Mother’s Day: A Celebration, a Crossroads, and an Invitation to Heal

Brandon Joffe, LCSW
May 11
3 min read

Updated: May 13

Mother’s Day is a beautiful day. At its best, it’s a moment to pause and honor one of the most sacred, demanding, and transformative roles in the world—motherhood.

For many people, this day is filled with warmth and gratitude. They get to celebrate the mothers who loved them well, sacrificed deeply, and stayed present through both the chaos and the calm. And that kind of love absolutely deserves to be honored.

I’ve been lucky to witness that kind of motherhood up close. My partner is one of the most intuitive, grounded, and emotionally present mothers I’ve ever seen. Her capacity to nurture her kids while holding boundaries, showing grace, and keeping perspective — it’s humbling. It’s a steady love that doesn’t require attention but deserves deep respect.

My own mom is one of the smartest, most loving, most grounded people I’ve ever encountered. Her strength, insight, and ability to love consistently through every season of my life didn’t just shape me—they built me. I owe a great deal of who I am to her.

For people like me, Mother’s Day can feel full and life-giving. But I’m also aware that’s not everyone’s experience. In fact, for many people, this day is one of the hardest on the calendar.

Mother’s Day has a shadow side.

For some, it brings up grief.

Some are mourning the loss of a mother.
Others have lost a child, either physically or relationally.
Some are estranged from their mom, carrying the weight of what could have been.
Others are mothers themselves, trying to navigate broken connections, unspoken pain, or unmet expectations.
Some people want to be mothers but can’t.
People trying to parent in complicated, high-conflict co-parenting situations.
And people who have mothers still living, but who never truly “showed up” for them.

These stories don’t always appear on Instagram and rarely make it into Hallmark cards, but they’re just as real and matter just as much.

I’ve had clients tell me they avoid social media on Mother’s Day because all the picture-perfect posts feel like salt in a wound. Others have confessed they feel guilty for not wanting to reach out to their mom, not because they don’t care, but because the pain runs too deep.

I try to help people understand that Mother’s Day isn’t just a celebration — it’s a crossroads.

Yes, for some, it’s a time to honor and appreciate incredible women. But for others, it can be a powerful opportunity to reflect, grieve, forgive, or let go.

Sometimes Mother’s Day invites us to lean in and repair something broken.
Other times, it’s a day to accept what we cannot change and choose peace anyway.
And sometimes, it’s both.

Healing isn’t always about fixing a relationship. Sometimes it’s about fixing something in ourselves.

I’ve worked with mothers grieving a child’s silence, children trying to untangle themselves from decades of guilt or unmet need, and adults who’ve accepted that the parent they longed for may never exist.

The common thread in all these stories is that you still have the power to choose who you want to be, regardless of what the other person does.

That might mean picking up the phone, putting down your ego, or writing the letter you’ll never send.

It might mean choosing to love someone from a distance, without resentment. It might mean finally letting go of the fantasy that a person will change, and making peace with that.

There’s no single right way to experience this day.

But there is a wrong way: pretending it doesn’t affect you when it does.

So here’s what I would encourage you to do, wherever you find yourself today:

If you’re celebrating, do it fully. Let your mom know what she means to you. Let the good memories rise to the surface. Speak gratitude out loud.
If you’re grieving, make space for that. Don’t fake a smile for someone else’s comfort. Write, walk, cry, pray — whatever helps you acknowledge the ache.
If you’re estranged or in conflict, take a breath and ask yourself what healing would look like for you. Not what would make you “win,” but what would bring peace.
If you’re a mother and feel unseen or exhausted, know this: your work matters. Even if no one claps or posts about you, your love and your labor are not invisible.