My pleasure. Absolutely. I love the way you have linked to your other posts in the text. Your work has the feel of a rich ecosystem. I am in the middle of going through my subscriptions to refine to those that bring me joy. I had too many. I am keeping the jewels.
Holly, this piece is beautiful. Wow. Just wow. Weaving past and present. I feel your struggle, your growth, acceptance and letting go. The many seasons. This line broke “me: blink away my tears each time my mother is looking at me but not seeing me.” I experienced this as recent as yesterday. I wrote about it today in Stranger. I see you, friend. You are an amazing human. PS I cry most days I get on the mat. Truly cathartic. Yoga Wrings me out.
And thank you for seeing me. I’ve commented to several others that writing is really bringing a lot of the loneliness I felt as a kid full circle—thank you so much for seeing me now.
Holly, you are an extraordinary recurring flowering of human love and will. Your childhood experiences brought tears to my eyes and I realized my childhood wasn't all that bad. I've felt a connection to your content since I first discovered it. Thank you for all of your beauty.
I'm sorry that happened to you, and I'm proud of you for finding your strength through the pain. Grateful for your vulnerability. Lovely photo series. A reminder of the spiraling cycles of change being what they are.
This shows just how strong you are. How you are able to look inside yourself and release. The ability to find the things you need to do to reflect and heal.
I do have a question, though. As I read through this, I wondered. You went through your own alcohol issues. You’ve been clean a while now, again demonstrating your strong will and determination. You learned about the hows and whys. The question, going through that, do you understand your mom a little better ? As a 7 year old, of course you wouldn’t. But you’ve had your own demons, the experience. Nothing can or will change what you went through. But you persevered and are one hell of a role model for your daughter.
Do you, can you, do you want to, understand perhaps where mom was, maybe even relate better to her problems?
I’ve thought about this a lot and thank you for asking.
The answer is yes and no, about understanding her.
The difference with her, is that she refused to ever acknowledge she had a problem, even though there was evidence—her crashing her car into our house, and on and on. Even later, when we fought and I told her I wanted some acknowledgement that her drinking affected things she told me I was living in the past and refused to apologize for her behavior. When my daughter was 6 days old I had to have someone come pick her up because she was drunk and I couldn’t have 2 children to watch when I had a newborn. Anyway, the list goes on and on.
I think it is always easier to forgive when there is vulnerability and acknowledgement…and some steps taken to get better.
It was too late for her.
Thanks very much for reading and being here as always, Ken.
Absolutely. When I was on my knees I was taken back to this moment when I was 6. And it came full circle. And the pain was gone. It was a joyful release!
And now in people reading this writing. Thank you for reading, Chris.
So raw and powerful. Your writing rips at my heart. The fear, the pain, the struggle, the release. You have endured, grown, and become. Most haven't. Keep the love flowing through you, it is truly healing.
Holly, I felt this so deeply as your writing and images poured seasons of grief. Holding back, letting loose, frozen, trickling and steadying themselves. I've been experiencing my body's letdown after a long time with something different. Your piece brought tears for my best friend's most intimate stories of childhood with an alcoholic mom. We were 49 when cancer took her. I am so glad you are here to tell, to pour it out, and to practice body, mind and soul release as a way through. ox
Incredibly articulate and poignant recollection and processing Holly…well written and well done for yourself 💜
Been there and survived, now thriving (if one can while raising kids, lol)!
One cannot heal without accepting and facing the pain and hurt that caused the wound. Learning from your mom’s (and your past missteps) are all you can do now. Keep taking the lessons learned and applying them to your daughter.
That’s the true healing…allowing your kids to feel like they’re safe (as you know, that’s precious)💛
I have incredibly similar childhood memories. More hiding though as my mother’s intoxication led to rage. I regret so much not appreciating the barrier that my father was. I didn’t think about it until he was gone.
I wish I could have seen you there on your yoga mat. That kind of release is a beautiful thing.
Oh Holly…I felt this one deeply. I’ve also been on the yoga mat releasing and letting go. So deep and so beautiful…thank you for another amazing essay 🙏❤️🩹💖
Startlingly beautiful writing. Joyful and heartbreaking at the same time in the release of pain. Thank you. 🙏
Those words are music to my ears. Thank you so very much for reading and for making my morning with your comment.
My pleasure. Absolutely. I love the way you have linked to your other posts in the text. Your work has the feel of a rich ecosystem. I am in the middle of going through my subscriptions to refine to those that bring me joy. I had too many. I am keeping the jewels.
Thank you very much for saying that. I often wonder if the links are annoying but I want to be able to give backstory to those who choose to explore.
Sometimes I feel like my posts are like an octopus…one main body with all these competing tentacles and it is hard to hone in. But the links can help.
Very much appreciate you, Davina. Will have to check out your work.
Love your idea of the ecosystem. I'll be thinking about that for a while today.
Holly, this piece is beautiful. Wow. Just wow. Weaving past and present. I feel your struggle, your growth, acceptance and letting go. The many seasons. This line broke “me: blink away my tears each time my mother is looking at me but not seeing me.” I experienced this as recent as yesterday. I wrote about it today in Stranger. I see you, friend. You are an amazing human. PS I cry most days I get on the mat. Truly cathartic. Yoga Wrings me out.
Yoga wringing you out is a great way to put it.
And thank you for seeing me. I’ve commented to several others that writing is really bringing a lot of the loneliness I felt as a kid full circle—thank you so much for seeing me now.
I see you too.
Thank you so much for always being here, Heidi.
Yes, yoga wrings us out. Exactly, Heidi.
Wow, what a beautiful, vivid and raw piece, Holly! Some parts really resonate with me...
'I am not broken. I have always been whole. But now the parts are connecting again.' That's so beautifully said. And true. 🫶
Thank you so much for reading. We aren’t broken. Sometimes we have to find a way to reconnect again. Appreciate you.
❤️🔥
Holly, you are an extraordinary recurring flowering of human love and will. Your childhood experiences brought tears to my eyes and I realized my childhood wasn't all that bad. I've felt a connection to your content since I first discovered it. Thank you for all of your beauty.
Steven, your comment brought tears to my eyes.
Thank you so much for being here and reading.
I am doing my best to transcend what is in the past. To beautify it and bring light to it.
You are a powerful witness, which really somehow makes up for all that aloneness as a kid.
Thank you again for seeing me, now. Can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.
Sometimes I feel compelled to say something in response, yet I have no idea what to say. Thank you for sharing.
Your presence is all that matters. Stillness. Silence here. Very similar to what I feel during a yoga session. Thank you for reading, Sam.
Also a reminder to try yoga again.
I'm sorry that happened to you, and I'm proud of you for finding your strength through the pain. Grateful for your vulnerability. Lovely photo series. A reminder of the spiraling cycles of change being what they are.
Love that. Spiraling cycles of change.
Thanks so much for reading, Christian.
Will keep practicing. Will keep writing.
This shows just how strong you are. How you are able to look inside yourself and release. The ability to find the things you need to do to reflect and heal.
I do have a question, though. As I read through this, I wondered. You went through your own alcohol issues. You’ve been clean a while now, again demonstrating your strong will and determination. You learned about the hows and whys. The question, going through that, do you understand your mom a little better ? As a 7 year old, of course you wouldn’t. But you’ve had your own demons, the experience. Nothing can or will change what you went through. But you persevered and are one hell of a role model for your daughter.
Do you, can you, do you want to, understand perhaps where mom was, maybe even relate better to her problems?
Just curious.
I’ve thought about this a lot and thank you for asking.
The answer is yes and no, about understanding her.
The difference with her, is that she refused to ever acknowledge she had a problem, even though there was evidence—her crashing her car into our house, and on and on. Even later, when we fought and I told her I wanted some acknowledgement that her drinking affected things she told me I was living in the past and refused to apologize for her behavior. When my daughter was 6 days old I had to have someone come pick her up because she was drunk and I couldn’t have 2 children to watch when I had a newborn. Anyway, the list goes on and on.
I think it is always easier to forgive when there is vulnerability and acknowledgement…and some steps taken to get better.
It was too late for her.
Thanks very much for reading and being here as always, Ken.
“And yet, I am still the little girl on her knees, devoted—waiting for someone to listen….”
Maybe a sort of answer, a very long time in coming, in that cathartic moment on the mat?
Absolutely. When I was on my knees I was taken back to this moment when I was 6. And it came full circle. And the pain was gone. It was a joyful release!
And now in people reading this writing. Thank you for reading, Chris.
So raw and powerful. Your writing rips at my heart. The fear, the pain, the struggle, the release. You have endured, grown, and become. Most haven't. Keep the love flowing through you, it is truly healing.
I will do my best to keep it flowing.
And thank you for some of the best compliments and reading. Sending peace and love to you too, Demetrius. :)
My mom was an alcoholic, too. Dead at 45. You are doing a great job of interpreting the past and living in the present. Love, Virg
Thanks so much, Virginia ❤️❤️❤️
Holly, I felt this so deeply as your writing and images poured seasons of grief. Holding back, letting loose, frozen, trickling and steadying themselves. I've been experiencing my body's letdown after a long time with something different. Your piece brought tears for my best friend's most intimate stories of childhood with an alcoholic mom. We were 49 when cancer took her. I am so glad you are here to tell, to pour it out, and to practice body, mind and soul release as a way through. ox
Wow, Deborah. Thanks so much for a comment that made my morning.
I will continue to let it flow. Sending peace and love to you, too :)
and back to you Holly. ox
Wow, Holly.
Wow is the best comment. Thank you.
Incredibly articulate and poignant recollection and processing Holly…well written and well done for yourself 💜
Been there and survived, now thriving (if one can while raising kids, lol)!
One cannot heal without accepting and facing the pain and hurt that caused the wound. Learning from your mom’s (and your past missteps) are all you can do now. Keep taking the lessons learned and applying them to your daughter.
That’s the true healing…allowing your kids to feel like they’re safe (as you know, that’s precious)💛
Beautiful comment. Still letting it flow every day as much as I can.
thank you so much for reading, Mike :)
I have incredibly similar childhood memories. More hiding though as my mother’s intoxication led to rage. I regret so much not appreciating the barrier that my father was. I didn’t think about it until he was gone.
I wish I could have seen you there on your yoga mat. That kind of release is a beautiful thing.
Sending you love Jay. If you survived this kind of thing you know loneliness. You know terror.
It was a great release. I felt fantastic afterward. Will keep doing yoga.
Thank you for reading.
Oh Holly…I felt this one deeply. I’ve also been on the yoga mat releasing and letting go. So deep and so beautiful…thank you for another amazing essay 🙏❤️🩹💖
Thank you so much for reading. Very behind on your stuff. Tomorrow morning!