I Do Not Like Mother’s Day

May is a rough month for me. Mother’s Day, my mother’s birthday, the anniversary of her memorial service, and a deep reminder of the loss of the possibility of something I never truly had - a real mother. And thus I renamed her Momster.

A few years ago I embarked on a project for the entire month of May with the intent of publishing a book called Reinventing My Mother. I started with old photos of her, wrote musings and essays and insights and attempted to edit the images in ways that transcended the sorrow of her life in order to heal her posthumously...and maybe myself by proxy. A quest to forgive and let go.

I’ve yet to publish it. It’s still high on my to-do list.

Today I’m sharing a few excerpts with you:

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“I Can Dance if I Want to” - Lisa L Peters ©️ 2015

Momster learned early in life how to compartmentalize herself. She could be in a room with many people and each and every one of them would experience and describe a completely different person. I’m certain this was a useful coping skill for her...up to a point. But in the end, her inability to grow beyond it kept her from every truly getting close to anyone. Including herself.

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”To Be Made of Light” - Lisa L Peters ©️ 2015

Momster was an extremely beautiful woman. But she felt ugly. She focused only on her outer beauty, cultivating it - harvesting it until it inevitably failed - and neglecting her inner light until it turned very dark.

Instead of being her true self - whom she seemed to loathe and fear - she spent her energy superficially seeking to be the best at everything. And she succeeded in many areas. But not in the ones that truly mattered. She was the most profoundly sad and lonely human I have ever known.

I now infuse her with the light I hope she has finally embraced.

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”You don’t see me...” - Lisa L Peters ©️ 2015

Momster wore many disguises. We all do. But hers were brilliantly executed. She had a way of slipping into any group of people, acclimating perfectly, even taking over. She’d take on the characteristics and interests of those she desired to get close to...especially men.

I hear women talk about losing themselves in relationships. But Momster concisely chose to shape-shift. From her clothes to her hobbies to her career, friends, priorities...and her hair.

Momster’s hair didn’t just change with the era or fashions, it perfectly matched the men in her life. Color, cut, length, and style. She hid masterfully beneath her hair, flawlessly playing whatever part was called for. Hoping it would finally win her the unconditional love she so desperately felt she needed.

Ironically Momster would never accept the love that was offered. It was never enough. The hole was just too deep, she was just too damaged. But I believe it’s far more complicated than that. By not being herself, Momster was not the one being loved. The roles she played, the disguises, the surfaces beneath which she hid...they were being loved. And so they eventually became targets of resentment and frustration. She couldn’t let people in if she wasn’t herself.

Momster was gathering evidence to prove her tragic lifelong hypothesis: “I am unlovable.” Yet in spite of this, so many people did love her throughout her life. And the more they did, the harder she drove them away.

I’ve taken a super groovy, highly chic photo of Momster and exposed the disguise in order to reveal the very lovable soul stubbornly hidden underneath.

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Thank you for spending a little time with me and Momster on this American Mother’s Day. If you’d like to see more, please upvote and comment. And stay tuned for my kickstarter. I’m going to get this book made!