My relationship to my mother (and the way she died) was very different from yours, but it resonates so deeply for me. It's so regrettable, yet seems inevitable, that our mothers' wounds will become ours to carry once they are gone. Learning to disentangle and release them so that we can become ourselves is hard, sometimes lonely work. Living into the healing that they could not do for themselves (and we can't do for them, either, but can do for ourselves) seems a fitting tribute.
Sending you a warm blanket of love, peace and comfort, Anastasia. I know the pain you live with - it’s on a cellular level- and something that we will spend our lives carrying and making sense of. Now that I understand how sick my mom was in her disease, I can find love forgiveness and compassion. But being her child --any child alcoholic and addict- will never feel fully at peace with it all. I’m learning to carry both/all the emotions at the same time.
Dear Ana, our pains demand our attention through subtle nudges which we can hear only by removing the noise of our modern distractions. I am genuinely happy that you are letting the pain in, that you are acknowledging the grief, because I am sure that is the only path to healing. Since you have not boycotted the audio media, can I suggest The Urgency of Change podcast - lectures by Jiddu Krishnamurthy. You can find this in apple podcast or in youtube. You might actually like it.
Thank you for sharing this. I’m so profoundly sorry for your loss. Losing someone by suicide carries a grief that is so hard to reconcile. All the “what ifs?” and unanswered questions can be torturous. You are doing so well to transmute your pain into art and self expression. True healing can happen in this space.
I’m currently sitting at a bus stop near my elderly mum’s house. I have no intention of catching the bus. I just needed a little break from the space she inhabits...a space so devoid of life and joy that it often feels like some part of her died a very long time ago.
Relationships with our mothers can be so complicated. But the part that aches for deeper connection with them is so childlike and primal.
My mother has lived a life...”Turning away from reality. From sensation. From pain. From complexity”.
It has been so hard to bear witness to this throughout my life. There’s some famous Jungian quote along the lines of “the greatest burden a child must bear is the unlived life of a parent”.
I try to remember this in my own life as a parent of three little ones. I owe it to them to live a life of connection and meaning. I owe it to myself too.
I have learned that we cannot control the life choices that someone else chooses to make, try as we might.
I have just turned 44, and know that I’m likely more than half way though this lifetime. I refuse to be technically alive but dead inside. So, like so many of us here, I will keep leaning into ‘difficult’ feelings and trusting in the power of vulnerability. This feels like the place where our lifeblood flows.
Thank you for your honesty and for sharing your struggle. So much of this story resonates with me. I have jumped around other posts of yours just now and experienced a visceral ‘yesss!’ as a fellow addict and Gen Xer. Keep writing ✍🏼
"and each year that passes I am closer to the age she was when she died by suicide." I felt that so deeply. She was 48 when she died by suicide and I'm 41. I also think to my myself, one day I would be without her in my life more years than she has been in, and it kills me. It makes me feel very lonely. Sending you lot of love
A heart-wrenching but also wonderful post. This week it will be a year since my mother died. Different circumstances, but there's still the grief to process. Thank you for helping. I wish you further healing in the future.
My relationship to my mother (and the way she died) was very different from yours, but it resonates so deeply for me. It's so regrettable, yet seems inevitable, that our mothers' wounds will become ours to carry once they are gone. Learning to disentangle and release them so that we can become ourselves is hard, sometimes lonely work. Living into the healing that they could not do for themselves (and we can't do for them, either, but can do for ourselves) seems a fitting tribute.
this is brilliant. thank you.
Sending you a warm blanket of love, peace and comfort, Anastasia. I know the pain you live with - it’s on a cellular level- and something that we will spend our lives carrying and making sense of. Now that I understand how sick my mom was in her disease, I can find love forgiveness and compassion. But being her child --any child alcoholic and addict- will never feel fully at peace with it all. I’m learning to carry both/all the emotions at the same time.
“In the year after my mother’s death it was like I had no skin. Everything hurt. A look. A song.” Gave me chills. So powerful. I needed this today
Dear Ana, our pains demand our attention through subtle nudges which we can hear only by removing the noise of our modern distractions. I am genuinely happy that you are letting the pain in, that you are acknowledging the grief, because I am sure that is the only path to healing. Since you have not boycotted the audio media, can I suggest The Urgency of Change podcast - lectures by Jiddu Krishnamurthy. You can find this in apple podcast or in youtube. You might actually like it.
Thank you for sharing this. I’m so profoundly sorry for your loss. Losing someone by suicide carries a grief that is so hard to reconcile. All the “what ifs?” and unanswered questions can be torturous. You are doing so well to transmute your pain into art and self expression. True healing can happen in this space.
I’m currently sitting at a bus stop near my elderly mum’s house. I have no intention of catching the bus. I just needed a little break from the space she inhabits...a space so devoid of life and joy that it often feels like some part of her died a very long time ago.
Relationships with our mothers can be so complicated. But the part that aches for deeper connection with them is so childlike and primal.
My mother has lived a life...”Turning away from reality. From sensation. From pain. From complexity”.
It has been so hard to bear witness to this throughout my life. There’s some famous Jungian quote along the lines of “the greatest burden a child must bear is the unlived life of a parent”.
I try to remember this in my own life as a parent of three little ones. I owe it to them to live a life of connection and meaning. I owe it to myself too.
I have learned that we cannot control the life choices that someone else chooses to make, try as we might.
I have just turned 44, and know that I’m likely more than half way though this lifetime. I refuse to be technically alive but dead inside. So, like so many of us here, I will keep leaning into ‘difficult’ feelings and trusting in the power of vulnerability. This feels like the place where our lifeblood flows.
We are not our parents.
I am always privilaged to see into a person’s heart and mind. I hear you. I am listening.
Someday, I will have words to describe how much this piece spoke to my soul. For now, however: wow.
Thank you for your honesty and for sharing your struggle. So much of this story resonates with me. I have jumped around other posts of yours just now and experienced a visceral ‘yesss!’ as a fellow addict and Gen Xer. Keep writing ✍🏼
This was beautiful 💕
God, this is beautiful. And sad. And hopeful. Thank you for writing it.
Oof. Thank you.
"and each year that passes I am closer to the age she was when she died by suicide." I felt that so deeply. She was 48 when she died by suicide and I'm 41. I also think to my myself, one day I would be without her in my life more years than she has been in, and it kills me. It makes me feel very lonely. Sending you lot of love
A heart-wrenching but also wonderful post. This week it will be a year since my mother died. Different circumstances, but there's still the grief to process. Thank you for helping. I wish you further healing in the future.
chills <3
Thank you