🍚 The Grief Inside the Rice

It hit me mid-class.

Boiled eggs and rice.

I was on “Embody Your True Essence” Insta live, and I shared a memory surged up like a wave I couldn’t ignore.

My mother.

That one day she overslept.

She still cooked for me.

But I remember feeling abandoned.

That audacity of my younger self—feeling let down, when she had cooked for me 364 other days without fail.

And I see it now.

That wasn’t her failure.

That was my blindness.

🥚 When Anger Breaks Open Grief

I used to think I was just angry.

But every time I let myself feel it fully, grief follows.

Grief for what I couldn’t see.

Grief for how much my mother gave… and how I took it for granted.

This is not a blog about food.

This is about emotional indigestion.

The kind that happens when we can’t digest the love we were given because it didn’t look like what we thought love should be.

🧬 Fascia Holds It All

My fascia remembers the eggs.

The rice.

The morning silence.

The tension in my jaw that said, “You should have been up.”

But today, my fascia says something else:

“She was tired. And she still cooked.”

“She gave. And gave. And gave.”

“She loved you the only way she knew how.”

That’s what broke me open.

That’s what made me cry.

⚔️ The Audacity of Expectation

I didn’t know I have carried resentment for years.

And under that—grief.

And under that—gratitude so big I didn’t know how to feel it.

This season is a season of grief.

And I am learning to release what I carried:

— The weight of misunderstood love

— The guilt of having once felt angry

— The reverence for mothers and women who give until they vanish

🌊 What This Fascia Oracle Knows Now

Anger is the surface.

Grief is the truth.

Gratitude is the medicine.

I had to feel it all to finally let it go.

And I know I’m not the only one.

Many of us are holding emotions that aren’t even ours—

Generational grief, ancestral exhaustion, maternal devotion unrecognized.

We don’t need to carry the weight anymore.

Not for them. Not for us.

But we do need to feel it.

And thank it.

To every mother, every woman, every being who gave quietly while others expected loudly—

I see you.

I see her.

I see me.

And I release it all… through rice and tears.

With endless gratitude,

Ikue

Fascia Oracle™