Dear Peaceful Heart,
Tomorrow marks the death day of my mother.
She left this world through MAiD ā Medical Assistance in Dying. It was her choice. One I now understand and will be choosing too.
You see, she drank to survive. And for years, I judged her.
Until I drank to survive, too.
Until trauma cornered me.
Until I saw the pattern, the pain, the lineage.
She trusted doctors. I trusted plants.
She turned to pills. I turned to stillness, to silent retreats, to tea.
She clung to food and sugar. I faced detox after detox.
We were different.
And yetā¦ we were the same.
We both endured:
Mould toxicity
MCAS (Mast Cell Activation Syndrome)
PTSD
Histamine overload
Suicide ideation
And a medical system that failed us
Doctors never took our pain seriously.
They drugged her.
They dismissed me.
She was loud. So they sedated her.
I became quiet ā and invisible.
An Observer of life.
I now walk through chronic illness,
Pain and fatigue visit daily.
Iāve loved and been betrayed.
Iāve poured love into people who didnāt stay.
Now, Iām pouring that love back into myself.
This story isnāt about giving up.
Itās about reclaiming choice in a system that fails the most sensitive.
Itās about ancestral trauma, invisible illness and the peace we rarely speak of.
To those carrying heavy, silent pain ā I see you.
To the daughters of broken-hearted mothers ā I hear you.
To the ones hiding in shame ā please, come into the light.
This Mother's Day, look at her again.
Not through judgment, but through the lens of pain, lineage, and grace.
And if youāre healing?
Youāre already breaking the cycle.
Youāre already a warrior.
In Peace,
I love you Mom,
Dee, Your proud Daughter xo
Holistic Doula of Love & End-of-Life Peace
Root-Cause Trauma Educator
www.destresswithdee.love/
P.S. If your doctor ever prescribed antibiotics without guidance on probiotics, youāre not alone. Comment or share. Our microbiomes deserve better.
šæ P.S. As I tend to my own Buddha Berry Tree, Iāll be guiding a small group of kindred souls through a 21-Day Spring Renewal Detox beginning May 21st.
We have 16 spots left ā and Iād love to welcome a few good men navigating andropause, and women carrying the weight of menopause.
This isnāt just about food ā itās about healing womb and environmental woundsā¦ gently, in community.
If youāre feeling the call to reset with love, stillness, and support,
šø comment āpeace pleaseā below.
You are not alone.
We rise and renew ā together. ššæ
Dear Mom,
You left this world in peace ā through MAiD, with dignity, on your terms. Two days from now, I will honour your death day not with regret, but with reverence.
I used to judge you for drinking.
Until I drank to disappear too.
Until trauma held me in its grip, and I saw the pattern, the pain ā our shared storm.
You trusted doctors.
I turned to tea leaves and trees.
You reached for pills.
I reached for silence.
You were loud, so they sedated you.
I was quiet, so they dismissed me.
We both endured the invisible:
Mould.
Mast Cells.
Suicide thoughts.
A medical system that never believed us.
You clung to sugar.
I surrendered to detox.
You survived the only way you knew how.
And now, so do I.
You taught me how to feel everything.
How to fight for peace.
How to choose my own way out ā not from despair, but from clarity.
Iāve poured my love into people who left,
Now Iām pouring it back into me.
Into healing. Into soil. Into stillness.
This letter is not goodbye.
Itās thank you.
For your voice. For your rage. For your wounds.
For loving me the only way you could.
This Mother's Day, I see you clearly ā
not as broken, but as brave.
And to all daughters of broken-hearted mothersā¦
You are love.
You are peace.
You are the cycle-breakers.
I am because you were.
And I carry you still ā
in every cup of tea,
every quiet breath,
and every choice for peace.
With all my heart,
Your Goose š»