Isn’t It Nice to Have a Mother?
I write this poem to share a thought—

A reminder, perhaps, to offer extra kindness today.
Because not all mothers gave hugs,

Or left kisses along the way.

I had a mother who was my first bully—

The first to teach me to chase a love.

That was never mine to hold.

She taught me that love had to be earned,

That I needed to prove I was worthy of it.


The cost?

Low self-esteem, people-pleasing,

And a hunger for validation
In exchange for love she rarely chose to give.

She resented in me the traits she had been taught to hate in herself—


And now I see them,

 Reflected in my own insecurities,

In the body I’ve grown into,

In the weight I carry,
both seen and unseen.

Not all mothers are kind.

Not all are gentle.
Some are neglectful.

Some are cruel, 
In more ways than one.

So if I seem quiet today—
If I hold back on a day meant for celebration—

Please understand:
 It reminds me of the mother I did not have.

And of the mother I hope one day to become.