Mother’s Day Healing — The Mother Wound
- service90966
- May 10
- 15 min read

When Mother’s Day Hurts: A Tribute to the Unmothered, the Unheard, and the Unhealed
Live Well Live Whole™
Prologue: For the Ones Who Don’t Have the Words
This piece is a sacred offering, not a disruption.It’s not anti-Mother’s Day. It’s pro-humanity.
It’s for every adult walking around with a Mother’s Day card in their hand and a lump in their throat.It’s for the survivors of quiet grief and loud wounds who have felt erased by the collective performance of this holiday.
It’s for those whose love was tangled with pain, whose loyalty was laced with loss,and who are still learning how to hold the both/and of honoring a mother—and healing from her.
If you need permission to tell the truth, this is it.If you need space to breathe through the ache, this is it.If you’ve ever felt unseen on a day like this—This is for you.
Introduction: When Telling the Truth is a Radical Act
Telling the truth is not for the weak or the faint of heart.
Especially not when it comes to mothers.
We’re conditioned to go along with the performance. The cards. The brunches. The curated social media posts captioned “best mom ever.” There’s a script—and it’s expected that we all participate. But what happens when your lived experience doesn’t fit the script? When your mother wasn’t nurturing, but narcissistic? Not safe, but smothering? What if you were never allowed to have feelings, only roles and responsibilities? What if your role was to be invisible or to fulfill the emotional needs of others? What if the one who gave you life also gave you pain you’re still unpacking?
Mother’s Day can feel like emotional gaslighting for those of us who carry complex mother wounds. We’re told to honor, to be grateful, to remember the good—while the unspoken truth of our childhoods sits heavy in our chests.
This post is not about blame. It’s about breaking the silence. It’s about making room for all of us—not just the celebrated mothers, but the silenced daughters and sons. Not just the picture-perfect relationships, but the survivors of emotionally immature, abusive, or absent parenting.
Here’s to the mother in us all—the nurturer, the fierce protector, the steady hand we often needed but didn’t always get.
May you learn to mother yourself.To speak the unspeakable.To hold the both/and of love and pain, loss and gratitude.To tell your truth, even when the world would rather you perform someone else’s story.
And if you’ve had an extraordinary childhood—if your mother loved you well and made you feel seen—we celebrate you, too. We need your stories.Because they remind us that it’s possible. That there are hearts and souls who hold the blueprint for how to get it right.
You are the way-showers. The heart-menders.This isn’t about exclusion—it’s about inclusion. It’s about making space for every truth.So that we might develop an empathic heart and an attuned ear—especially when the stories shared don’t match our own.Even if they make us uncomfortable. Even if they make us grieve.
The Silent Epidemic: Understanding the Scope of Childhood Abuse and Neglect
Childhood abuse and neglect are pervasive issues with far-reaching consequences. While physical and sexual abuses are often reported and documented, emotional and psychological abuses frequently go unnoticed, leaving invisible scars that can last a lifetime.
U.S. and Global Child Abuse and Neglect
United States:
In 2022, approximately 558,899 children were victims of abuse and neglect in the United States, equating to 8 out of every 1,000 children.
Neglect is the most common form of maltreatment, accounting for 78.3% of cases, followed by physical abuse at 17.8%, and sexual abuse at 9.5%.
Emotional abuse, while harder to quantify, is reported by about 18% of the adult population, though it's likely underreported.
Approximately 63.9% of U.S. adults have experienced at least one Adverse Childhood Experience (ACE), with 16% experiencing four or more, increasing the risk for chronic health issues.
Global:
Globally, up to 1 billion children aged 2–17 years have experienced physical, sexual, or emotional violence or neglect in the past year.
Nearly 400 million children under 5 regularly endure psychological aggression or physical punishment at home.
The prevalence of psychological abuse is estimated at 39% worldwide.
Local Child Protective Services Statistics
Alameda County, CA:
In 2020, the rate of reported child abuse and neglect was 29.1 per 1,000 children. Kidsdata.org+1Kidsdata.org+1
Los Angeles County, CA:
As of 2022, there were 18,058 children in foster care placements, including foster family agency homes and small family homes.
Tragically, approximately 30 to 35 children die annually due to abuse in Los Angeles County, with 85% of victims under age five. Los Angeles County DCFS+1dcfs.illinois.gov+1Children's Hospital Los Angeles
New York City, NY:
In 2021, 44% of Black children, 43% of Latino children, and 19% of white children experienced a child welfare investigation.
Between fiscal years 2020 and 2023, there were 2,154 cases of substantiated neglect and/or abuse, involving more than 1,600 children. NYC Family PolicyNYC Comptroller's Office
Harris County (Houston), TX:
The substantiated child abuse rate in Harris County was 8.4 per 1,000 children in 2022. Houston State of Health+1PMC+1
Chicago, IL:
In fiscal year 2025, the Illinois Department of Children & Family Services reported 1,830 death and serious harm reports in the Northern Region, which includes Chicago. CW Outcomes+4dcfs.illinois.gov+4School of Social Work+4
Washington, D.C.:
In 2020, Washington D.C. had 15,509 total referrals for child abuse and neglect, with 3,897 screened in for CPS response.
There were 1,647 child victims of abuse or neglect in 2021, at a rate of 13.1 children per 1,000. Child Welfare League of America
The Unspoken Epidemic: Trafficking, Disappearances, and Child Homicide
While emotional and psychological abuses often go unnoticed, other forms of harm against children are equally pervasive and devastating.
Child Trafficking in the United States
In 2023, the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children (NCMEC) received over 18,400 reports of possible child sex trafficking. Among the more than 28,800 children reported missing, 1 in 6 were likely victims of child sex trafficking. Transportation.gov+1NCMEC+1
The U.S. Department of State's 2023 Trafficking in Persons Report highlighted that of the 2,264 foreign national children certified in FY 2022, 23% experienced sex trafficking, 73% experienced labor trafficking, and 4% experienced both. State+1State+1
Missing Children Statistics
An estimated 460,000 children are reported missing in the United States every year. Global Missing Kids
In 2024, NCMEC assisted with 29,568 reports of missing children. Of these, 23,160 were reports of children missing from foster or state care, with a 92% recovery rate. Law Enforcement+4NCMEC+4ICMEC+4
Child Homicide Trends
Homicide remains a leading cause of death among children in the U.S. JAMA Network
In 2020, Black children had a homicide rate of 6.8 per 100,000, significantly higher than the national average. Statista
These numbers reflect a systemic issue in how societies value and protect children. Emotional, verbal, and mental abuses often go unrecognized, yet they can be as damaging, if not more so, as physical harm. Moreover, removing children from abusive environments doesn't always equate to safety; many are placed in foster systems that may perpetuate more trauma and abuse.
The dynamics of mother-daughter and mother-son relationships can manifest differently:
Mother-Daughter: Issues may include enmeshment, competition, or emotional neglect, leading to challenges in self-worth and identity.
Mother-Son: Dynamics might involve emotional incest or over-reliance, impacting future relational patterns and emotional regulation.
Factors such as poverty, substance abuse, and mental health concerns further complicate these relationships, making the journey toward healing a daunting, yet essential, endeavor.
A Front Row Seat to Our Collective Failure
There are, of course, more horrific offenses—things we won’t go into here. Some stories don’t need to be retold. But I’ve sat with them. I've held them. I’ve had to deal with aftermath feeling powerless and hoping that I could bring some restoration in my limited role. That I could plant seeds of healing that could be harvested later.
As a former Child Welfare Worker, and later moving into Behavioral Health within county services, I had a front row seat to the worst of what adults can do to children—and the even more disturbing ways systems respond. Or don’t.
And when we also factor in the “-isms” of our society—racism, classism, ableism, sexism—we begin to see how deeply our systems prioritize the value of some children over others. Which children are humanized.Whose pain is taken seriously.Which stories get resourced, and which ones get buried.
I have come to know that the system isn’t broken.It’s a mirror.A reflection of the values held by governance and leadership followed by social buy in—and how we, as a culture, decide whose humanity is worth protecting.
You stop being shocked after a while. Not because you’re desensitized, but because you start to see the pattern:That our society doesn’t know how to value children unless they serve a function—unless there’s a condition, a transaction, or a performance attached. That protection is often performative and propagandized.
We have billboards, hotlines, agencies, and services—plastered everywhere like bandaids on a bullet wound. But when we need or try to access these services plastered publicly, either the qualification criteria is so stringent that it’s useless. That there is no continuity or comprehensive care. That we don’t want to address the root of our issues, just the short term symptoms. That when we say “children are resilient,” we are really saying, “We expect them to survive anything without repair.”
I’ve seen children removed from violent homes, only to be placed into equally if not exceedingly toxic environments.I’ve seen the look in a child’s eyes when trust collapses.I’ve seen the lifetime of unraveling that begins when a mother wounds instead of nurtures.
I’ve seen mothers put their children through hell in the most formative years of their lives—and then refuse even a moment of reflection. No apology. No acknowledgment.Just flippant dismissals:“I did the best I could.”“You should be happy I even had you.”
But the wound isn’t just about what happened.It’s about what never happened.The repair.The reckoning.The truth.
Every child wants their mother.Even when she’s dangerous. Even when she’s broken.
And that bond—when it’s used as a weapon or withheld entirely—becomes a wound that echoes across generations.
And here is the truth we so often overlook:
Mothers were once babies, too.
How they were mothered—or not mothered at all—shapes everything.The unhealed child in the mother becomes the wounded mother to her own child.
And when no one is looking… when no one is there to perform for… the truth of who we are reveals itself.
How can you love what came from you, when you don’t love—or even like—yourself?
The way we treat children behind closed doors—with our unchecked trauma, our hunger for control or validation, our desperation—creates fractures.Fractures in the psyche.Fractures in the soul.
And that damage outlives childhood- the fractures, bruises and tears. Every time.
“We cannot change what we refuse to acknowledge. And we cannot heal as a culture until we ask harder questions about how we hold, value, and protect children—not just in theory, but in practice.”
When Love Feels Like Labor: The Performance and Pain of Daughterhood
There’s a gospel song my mother used to play. Shirley Caesar’s “No Charge. It started off talking. Typically not a good sign for these kind of storytelling sermonettes.
For the 9 months I carried you growing inside of me, no chargeFor the nights I sat up with you doctored you and prayed for you, no chargeFor the time and tears and the costs through the years, there is no chargeWhen you add it all, up the real cost of my love is no charge
The lyrics rang out—a weapon of emotional manipulation and control, wrapped in melody and rhythmic sermonette when my mother played it. It was originally meant to be a tribute. But to me, it felt like a ledger. An ongoing debt that would never be forgiven. One of many. And I used to say—quietly, under my breath, sometimes aloud, and sometimes only in my heart—“But what about the children?”
Because the song never made space for the child’s humanity. It didn’t ask what kind of love was offered after the labor. It didn’t account for childhood development. It didn’t reckon with the emotional debts collected through silence, shame, or control.
While she was alive, I did all the things a “good daughter” was supposed to do. Hornblower Yacht brunches. Flowers. Cakes. Trips. Gifts. Year after year, I tried to offer something new—some grand gesture that might open a door, soften the tension, make her feel seen… and maybe create peace and ease. But the response was always the same: flat. Expected. Entitled. And every year, I left with a hollow ache, wondering why it never felt like enough. Because it never was. Or better yet, why it was never appreciated but more so demanded.
Not because my gifts lacked value—but because what I needed, and what she couldn’t give, was never for sale at the florist or the brunch buffet even it the it was The Claremont Hotel or some other high end inflated price for the day type venue.
My mother passed over a decade ago, but the grief didn’t die with her. It changed shape. The wounds became quieter in some areas and more pronounced in others, but no less deep. Her death put a period at the end of our relationship—no more possibility of repair, no more hope for a better "next year." No more hope for apologies, acknowledgement or wiping the slate clean. No more now.
And the truth is—I didn’t need an apology as much as I needed her recognition of my humanity and reciprocity of care and concern.
I needed to know: Can we move forward? Can we be kind? Can we build something different now?
But she didn’t want to enter the space of possibility. She refused to shift the dynamic. Not for lack of communication. Not for lack of clarity. I said the things. I named the hurt. I opened the door. She chose not to walk through. Perhaps she just wasn’t emotionally capable? But it seemed specific to me. She had empathy and could feel the pain and cry tears for everyone else. Just not me. In her mind, I had a “good life” and the unspoken was ‘as compared to her’. How dare I complain. How dare I have hurt. How dare
I see fault in her.
Her mentality was simple, and devastating: You’re mine. I gave birth to you. That gives me the right.”
Even when I was a grown woman—working, living, surviving without asking anything from anyone—she still treated me like property. Her daughter. Her possession. Her entitlement. Her handmaiden.
And what hurt more than the words were the silent undercurrents: The sometimes subtle but other times overt digs. The competition I never signed up for. Not the kind where she outshined me—but the kind where she tried to diminish me. As if my growth threatened her identity. As if my light made hers dim.
It was manipulative. Self-centered. Destabilizing. A constant dance of undermining, minimizing, and invalidating—A game of emotional tug-of-war where I was always losing something I hadn’t agreed to play for.
This is the grief that doesn't fit inside a Hallmark card. The grief of being loved transactionally, conditionally. The grief of never getting to be just a daughter—without performance, without punishment. I had to develop strong boundaries. I learned I had to disregard the mother aspect of the relationship to protect myself against the woman.
Reclaiming the Mother Within
At some point, we come to realize the mother we needed may never arrive. Not in flesh. Not in apology. That realization cracks something open. And from that crack, something else is born: the recognition that we have to give to ourselves what we didn’t receive. If there is a wound or a void – it is our to heal and to fill.
The one who sees us. Who holds our heartbreak without rushing us to "be strong."Who nurtures without control. Who teaches without shame. Who whispers, “You are deserving of love, wholeness and healing.”
Reclaiming the mother within isn’t a rejection of our birth mothers. It’s a radical act of repair. It’s how we tend to the unmet needs that still live in us—the five-year-old who never got comforted, the twelve-year-old who got blamed, the adult who is still performing perfection for a woman who couldn’t offer protection.
We learn to mother ourselves in the ways we were never mothered.
That may look like:
1 Setting boundaries with those who only know how to take.
2 Choosing truth over tradition.
3 Giving ourselves permission to grieve what never was—not just who we lost.
4 To remove ourselves from performative relationships.
And in doing so, we free ourselves from the myth. We write new scripts. We stop bleeding on every holiday or gathering that asks us to pretend.
A Blessing for the Un-mothered Heart
To the ones whose mothers refused to change, Who heard your words but hardened, Who demanded loyalty without offering love— I see you.
To the ones who kept showing up, kept hoping this time would be different, kept buying the brunch, the cake, the card, while your heart stayed hollow— I see you.
To those whose mothers have passed, but the grief is complicated, unfinished, layered with love and longing, pain and pride— You are not wrong for how you feel.
This is a blessing for your boundary. For the sacred line you drew to protect your spirit when the very one who birthed you refused to see your full humanity.
This is a blessing for your clarity—For the knowing that love without accountability is not love.That you are not a possession. That you are allowed to outgrow the cage you were born into.
This is a blessing for the mother in you— The one who rose from the ashes, Who learned to soothe herself, Who speaks to her inner child in the voice she needed but never heard.
May this Mother’s Day be what you need it to be. A day of truth. A day of tenderness. A day of radical self-recognition.
Journal Prompt:
What do I need to mother in myself today?
· Is it permission to rest?
· Is it the courage to grieve?
· Is it the truth that my pain is valid, even if no one else ever names it?
· Write from the voice of the mother you wish you had. What would she say to you today?
Call to Action:
If this spoke to something in you, you’re not alone.
Share this with someone who needs permission to feel everything this Mother’s Day brings. Take a moment today to nurture yourself the way you’ve always deserved. Leave a comment or message sharing one way you’re reclaiming your story.
Because healing happens in truth-telling. And Mother’s Day doesn’t belong only to those who were mothered well. It belongs to the survivors, the breakers of cycles,the ones building new legacies from broken ground.
Ways to Mother Yourself When You Were Not Mothered Well
Emotional Nurturing
Speak to yourself with gentleness—out loud.
Validate your feelings, especially the hard ones.
Cry without apology. Let tears have space.
Say: “You are allowed to feel that way.”
Write letters to your inner child and read them aloud.
Make time for therapy, support groups, or sacred conversations that hold you gently.
Protection
• Set a boundary and keep it—even if it makes someone uncomfortable.
• Block or mute voices (online or in real life) that consistently harm or drain you.
• Say no without guilt or over-explaining.
• End conversations that belittle or gaslight you.
• Create a “no contact” or “low contact” policy if needed, and honor your peace above performance.
Physical Comfort
• Nourish yourself with food that feels good to your body and spirit.
• Make your bed in a way that feels like a nest.
• Wrap yourself in a blanket, just because.
• Rest without earning it.
• Move your body not to punish it—but to thank it.
• Take a long, hot shower and let it wash off the day.
Spiritual Mothering
• Light a candle and say a prayer or affirmation to your younger self.
• Create an altar with photos, affirmations, or objects that remind you of your resilience.
• Journal with prompts that bring truth, not just positivity.
• Read sacred texts that affirm your dignity—whatever tradition or path you walk.
• Go to nature and let it hold you. Trees mother too.
Creative & Joyful Expression
• Dance to a song you loved as a child.
• Color, draw, or paint—without judgment.
• Write your own lullaby or poem.
• Bake something with love for yourself.
• Revisit old dreams. Begin one. Even in a small way.
Reparenting the Mind
• Speak affirmations that undo old messages: “I am enough. ”“I am allowed to take up space.” “I don’t owe anyone my silence.”
• Read books about healing family trauma, emotional neglect, and inner child work.
• Name the lies you inherited—and write your own truth beside them.
• Unfollow people and pages that make you feel unworthy or invisible.
Building New Family (Chosen or Spiritual)
• Let someone show up for you, even if you’re not used to it.
• Say yes to sisterhood. Say yes to softness.
• Join communities that affirm your growth.
• Share your story in a circle where truth is honored and not judged.
Relational Re-Mothering
• Cultivate relationships with people you identify to be safe, appropriate, and aligned. Seek out those whose character, presence, or way of being resonates with you—not just in words, but in action and consistency.
• Let others show you new templates for love. Let them model what care, listening, and respect can look like.
• Spend time with people who don’t drain you—who leave you feeling more whole, not less.
• Allow yourself to receive help, affirmation, or affection without guilt.
• Release relationships that echo old harm. You are no longer required to keep what breaks you.
You don’t have to do all of these. Start with one. One gentle act that says: “I see you, baby. I got you now.”
References
5 National Children's Alliance. (2022). National Statistics on Child Abuse. Retrieved from https://www.nationalchildrensalliance.org/media-room/national-statistics-on-child-abuse/
6 Wikipedia. (n.d.). Mandatory reporting in the United States. Retrieved from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mandatory_reporting_in_the_United_States
7 National Center for Biotechnology Information. (2020). Prevalence of Emotional Abuse. Retrieved from https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC7589986/
8 San Francisco Chronicle. (2024). Adverse Childhood Experiences and Stress. Retrieved from https://www.sfchronicle.com/opinion/openforum/article/adverse-childhood-experiences-stress-20313209.php
9 World Health Organization. (2020). Violence Against Children. Retrieved from https://www.who.int/news-room/fact-sheets/detail/violence-against-children
10 UNICEF. (2020). Nearly 400 million young children worldwide regularly experience violent discipline. Retrieved from https://www.unicef.org/press-releases/nearly-400-million-young-children-worldwide-regularly-experience-violent-discipline
11 National Center for Biotechnology Information. (2022). Prevalence of Psychological Abuse. Retrieved from https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9722678/
12 Kidsdata.org. (2020). Reports of Child Abuse and Neglect in Alameda County. Retrieved from https://www.kidsdata.org/table/127/alameda-county/1/reported-abuse Kidsdata.org+1Kidsdata.org+1
13 Los Angeles County Department of Children and Family Services. (2023). Child Welfare Services Data. Retrieved from https://dcfs.lacounty.gov/wp-content/uploads/2023/02/Factsheet-CY-2022.pdf Los Angeles County DCFS
14 Children's Hospital Los Angeles. (n.d.). Child Abuse - Audrey Hepburn CARES Center. Retrieved from https://www.chla.org/general-pediatrics/child-abuse-audrey-hepburn-cares-center Children's Hospital Los Angeles
15 Family Policy NYC. (2024). Where to Find Data on Investigations in NYC. Retrieved from https://familypolicynyc.org/explainer/investigations2024/ NYC Family Policy
16 New York City Comptroller. (2024). Audit Report on the Administration for Children's Services. Retrieved from https://comptroller.nyc.gov/reports/audit-report-on-the-administration-for-childrens-services-monitoring-of-the-safety-of-children-in-foster-care/ NYC Comptroller's Office
17 Houston State of Health. (2022). Substantiated Child Abuse Rate in Harris County. Retrieved from https://www.houstonstateofhealth.com/indicators/index/view?indicatorId=10 Houston State of Health
18 Illinois Department of Children & Family Services. (2025). Six-Year Statistics on Child Protective Services. Retrieved from https://dcfs.illinois.gov/content/dam/soi/en/web/dcfs/documents/about-us/reports-and-statistics/documents/ess-protective-services.pdf dcfs.illinois.gov
19 Child Welfare League of America. (2023). Washington D.C.'s Children. Retrieved from https://www.cwla.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/Washington-DCs-Children.pdf Child Welfare League of America+1Child Welfare League of America+1
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