How do I explain to my mother that my wedding is not about her? It all started when she insisted that I wear her veil, which I didn’t mind, as it was a family tradition. But as the wedding preparations progressed, she tried to control every decision.
“Mom, I’ve decided on a rustic theme for the reception,” I said one evening.
She frowned. “Rustic? Why not something more elegant, like my wedding? Remember how beautiful it was?”
I sighed, already feeling the tension rise. “Mom, it’s my wedding. I want it to reflect my style and preferences.”
Her meddling only intensified as the big day approached. She wanted to choose the flowers, the menu, even the seating arrangement. I tried to accommodate her as much as possible, but it seemed like nothing was ever enough.
A few days before the wedding, I sent her a picture of a memorial table I set up for my late cousin and dad. I loved this idea because I still cry over the fact that they won’t be at my wedding. When my mom saw the picture, she freaked out that she wasn’t included in that one thing and insisted that I put a portrait of her too, even though she is alive.
I stared at her text, incredulous. “Mom, the memorial table is for those who can’t be with us. You’re very much alive and will be at the wedding,” I tried to reason with her.
She called immediately, her voice dripping with indignation. “How can you exclude me like this? Do you know how hurtful that is? After everything I’ve done for you?”
“Mom, it’s not about excluding you. It’s about honoring those we’ve lost,” I explained, my patience wearing thin.
She would always make my birthdays about her or claim my achievements as if they were hers. But my wedding is the one day I truly needed for myself. When I tried to explain this to her, she said she wouldn’t come if I was going to behave in such a disrespectful and selfish way.
This was the breaking point. “If you can’t respect my wishes for one day, then maybe it’s best if you don’t come,” I said firmly, hanging up the phone.
For the next few days, I didn’t hear from her. The silence was both a relief and a source of anxiety. I focused on the final preparations, trying to push her out of my mind.
On the morning of the wedding, just as I was getting my hair done, she showed up at my door, holding a large portrait of herself.
“Mom, what are you doing?” I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief.
“I’m here to see my daughter get married, and this portrait will be displayed, or I won’t stay,” she declared.
This is when I decided to show her what selfishness truly was. “You know what, Mom? Go home. You’ve made your point clear. Today is about me and my new life with my husband. If you can’t support that, then you don’t need to be here.”
Her face twisted with shock and fury. “How dare you speak to me like that! After all, I’ve done for you!”
I took a deep breath, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over me. “Mom, I love you, but this day is not about you. If you want to be here, you are welcome. But if you can’t respect my wishes, then please leave.”
She stared at me for a long moment, then turned and walked away, taking her portrait with her.
The wedding went ahead beautifully, filled with love and support from friends and family who respected our day. I posted about the experience online, sharing how I stood up for myself and made my wedding day truly mine.
In the comments, many shared similar stories and offered support. Some even shared advice on dealing with narcissistic parents. It was comforting to know I wasn’t alone and that standing up for myself was the right thing to do.
My mother didn’t speak to me for a few months after that, but eventually, we began to rebuild our relationship. It wasn’t easy, but setting boundaries was necessary. My wedding day taught me the importance of standing up for myself, even when it was hard. And in the end, it made me stronger.
