I am reading all of these lovely inspirational, moving, deeply thought, resonating articles and books from lovely empathetic/sympathetic peoples.
I’m just not there yet, y’all.
I feel that you want me to be there.
Believe me, I WANT me to be there.
The best I can hope for today, is that I have trudged through the deepest muck of MrexH situation, and am passing through the bit of squashy junk before emerging out.
Also, I hope that I have some sturdy boots on. I can’t even tell if I do or not.
It’s also okay if I have on an off-white trench coat, which is so gunked up from the muck, that it has frayed at the bottom. Uh-oh, now I’m picturing an old-timey leather car-driving cap and ridiculous goggles as well.
It occurs to me that I should reconsider finding a new therapist to speak with and work through some of the emergence from muck. The screaming in my head might be a big clue for me…
I am really not interested in going through my back-story with another person, though. I have told this tale over and over and over and over and over and over and well, over and over
Can you give a therapist a document dump, or at least Cliffs notes, to avoid speaking those words again?!!?
I just want to walk in, have a gentle greeting, and listen to sage advice from someone who knows stuff and can see me enough to help me reveal myself to myself.
I can pay them in tea, blueberry zucchini brownies, and a hearty companion for The Philadelphia Story viewing.
Meet me at the corner of close and soon, wise sage!
Love, Ms. Herisme xo