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Monday, January 27, 2014


I seem to be fine for a few days at a time, and then the grief washes in again and topples me--I do not know why this is on the magnitude of when my sister died, or my mother, but it's up in the top ten, for sure.  Curious, this intensity and these tears--I think this particular grief taps into deeper veins I have not yet released.  In that way, it is a good thing.  My therapist said the grief is extra intense because I lost so much in tandem with what happened--dance classes, writing groups, friends, etc., on top of newly being in chemotherapy with all its attendant fears, plus I had just left my job.  However much I considered that these things could happen one day (and I really did), it is hard to lose what was  a way of life for nearly five years.   I feel like a sea anemone that has been torn off the rocks and is bobbing around lost in the tide, though honestly I do feel a bit of anchoring-down starting to happen.  My real friends in this time have been amazing, offering to form writing groups with me and meeting for coffee when I am up to it.  It is not what I wanted, but it is what it is, and I feel grateful for just keeping on.  Plus, my body feels terrific and I have stamina that I haven't had in 20 years!

I am putting Thistle to bed early (CG is elsewhere tonight--he's tired and burnt out and needs time to recharge) and then I will retire and read in bed til I sleep (Blood Meridian is a great book for me, as I get lost in the story, outrageous as it is).  Sleep, after all, "knits up the raveled sleeve of care" (that's from Macbeth...really a nice line in a pretty gory play).

Tomorrow will hopefully be way or another, it generally is.