I’m not really over it. Busyness distracts. I hide it. The soul’s ellipsis. But, would anyone desire to see the labile affect? Not my boss, not a preacher, not my friend. Not you. Maudlin isn’t my preferred state. The pain is not ossified, rather peripheral and occluded, extant nevertheless. I suppose death and grieving takes a while.
And I am an effing crazy woman.
If I think of Dad or Davy- I just crack up. Not good to lose control in front of folks. Suppose sabbatical was a good choice. I still feel like I’m the colander of pain, filtering tears- so everyone assumes, that I am o.k.
I wonder if I can coerce myself to attend a group therapy session- suicide survivors?
I need to deal with grief, instead of ignore it and pretend it’s not there.
How do we deal with grief?
Shun the tears?