Choosing Joy on Mother’s Day

On this day five years ago, I wrote about the feelings I was having on Mother’s Day.  It’s Mother’s Day here in the UK, which led me to reflect on my writing. I thought it might be helpful if I share some of these thoughts as I know how difficult this day can feel. If it is hard for you, please know like nature and the seasons, nothing is permanent. Everything is changing and how you feel will change too.

Mother’s Day 2021

In 2021, I felt something different on Mother’s Day for the first time in a long time. And I wrote this:

I realise now that for years, how I felt on Mother’s Day was determined by the gifts I got from Chris, my husband, or what the kids did for me. Chris was a true romantic and he always had a beautiful gesture for me. Even after we were divorced, there was always some sort of gift for me on Mother’s Day.  And when that stopped, I felt emptiness. 

But today I decided how I felt. I didn’t wait for a gift or a gesture from anyone. From the moment that I woke, my intention was to have a wonderful day.  Every moment felt wonderful. Even tidying and doing dishes felt wonderful. My run felt amazing and it was the first time that I listened to music while running.  Remarkable!  I ran faster.  And when I got at the lights, I waved my arms in the air.  I never would have done that before… too embarrassing. But now all I can think is how anyone watching me wished they were having as much fun as I was having.

Even shopping felt fun, with Ella by my side helping out.  Then I bought bedding plants, bright yellow. The most fitting colour, for my day and mood.  Today was an awesome day because I decided that it would be. 

Mother’s Day can feel complicated

Before 2021, there was many of years when Mother’s Day did not feel good.  It can be a complicated landscape for many of us affected by someone else’s addiction. For some, it arrives with flowers and breakfast trays – and that made me resentful. For others, it carries quiet spaces, memories, unanswered calls, or relationships that ache in ways words struggle to hold.

Today, I want to speak gently to every kind of mother and to every person carrying a mother-shaped space in their heart.

If today brings joy, I hope you can slow down to savour those moments.
If it brings tenderness or pain, you are not alone in that either.

To the mothers who have lost their children, and to the children who have lost their mothers  to addiction, I hold you in compassion today. Love does not disappear with loss. It often lives on quietly in memories, lessons carried forward, and in the strength it takes to keep going.

To the mothers who are separated from their children right now, whether through circumstance, recovery, or the painful distance addiction can create, I recognise how heavy that can feel. Even when bridges feel broken, the capacity for love and healing remains. Healing rarely follows a straight line, and every step toward health and hope matters.

To the mothers holding families together while a partner’s addiction shakes the ground beneath them, the ones quietly managing the bills, the school runs, the worry, the late-night tears, I know the courage it takes to keep showing up. That quiet perseverance deserves care and compassion too. I wish I would have shown myself compassion during those days.

To the mothers who won’t receive cards, flowers, or thank-yous today, who may feel unseen or alone, please know that your care and effort matter deeply. The love you give shapes lives in ways that may not always be visible, but its roots run deep.

And to those whose mothers are no longer here, or whose relationships with their mothers were complicated or painful, today may bring many different feelings. Grief, relief, love, anger, longing… all of it belongs.

Mother’s Day is not one story.
It is thousands.

If today feels heavy, perhaps this is a moment to offer yourself a little extra kindness. Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is simply stay present and feel what is here, one gentle step at a time.

And if today brings even the smallest moment of warmth, a memory, a laugh, a quiet cup of tea, a child’s smile, you might allow yourself to receive it fully.

You decide how you feel

No matter what is happening in your life, you can choose joy today, your gift to yourself on Mother’s Day. Not the kind that pretends everything is fine, or ignores the hard parts. But the quiet kind of joy that can exist alongside grief, exhaustion, or uncertainty.

Joy might be a few minutes of sunlight on your face.
A deep breath.
A warm cup of tea.
A memory that makes you smile.

It might last only a moment. And that is enough.

Because moments matter.
They are how healing begins.
They are how we remember that even in complicated seasons of life, warmth can still find its way in.

So if today feels heavy, be kind to yourself. Practice self-compassion. And if a small moment of joy appears, even briefly, you might let yourself receive it.

Just for that moment. And today, perhaps that is more than enough.

Kim Moore

Kim Moore is the Founder of Blossome CIC. She lost her husband Chris to alcoholism in 2017. She faced a difficult journey while raising 2 children alone, with her family living on the opposite side of the world. Kim  founded the Blossome Community and The Pathway to Peace healing journey so no one would have to feel alone while enduring the trauma of a loved one’s battle with alcoholism or addiction. She is also on a mission to end the generational cycle of alcoholism and addiction in families.