.

And honestly? That deserves a standing ovation.

So no—you don’t have to pretend today.
You don’t have to slap on a smile or fake your way through a meal.
And you sure as hell don’t have to celebrate someone who never showed up for you in the ways you needed most.

You’re the adult now.
You get to decide what this day means.
And you get to protect your peace like your life depends on it—because maybe it does.

And if it feels hard? That makes sense.
This work is hard. It’s heavy. But it’s yours. And you’re doing it.

I’m proud of you, and I'm proud of myself. We're choosing to do the work. We're choosing a healthier future.

You’re not alone in this.