Mother’s day 2016: A therapeutic experience through writing & sharing by Aurelie Nix

I was filled with a lot of feelings in the week that preceded may 8th 2016, so I decided to write a little bit and put into words whatever it was that I felt/feel. I found it very therapeutic and it started really touching conversations with people who have lost a parent as well. Thank you all for participating. I love you.


“Another birthday without you is coming up, mom. The big 25 and you can’t be here. I’m here sitting with all of these feelings, we are staring at one another, unsure of what to do with ourselves. They are strange, sad, angering and isolating, these endless futures that will never happen. I miss you, these three words are so simple yet that’s almost all that I’ve been able to say when I think of you. These memories are held alive solely through my memory and each year that passes your face gets dimmer, your voice gets left behind in the past, the sound of the waves and the sand under our feet are all I’m left with. “


“We take the people in our lives for granted so easily. We forget that time passes and that the lives we might be imagining for ourselves, the endless possibilities of futures also taken so casually for granted, that we forget that often, life ends up truly being oh so incredibly short, in the cruelest of ways. We never stop to think of our lives without those that have always been there, because we assume that they always will be. We ignore phone calls, postpone dinners and push back and back things that could easily be done today. We imagine our lives and kindly include those around us in some milestones, we think of our accomplishments, school, career, goals, love, kids, birthdays and Christmases – we never stop to think that the phone call we postponed would have been the last. Could have been something. Could have been. That lack of a phone call has emptied me, I long to be whole again.


“The pain that I experienced that day has changed over the years. 5 years have gone since your passing, and the woman that I am is someone I like to believe you would have liked. Those tears I cried hidden in that bathroom, alone and sobbing onto those white tiles, I remember them well, but I’ve left them where they belong. The pain that I felt that day, that hollow feeling deep within my being, I have filled with something else. I was a girl then, and today I am a woman. I was saved by your hands and given back life through the kindness in your smile. In the corner of your mouth I found a home, it was hot, bright, the days were long and the nights were sweeter than sugar. In the sound of your voice I heard something soft and honest, and I was made whole again, until you departed. Time has passed, I now have constructed a home of my own in the corner of my own mouth, it is bitter, but it mine. And it will always be yours.


“The night I saw for the first time a sky I’d never seen before and ever since, thousands of holes poked through the dark ceiling, the universe shined brightly as you stood next to me in a dark that wasn’t dark at all. Mornings awakened by a sun from another universe, a hot wind on my skin and a warmth inside my heart. That last summer I spent at home with you, the beaches, the sand between my toes, the bluest of all skies and the scent of lemon and green tea at every corner. It’s all carved in my memory. That summer I came to you for saving and liberation, and I eft with a heart that was filled with something I have only been able to truly understand now. Those holes in the night sky I will always remember. The sand and the warmth on the sole of my feet, my skin will always remember. My body, as I was surrounded by ocean, salt, sun & the universe, in that moment with you I became whole, I will always remember. My birthday is around the corner and tomorrow I shall slice lemons & make some tea. As I bathe under the warmth and light of my own sun, I realized that a part of you remained and remains with me, sand & water, warmth and tea, love & lemons.

by Aurelie Nix

When I published my first picture/text, I was a little nervous. I wasn’t necessarily nervous of being judged or anything of the sort, rather, I felt some discomfort at the idea of putting myself out there and be so very naked and vulnerable. I was met with so much warmth, understanding and empathy, it filled me with so much love and inspiration, I wanted to keep writing, keep sharing, keep interacting with people who understood. People opened up themselves to me, shared their own stories of loss, pain, loneliness and insolation and I hope that I helped them feel even a little bit like they made me feel: understood, appreciated and loved.

Women in Gaming: 

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