Yesterday I started therapy again. I had seen this particular therapist a few times before my mom went into the hospital and I just haven’t had the energy or inclination to go back until recently when I realized just how much trouble I was having processing the death of my mom. Blogging about it has helped but overall I have been feeling stuck in a mindset that wasn’t healthy. For example, a package arrived for my mom while she was in the hospital that still sits unopened. Every time I slip up and look at the box I think that I have to wait for my mom to come home to open it. This always triggers my grief and I end up curled up on the sofa sobbing. So I do my best to ignore the box that sits on a chair in the dining room. I realize it’s only been seven weeks since my mom passed away. I know I’m very early into the grieving process, whatever that means, but I’m so aware of becoming lost in my grief, of sinking into it and allowing myself to drown in this sadness that burbles just underneath the surface of my consciousness. I’m learning that getting through this loss is more than taking care of my physical self but my mental, psychological, and spiritual self as well. So I’m seeing a therapist again as part of my ongoing effort to make my way through this unknown journey.

Miniature Poetic Rant

I’m over playing your cruel games

Fed up with you calling me ugly names

Always trying to follow your rules

That you constantly change to make me the fool

I’m over and done, you’re on your own.

I’m taking my ball and going home.


I was going through some of my old writings today and came across this one. I don’t know how long ago I wrote it but someone must have pissed me off that day, lol.  I’ve always used writing as self-therapy. Processing trauma, confrontation, and other emotional issues by sculpting prose or poetry. I don’t really react in the moment to confrontation, I’d rather walk away and think about it and if I get a chance address it at a later point in time. I guess I’m a thinker not a fighter.