words i hope save you
Words I Hope Save You is a podcast about finding strength in softness.
I’m Lia, a mother, a yoga teacher, a creative, and a woman learning to move through life with more presence, honesty, and grace.
These episodes are short letters, reflections on transitions, shifting dreams, loneliness, love, grief, resilience, and everything in between. They’re not lessons or instructions, just stories from my journey inward, shared in the hope that they resonate with yours.
If you’ve ever felt tired of being tough all the time, or wondered what’s next when your life no longer fits the old version of you, this is a place to pause, breathe, and be reminded that your softness is not a weakness, it’s your power.
words i hope save you
To my Mam on Mothers Day
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A love letter to my Mother. x
Welcome to Words, I Hope Save You. Today's episode is a special one, a short one, but a special one, in honor of my mom and Mother's Day. I wanted to write a letter to her, and since I've started this podcast, why not make it an episode? A public declaration of my love for my mother. So, mom, I hope these words find you and hold you because you are so special. Hey, mom. I'm not there with you right now, but in the quiet spaces between breaths, I am. One of the most beautiful things I find about being human, about love, is how little it takes to return to someone. I can close my eyes, I can take a big deep breath in, and suddenly I can feel things. I can feel your hug, I can feel your smell, I can feel your presence. I love how love travels in ways that we can't see. When I hug you, I think of your mom, and I think of dad's mom too. I think of the line of women behind us, the lives they carried, the things they endured, and the things that they never got to say out loud. And I think we made it. We made it here. To this point, through all of that, we made it to this moment. Mom, you broke cycles. And because you broke them, I learned that I could break them too. You did things that your own mother couldn't do. And because of that, the pattern shifted. The story changed. I've loved you deeply my whole life. This year, something feels different. Over this year, I've sometimes imagined you when you were my age. I even had a dream about it a couple of weeks ago. That I was watching you, my age, with all of us. So now when I look back, I see you in a completely different light. Not just as my mom, but as a woman. A woman who carried, a woman who kept going, a woman who gave love even when life was hard. And the light I see now is brighter, it's fuller, it's warmer, and it's a glow made from everything that you've survived and everything you gave. This year you made changes that I know once felt impossible. And watching you do that has expanded my heart in ways I can't quite explain. Mom, I am so proud of you. You are the glass to my red wine, the warm hand when I feel lost, the quiet place my heart always knows how to find. To the most beautiful woman in the world. I love you always.