Letters to Mom 008: Release


There have been a few “homework” assignments that I have been given while going to therapy which I never felt I was in a place to complete.  Things were too busy. I wasn’t at “home” yet. I was traveling. I was trying to get things ready for the move. I was settling in. I was helping my brother…

I was always doing. Being busy keeps things from hurting normally. I’m busy. I’m productive. I’m doing good… What?… Oh, don’t mind that puddle of blood on the floor as I bleed out… everything’s perfectly fine. I’m good. I’m good. I’m… completely and totally breaking down…

Well, things are actually settled for the most part. Going through my “in” box  I happened upon the papers for my therapy homework. Since I don’t have an  excuse to not  do it any longer this writing is going to be one of those assignments.

We did a tarot reading essentially. It was called “angel cards” but you have a past, present, and future card, just like a standard tarot  reading. This assignment is for my “past” card.

My “past” card is Release.


Archangel Michael sends you this card in response to your questions about your Divine life purpose. Perhaps you have an idea about what it is but feel intimidated about moving forward. Or maybe you feel blocked with respect to understanding your life mission.

Your higher self is completely aware of your Divine mission and is ready to move forward on that path. Your higher self is also tapped into the Universal flow of support available to you and your purpose. To reach your natural state, Michael will help you release anything that may be standing in your way, such as ego-based concerns or activities.


I’m supposed to write to Archangel Michael, asking what I need to release to be fully on my path and purpose. After writing down everything, no matter what it is, any feeling, any thought, I’m supposed to burn, or in some way destroy, my writing.

I’m supposed to say, “I now fully release anything that is not for my highest good.”

I feel like it’s wrong to ask Archangel Michael for assistance since I choose not to follow that path. I follow Freya, and even then, I commune with my mom more than anyone at the moment. It’s her advice that I turned to, that I sought, that I miss. In my heart I feel it’s right to seek her help and guidance right now. I need some good old-fashion mom advice.

This is what I wrote. Pure. Raw. Unedited.



Hey mom,

And even before I type those words I can feel the tears forming in my eyes.

I miss you. Still. Always. For forever I will miss you. Curse you for being such an amazing person. : p

I need your help mom. I should have done this a while ago. And maybe that’s wrong of me to say or think. I’ve been doing well keeping up with everything. I’ve handled a lot of really heavy stuff.  I’m finally getting to the point where I can start examining my life and making logical, stable, informed  choices rather than emotionally driven,  survival based decision.

I don’t know if I have a purpose right now. My “divine life calling”. I’ve always thought of it  as being a force of good in the world. There wasn’t anything really specific  in my head. Build people up. Don’t be a dick. Leave the world better than how you found it.

You taught me that. You taught me to be compassionate and understanding and to care about others.

I don’t know if I’m supposed to  be asking for guidance with  life or my career. I know I need to move forward on my career and that’s the part I’m halfway procrastinating on. The money you left me won’t last for forever and I know that. I know I need to keep moving forward so I can eventually start providing for myself again.  That task doesn’t seem as overwhelming anymore. The thought of having to  go back to work doesn’t make me panic like it used to.

I guess in either instance, in  regards to life or my career, the biggest thing is moving forward even though you’re gone. I can’t stay stagnate in either area. I  can’t give up and say things are too hard. I can’t make excuses for not doing things. I can’t use your death as a crutch to stay unemployed, hiding from the world after my year of mourning has passed.

I need to meditate on the thought of moving forward, on progressing, and figure out why the thought hurts.

It hurts because you’re not here to share in my accomplishments. You’re not here for me to call when it gets hard. You’re not here to celebrate with  me. I guess that’s one of the reasons I still haven’t gone back to aikido. It’s too soft, too gentle right now. I need to spar and fight. I need that outlet, and so I have found Muay Thai and jujitsu, but  even with that I’m worried.

You won’t be there when / if I  test for my belts and I know you would have wanted to be there for me. You would have been so proud. You always were.

And I feel awful typing the words, “You won’t be there,” because even as I write this I know you’re here with  me. It’s just so different, mom. I focus on the loss. I focus on how things used to be rather than accepting how things are. I want them to go back to how they were. I feel like I should be a bigger person and not want that. I should be more enlightened or something, but I’m not. I miss you and I want you here with me because I’m selfish and still an eight-year-old on the inside who just wants a hug and to be told everything’s ok. That the monsters aren’t real and they won’t get me.

I guess that’s the biggest thing I need to let go of. I need to let go of how things used to be. I don’t have to forget them. I can  still cherish my memories. Our memories. But I can’t cling to them the way I do. I can’t keep trying to force the present to be like the past because it’s never going to happen. It’s never going to work, and the more I try, the more I focus on  how it’s not the same, the more I rob my present of the happiness I could have.

You’re still here. Isn’t that enough?

The answer is yes.

Yes. A million times yes.

I’m glad you’re still with me. I’m glad I still feel you in my life. I’m so indescribably grateful for your love and energy. I need to appreciate and acknowledge that aspect of my reality. When I get sad at the thought of accomplishing something in my life I need to remind myself that you will be there. It will be different, but different doesn’t mean bad.

I need to let go of my expectations. My plans aren’t  the plans that the Universe follows. Instead of being bitter and angry and hurt over that, instead of raging and struggling and fighting I could just let it all go and accept what I do  have.

When I write it out like that it seems silly to struggle so much. To hurt so much. It seems childish and small to cry over not getting my way. Who am I in the vastness of the Universe to demand that my idea of the future be the only one fulfilled?

If there are multiverses, then there’s a universe where I’m batman. There’s a universe where you lived and suffered. There’s a universe where you lived and healed. There’s a universe where you didn’t live long enough for me to say goodbye.

This is the universe I live in, though. This one. The one where you died, but I got two weeks to devote my life to you while you were in the hospital. Two weeks of being your water fairy. Two weeks of sleeping in the hospital chair next to you, listening to your breathing.

I don’t understand why I’m in this universe and not any of the other ones, but it’s not my place to understand why.  I was given this life, and this is the way it’s unfolded so far. You died and that sucks but you’re not gone and I need to keep moving forward and living my life. You would want that for me. I know you would.

I will let go of my expectations, mom.

I will let go of the vision of my life that I had. I will accept the life I do have, right now, in this moment, and I won’t let the pain or sadness that I feel hold me back. I won’t pass up opportunities. I won’t hold myself back. I’ll still accomplish things. I’ll still strive for awards because I still want to bring you honor. I’ll live my life as if you are still here because you are. It may not be physically, but you’re with me and so there’s no reason for me to not move forward.

I’m injured right now. I might be for a while, and that’s understandable. Small steps. Recovery is a process. Sometimes we need to stop and look at where we’ve been, where we came from to appreciate where we are. Sometimes we get blinded and discouraged because we only ever look forward at the impossibly long stretch of distance in front of us.

I may get discouraged from time to  time. I’m human. I’m not going to apologize for that. All I can do is promise that I won’t give up. I’ll keep going.

I will accept my life, mom.

Thank you for helping me. I love you, forever and for always.


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