Mother’s Day Survival Guide

OP: Mother’s Day 2019

MOTHER’S DAY SURVIVAL GUIDE (for those who suffer on this day):
1. Decide on your plan early, or now.

2. Disengage from media, social media, technology contact, and stay away from anywhere brunch-y. If you must engage or brunch, make an after-care plan. Also, feel free to use the restroom as long as you want, as frequently as you need to, as your personal bat cave. You may also “accidentally” drop your phone in the toilet.

3. Tell a few safe friends that you might need some support, and ask them to reach out to you. If you know how they can support you, tell them. If you don’t, then say “I’d like your support but I don’t know what that means yet.”

4. Breathe, eat, and tackle projects that involve digging, de-icing, or other two-handed manual labor. If this is not possible, attempt to learn everything about plumbing or Saturn via podcast.

5. Locate a place to throw metaphorical (or literal) rocks. For me this is a yoga class, but also good places are organized opportunities to help those whose luck is not so good these days, or anywhere that could use a good weeding.

**You do not have the right to poop on this day for others who might enjoy it. Your experience is valid, but that does not give you the right to snarl out of spite, only self-preservation.

1. Do not meme them. Repeat. Do. Not. Meme. (unless their request for support specifically requests memes of Patrick Swayze or cats or fart jokes)

2. Do not complain about your experience of motherhood as a way to distract from their hurt, (even if yours is horrific and excruciating) without permission to be in solidarity.

3. Show up to support in rage-weeding, fence post digging, or intergalactic educations. Bring snacks, like cupcakes and green juice. Do not ask questions. Just be.

4. Send messages like this: “No need to reply, just thought of you and wanted to let you know I’m a phone call or text away & I’m on your team.”

5. Celebrate in your way, in your own time, without needing the involvement of the affected person. Enjoy your day, and don’t waste a second of it paying for my grief with your guilt or loss for words.

*There aren’t words. That’s the thing sometimes.

A black and white photo of the author leaning on her elbow with her computer keyboard in the foreground

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