My antipathy deepened when I joined Facebook. As the mother of all holidays approached each spring, my feed was overwhelmed with public displays of maternal affection. One friend posted that she had "the greatest momma of all." Another referred to his mother as his "best friend and partner."

I did crack a smile – barely – when someone posted, "Did you ever realize that 'Mom' spelled upside down is 'Wow'?" (No, I had not.)

Mother's Day is coming: This is for single moms and the families they're building

TV moms, the sequel
Reading these posts, where everyone else’s perfect mother was a clone of TV moms like June Cleaver from "Leave It to Beaver" and Carol Brady from "The Brady Bunch," made me want to crawl into a virtual cave. No one confessed to having difficult moms like Moira Rose from "Schitt's Creek" or Ida Morgenstern from "The Mary Tyler Moore Show."

Then a couple of years ago I read this quote from a social worker in Psychology Today: "For some, Mother's Day is a wonderful day filled with family and good memories. For many others, it is a terribly sad, aching, confusing, lonely, and painful day. You are not alone and you are not crazy."

The article's author explained how the holiday can be complicated for a bunch of different reasons.

"Mother’s Day is an unfair holiday to push upon the world," she wrote. "An unjust holiday to force upon people who have: lost their mothers, lost a child, hate their mothers, hate their children, want to be a mother (but can’t), don’t want to be a mother (and are societally shamed for it), thought they wanted to be a mother and realize 'whoops, that was a mistake,' are dealing with infertility, adoption, or fear, have mothered their grandchildren or other family members (and resent this), other complex gender issues around mothering – and I am sure I am leaving off many other options."

Wow. For the first time I didn't feel deficient – or like an outcast – and since then I've heard from many others who would love to skip over Mother's Day.

Whatever the reason for wanting to dodge it, the Mother’s Day clamor is inescapable. During the run-up to the day, there are the sentimental advertisements urging us to buy cards, candy and flowers. On the day itself, there's no refuge from the incessant messages (on social media and pretty much everywhere) about the joys of motherhood.

I was actually surprised when I received an email from YogaWorks the other day with this as a subject line: "An option to skip Mother’s Day emails." The body of the email allowed that this holiday "can create sensitivities.” Yes, indeed.

When Mom's view of me shifted
If you don’t relish the day, I know you’re not crazy – I’ve been there. But I can say there is hope, because things changed after my mom was diagnosed with advanced lung cancer (not that I wish that on anyone).

I don't believe in Mother's Day: But I'm hoping for at least another mother's decade

Something completely unexpected, even magical, took place in her first hospital stay. I became her advocate – for more pain meds, a new bedpan, a daily chocolate milkshake. My mom felt the love embodied in my attention, and it profoundly affected her. She stopped demanding constant proof of my devotion, which freed me to show her more.

We had some of our best conversations while she waited to get a CT scan or when I mopped her brow at home. The pressure was off; the clock was ticking.

That first Mother’s Day after Mom was diagnosed, I broke my silence on Facebook, posting a photo of her with these words: "Here's a picture of my mom. Would love to see yours, too!"

Yep, it was a bit milquetoast, but still it was a step.

And then my mother died in the early days of 2017. I was with her, and the last thing I said was, "I love you."

Since then I've posted on Mother’s Day. For instance, after Mom died, I acknowledged the challenges in our mother-son relationship: "I am reminded today of the many years when I did not have a good relationship with my mother and how painful it was to see so many here celebrating Mother's Day. These relationships are not always easy, and sometimes fraught and painful. And yet, some of us have the capacity to grow. Be gentle with yourselves today."

I was pressed for advice on reconciliation and could only reply: “I have no magic bullet answer, except to urge acceptance when it can be found. I also know this isn’t always possible. And that takes a different kind of acceptance.” Which is to say, sometimes we have to let go.

So if Mother’s Day is not your thing, take a social media break and skip those syrupy ads. Accept the mother you have (or the mother you are). And when in doubt be kind, especially to yourself. You're not crazy. And you're definitely not alone.