April 25, 2009

I chose to be my own shrink. For lots of complicated, and some not-so-complicated reasons I chose not to lie down on the therapist's couch and tell her/him all about my life, my past, my reality, my dreams, my fears.

Mostly because grief - for me - meant distancing myself until I was, bit by bit, minute by minute, inch by inch ready to reclaim my life. And distancing meant shutting people out, not letting people in. I refused to accept any help whatsoever until I was ready not to get dependent.

In a way, when I was forced to let go of you, I let go of everything else that me made who I was as well. I hung on to what remained essentially a shell and then started layering it from the inside, slowly but surely. I took grief inside each new layer until it got deeper and deeper from the surface. I focused on little things that made me happy as if it was the othe larger, scarier realities did not exist. But they do.

And the truth is I still can't bring myself to open up the one folder on my computer that I click on every day. The one filled with pictures, with memories of you. I tried again today. I failed again today.

When will I be strong enough, I wonder, to allow myself to feel again?


brok3n said...

You have a folder too =/ ...I don't know wat to say. I guess I am in the same boat apart from the fact that I a still to let go.

•°¤*(¯`°sαєє∂α°´¯)*¤°• said...

wow... awesome blog. =]

ive come across it... duno how..and i see im on your blogroll.

how come ive never seen this before? *confused look on face*

anyhow.. thanks for the add. =]]


Anushay. said...

Sometimes, I just like deleting that folder. But can't. Good or bad, these visual memories are as good as anything.

Xeb said...

I'm talking about my father who was killed recently. There is no question of deleting the folder. The question, only, is when I'll be strong enough to take pleasure in all the memories instead of falling into a numbing ocean of grief whenever I come across them.