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15 October, 2005 - 3:51 p.m.
something deep for a change.

Sometimes I wonder about how coldly we put other people's tragedies to rest without a second thought about whether or not they're ok. We watch the news, "oh how sad", turn it off, and go about our lives like nothing ever happened. There's a filmstrip in my head of all of the national disasters we've had in my life's memory and, juxtaposed atop that, a flimstrip of all of my life's hurts and losses. I just wonder about how quickly we go into denial, into apathy, into a sense of false resiliance and security without really taking the time to put ourselves back together. And how we really don't take the time to grieve and mourn our losses, because people are telling us that it's ok and that we'll be fine and that time heals all wounds and we go through the days, weeks, and months of trying to express that pain... only to see the look of "she's talking about that again" on the faces of those we thought cared. They just assume that we're fine and over it because they are (because it never touched them as deeply).

I did a group on Friday about the baggage we carry with us and it's had me thinking, which most of my groups do. That's important, too, that I learn something from my patients just as much as they learn from me. I talked about how we dismiss people like, "don't date her, she has too much baggage". And how we take the past with us wherever we go. We fill up a suitcase of memories with every passing year. Happy memories are lighter than air and take no energy to carry. Other memories can be defined by the weight that they pull you with. I talked about how we need to learn to take enough time to heal so that we can let the heavy memories stay in the past. So that we're not dragging them with us and carrying them around and being weighed down by them. I talked about the importance of letting things go. And about patterns (of course, I always talk about patterns). And about karma. And about living for the future, not staying in the past. And I think that it really touched some people and made them think. We had our first really serious, deep, thoughtful group in a very long time. And I feel good about it. I always have the best groups when I just come in and talk about what's on my mind. The ones I prepare for are such big failures. It's like they can sense that my heart isn't in it.

We talked about what I call "the vortex of suck" (of course, they don't know that because that's not really a professional term. it's just something i use in my own head and in my journals). The Vortex of Suck is any person, place, or thing that exudes such negative energy that they suck the life out of you. Like, you can feel them walk into the room and the mood changes. I am so sensitive to that. The biggest example I can come up with is on The Surreal Life. Janice Dickenson. So negative that she makes everything she's a part of a terrible experience. And when she finally climbed out the window and left the set, the others were able to have a good time.

I've been in a pretty deep mood since I woke up today. I woke up with my grandmother on my mind and I cried for the first time in forever. She's a part of my heart and soul and I carry her with me everywhere. She was irritating and hard of hearing and maipulative. And at the same time, very loving and generous and she didn't take very good care of herself and I tried so hard to be there to do things for her and it angered me so much that it was just me and mom and my sister helping out when we have so many more family members. And it angers me that she didn't take good care of herself and it was like she wasn't even important to herself. And my baggage isn't her or her personality, which was funny and endearing and worth remembering. It's my feelings about the last ten years and people taking advantage of her finances and her not being able to say no. And it's my grief about sitting there in that aweful room waiting and watching her die. And her not being able to get the words "i love you" out, even though that's what I knew she was trying to say. And my brother not being able to get a pass out of jail to come and be there because it was a holiday. And feeling like I'm the only one who still hears her voice and remembers the way her hands felt and the way her feet would swell up over the tops of her shoes. And remembering her as I walk through the craft section at Wal*mart because she and I would pick out buttons and fabrics and threads and talk about how thread now isn't as good as the stuff from the 60s and how fabric is just not as good as it used to be. And how, little by little, she would give me part of her stash. I got some great 1960s polyester and some quilting pieces and craft yarns and threads and buttons and bias tape.

And today, I can't let her go. As graduation gets closer and closer, as we get closer to her first birthday since she died, I think of her more and more often. I am overcome.

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