As soon as I published it, the feeling of holding back the dam went away. I slept better and I stopped flipping out for no reason (or at least not as often or as dramatically.) I've told friends what happened, without giving all the shocking or explanatory details. I've been cursing Kubler-Ross and her stupid stages of grief for months, but damn. She might be on to something. The circumstances around his death meant that there wasn't much room for denial, but good lord I made up for it in anger. I'm not entirely not angry, but it is SO much better. I don't fear for people's safety and I haven't gone off on a stranger in weeks. I think C is breathing a bit easier as well.
I don't love therapy. Every week I try to talk myself out of going. I love being a shrink because I get to be the listener. It doesn't come naturally to me to spend an hour talking about myself and scratching below sarcasm and gallows humor. But man, it's helped a lot. Sometimes it's the space to have feelings, where I don't have to mitigate them because my kids are around or I need to go to the grocery store or whatever it is. Sometimes it's to sit and talk through some benign issue that I can't figure out because decisions can be hard these days. And my going has made it easier for the kids too. Eli asked if he could start therapy and we've found him an amazing therapist that really seems to speak his language.
As I'm heading into Father's Day weekend, I think I'm going to be okay. For anyone out there that's lost their dad, or who is struggling for other reasons, I think we're going to be okay. I'm trying to intentionally send out love and kindness into the world, so please know that I'm rooting for us all.
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