{"version":"1.0","type":"rich","provider_name":"Acast","provider_url":"https://acast.com","height":250,"width":700,"html":"","title":"Flowing River at the Moment of a Confession","thumbnail_width":200,"thumbnail_height":200,"thumbnail_url":"https://open-images.acast.com/shows/5e1f60b99a47b5450663b683/1751321310789-eb0cf1e9-d743-4218-965c-147b5f4a237c.jpeg?height=200","description":"

I was asked if I missed or healed from missing my mom

First of all, she is not dead in the sense most of us understand death

Second of all, you cannot escape the most human example of being a human:

miss, love, miss, miss love - to the extent of not coming across it.

It's very human to be able to miss the one person that gave you life and light and love and would love unconditionally, the best she could in the ways she knew.


I feel I have not yet consumed the bereavement

or allowed myself to fall into the sentimentality of it all

I have been too busy taking over


I gave the only possible answer at that time:

'I'm filled with so many voids that I don't feel any, or anything'

I felt once again the loneliness of not having the right people next to me

I felt sick and tired of people complaining of their fearful and unimaginative ways of living

that sometimes reflected mine

I felt emptied of love and sense and purpose, maybe because of myself spreading too thin

on the people that did not reciprocate

or were just uncapable of love and loving

It's not about you I've kept telling myself

Make it about others - the love, not the lack of it

However, I could but turn to myself when I had given myself too many times to the wrong people and almost never had the right ones who would stay, just stay and be a part of my life

I didn't want to use metaphors for this -

After all, it's a confession

of someone, apparently, selfish, thinking too much of herself, and way too often these days


Photo: Personal archive


Note: The sound of the river is real, and, hopefully not disturbing

","author_name":"Ana"}