I just do. I hate the memories, I hate the void in my life that aches today more than other days. I hate that people seem to think I should be happy today more than other days. I don't feel happy. I feel drained and harassed by the ghosts of my childhood that I wish would just leave me the hell alone. I feel inadequate because in spite of all my reading, observing and fighting to learn how to be a mother I never had one and so I don't feel like I know what I'm doing with my own children. My mother slept, ate, cut herself, slapped me or was in a mental hospital throughout my childhood. The only down times from that were when she was in a verbally abusive argument with my primary caregiver. Mothers day reminds me more than any other holiday of where I come from.