Naming the Unspoken: My Reflections on "Mother Mary Comes to Me"

There are some books that don’t just tell a story — they also act as gentle reflection starters. For me, " Mother Mary Comes to Me"by Arundhati Roy is one of those books.

While "Mother Mary Comes to Me" touches on broader themes — political and historical terrains, legacy, and the feminist struggle — what stayed with me most was the mother-daughter relationship and the layers woven beneath it. Even after finishing the book, it lingers. It has stayed with me. Not because of dramatic turns or twists, but because of how poignantly it speaks of pain, love, trauma, and survival.

As a person who supports others in their healing journey, and as someone who has always been curious about the stories of mothers and daughters, this book moved me deeply — not just for what was told, but how it was told.

I loved the writer’s style. It felt effortless and seamless, and I could feel the genuine truth and raw emotions — all without a victim tone or any sense of blame.

It’s a story of mother and daughter, layered with trauma, resilience, and love, woven together with courage and tenderness. I am in awe of the writer’s ability to name what was once unspoken, and do so with such grace.

What also kept me thinking was the glimpse I got of a Booker Prize–winning writer — her struggles before recognition, the extremes of acclaim, and her deep human vulnerabilities. It reminded me that even the greatest achievers carry their own tender stories — emotional landscapes shaped by their childhood.

Sometimes, we carry our mother’s pain, traits, and patterns in ways we don’t even recognize. When a mother grows up in survival mode — carrying the weight of abuse, silence, or shame — that pain doesn’t disappear when she becomes a parent. It quietly shows in the way she expresses love, care, and self-worth.

As a therapist, I often see this invisible thread — daughters trying to heal wounds that aren’t entirely theirs, passed down across generations. I believe that awareness is the first powerful step to breaking this thread: noticing patterns, naming the pain and hurt, and recognizing where it comes from.

Seeing our mothers not just as caregivers, but as humans shaped by their own pain, opens the door to compassion — for them, and for ourselves. Because healing isn’t always about changing the past. Sometimes it’s about understanding it — gently, courageously — and deciding how the story continues from here.

✨ Naming what you feel

✨ Processing what’s unspoken

✨ Gently letting go

✨ Reconnecting with what matters to you

✨ Being thankful for whatever good you had, in spite of the odds

Maybe healing begins when we stop asking why our mothers couldn’t love differently — and start understanding what shaped their love in the first place.