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