In case you haven’t figured out, I use my blog as a kind of therapy.
I was in therapy for 1-1/2 years after my mom died and found it to be helpful but not something I wanted to continue. For one thing, my therapist, a lovely lady, liked to bring up things that I either didn’t want to deal with or wasn’t ready to deal with or thought I had dealt with. Sessions rarely made feel better and I generally felt more depressed than when I went in.
I went to counseling about 4 months after my mom died. I felt that losing one’s parents a scant 22 months apart was a bit much to deal with on my own and felt that professional assistance would be helpful. It was helpful. My therapist was genuine in her concern and care and I felt connected to her at once. But as the weeks went by and I got better and my grief slowly healed, I found myself not wanting to disappoint her when I had a bad day or a small set-back.
So, I stopped going. Since then, I’ve found it necessary to get my feelings out. I subject Moo to a great deal of it and sometimes I wonder when he will start charging me an hourly fee for his excellent psychoanalysis.
But sometimes, I just have to put it all out there and I need to wrap my feelings and thoughts around a thing and writing helps me do that. I can put my thoughts out, let things marinate, look at my thoughts again and refine them. A lot of what I write never makes it to this blog. I decide they are too private and save them to a file where I keep such things until I feel like I can let them go and then I delete, delete, delete.
Whether I post or delete, for me, the result is the same. I can get the thoughts out of my head and exorcised like a hoary demon. Once they are out, I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. And unlike therapy, I don’t feel like anyone is disappointed, I don’t owe anyone a co-pay, and I always leave happier.