I used to celebrate Mother’s Day the usual way just like many others. Every year, I’d buy her a gift, take her out for dinner, or send her heartfelt messages. Not out of obligation, but from genuine love. But when she suddenly passed on when I turned 25, Mother’s Day felt strange.

You see, sometimes love is so warm, so generous, so ever-present, that we don’t realise we’ve built our identity inside it. And when that presence is no longer there through distance, death, or emotional absence, it can feel like parts of us start to collapse. Not because she harmed us, but because we were never taught how to separate from her energetically.

It’s the kind of grief that feels confusing. How can I miss someone so much and still know I need to unhook from her in order to live fully.

That is the version of Mother’s Day no one talks about. The one where the relationship was good, loving and functional, but not sovereign.

When the time came for me to be on my own, I had to learn how to mother myself. Not because she failed me but because I had never learned how to be fully whole without her.

The Mother Wound That Hides in the Nice Things

Most people think a mother wound is easy to spot: abuse, abandonment, coldness, harsh words, emotional neglect. Yes, sometimes it’s exactly that.

But more often than not, it shows up in subtle ways. It wears soft clothes. It makes warm soup. It smells like eucalyptus oil and Tiger Balm. It feels like someone who truly loves you but never quite showed you how to love yourself without them.

This is the version of the mother wound that slips under the radar. It hides in good intentions, and it hides in the comfort of being cared for, even when you're already a capable adult.

It also hides in dynamics where nothing is technically “wrong,” yet deep inside, something still feels off.

Let me show you what it can look like:

You struggle to make decisions without first asking someone else for their opinion (even if it's just about what to eat or what to cook).

You feel strangely hollow when you're alone, even though, on paper, your life is going pretty well.

You seek your partner’s approval the way a child looks up and waits for a nod from Mum.

You’re constantly giving, giving, giving but can’t seem to say no, even when you're exhausted.

And emotionally, you often feel like you're too much. Or not enough. Or both, depending on the day. Like no matter how hard you try, you're always somehow slightly off-mark.

And there is another one that’s hardest to admit: when your mother passes or when she starts pulling away emotionally, it feels like your sense of self starts to unravel not because she made you feel small, but because so much of your identity was wrapped around her presence.

That is like the “invisible inheritance”. This is the kind of mother wound that doesn’t come from what was done to you, but from what was never taught to you.

Your nervous system is shaped by your earliest attachments. And when that attachment is rooted in fear, control, or over-care (yes, even too much love can be a trap), your body starts to believe that love must come with tension.

It learns that safety means pleasing; that connection means self-sacrifice; and that being loved means being needed.

So even in healthy relationships, your nervous system can’t fully relax. There is a part of you always on high alert, trying to manage how others feel. It’s like you believe your safety depends on their emotional state. “If everyone else is okay, then I'll be okay too.”

I’ve put together a visual to show how this can play out. On the left, you’ll see how mother wounds often show up in daily life. On the right, what starts to shift after we clear the energy behind it.

Take a look before we go into how to start the healing:

Relearning Love Through Self-Mothering

Healing the mother wound doesn’t mean we reject or resent our mothers. It’s not about blame but responsibility.

The work is not about cutting ties but about changing the contract.

It means, iInstead of being the child who waits for approval or protection, we step into the role of the loving adult we once needed: the part of us that stays, listens and doesn’t run away just because things get tough.

So how do we begin?

1. Separate the love from the attachment

Start here: a mother can love you deeply and still unknowingly pass down patterns of fear, guilt, or helplessness. That’s not betrayal. They are just being human. Most mothers did what they could with what they had and sadly, that didn’t always include emotional literacy.

Ask yourself: Did I learn that love means being free? Or did I learn that love means being needed?

There’s a big difference. One is real love. The other is attachment.

When we confuse love with attachment, we become needy. We pull our partners into the emotional roles our mothers used to fill. And before you know it, a romantic relationship starts feeling like daycare with one person parenting and the other clinging for security.

If we want to grow, we have to remind ourselves that:

> Love is expansive. Attachment is constricting.
> Love says, “You are already enough.” Attachment says, “Don’t leave me, I won’t survive.”

Which of the above, do you think, leads to freedom?

2. Make self-mothering a nervous system practice

This is not about candles and lavender baths, although those things can help. It’s also not about reading 15 self-help books and trying to become your own guru.

Self-mothering is about creating internal safety.

A good mother regulates. She soothes without silencing. She encourages without controlling. She says, “It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. I’m still here.”

That’s exactly the voice you now need to give yourself. Whether it's through somatic grounding, gentle breathwork, or something as simple as placing a hand on your chest when anxiety kicks in. You’re showing your body: “You are safe now. I’m with you, and I’ve got you.”

The key is to stop abandoning yourself in the moments you most need care. That alone can shift your entire nervous system.

3. Grieve what was lost and what was never given

Many of us avoid grief because we’re afraid it means turning against our mothers. It’s not.

Grief is what clears the space between who we were told to be, and who we really are. When we give ourselves permission to mourn the mother we needed but never had, we start making room for a self we’ve never fully met.

You may think this is spiritual talk, but it’s backed by science. In psychology, this healing process is known as earned secure attachment. It means even if you didn’t grow up with safe, stable caregivers, you can still rewire your emotional patterns as an adult through conscious, consistent self-regulation.

In other words, you become your own safe harbour. Not all the time, but more and more of the time. And slowly, the craving for external validation softens. The anxiety starts to melt and you begin to realise: “Oh. I’m okay. Even when I’m alone, I’m still okay.”

It's Okay to Be Indifferent Now

When people come to me for healing work, especially for mother wounds, they often assume the goal is love. Or maybe forgiveness. It sounds soft and noble.

But what surprises most of them is when they were told that the end goal for this clearing is not love and not even forgiveness, but indifference.

Now don’t worry, I’m not telling you to shut off your feelings or pretend nothing happened. That’s avoidance, and that’s not what we want.

When I say indifference, I mean neutrality that reflects deep, grounded peace. It is the kind of state where your system no longer reacts impulsively. The emotion is still acknowledged, but it’s no longer gripping you.

Think of a flower. A flower doesn’t stand there in the garden asking, “Do you see me? Do you like my petals? Am I doing it right? Am I pretty? Please touch me.” No. It just blooms without needing anything back. No chasing. No resentment. No performance. It gives what it has, and that’s enough. That’s what a deeply healed soul looks like.

It’s when you see your mother’s name on your phone and your stomach doesn’t drop. And when you love your partner without needing them to hold the emotional weight of your inner child.

And, when you finally give your mother’s day gift not because you have to or you’re afraid not to, but because you genuinely want to.

It’s a whole new nervous system, and a whole new you.

Clearing the Two Faces of the Mother Wound: Harshness and Over-Attachment

When people come to me, they’re usually self-aware. They’ve done therapy, read the books, or journaled like mad. And still, something feels stuck. That’s because most of the patterns we carry around our mothers don’t just sit in the mind and body, they sit in the soul too. This is the work that I do. I detect the deepest roots even at deepest, multidimensional levels of your soul (as far as I am able to reach them) and clear them for you.

I’ve been there, done that when it comes to healing unresolved issues through talk therapy. There is no point over-analysing the patterns using your mind until you’re emotionally fried. I work on clearing the energetic cords that are still running in the background without us knowing it.

If your mother was harsh, abusive or unpredictable, chances are your nervous system has been living in survival mode for years. You might not realise it because you’ve gotten used to the anxiety. But after we clear those cords, your body starts to rest, like real rest, not “Netflix with anxiety” kind of rest.

Now, if your mother was loving but over-attached, the results look slightly different. You’re probably used to being the "good child," the dependable one, the one who never rocks the boat.

Or, you might have trouble saying no, or feel guilty when you choose yourself. For these cases, what is expected after clearing, is sovereignty. Not in a fierce, rebellious way but in a gentle and grounded way.

The result is you stop looking to others to parent you. You realise you can make decisions and stand on your own two feet, and you don’t need anyone to approve of you to feel okay.

Over time, the outcome is the same for most people. You arrive at neutrality. I don’t mean you become numb or disconnected. I mean your system becomes steady. You will find yourself giving without feeling drained, and helping others without needing to be needed.

If you’ve been looping through the same emotional cycles, and you’re tired of trying to “figure it out” only to end up back in the same place, this work might be just what you need. This is exactly the space I hold. I go in with you, not just to talk about your patterns, but to energetically clear them from the root. I’ve seen people walk away clearer, lighter, and finally able to be themselves.

For many years, I’ve never felt anything on Mother’s Day except compassion for others who might be going through what I went through. That’s why I wrote this message today:


“Happy Mothering Day”.

With Love,

Shaya 🌷