(photo off the web)

Now the giddiness died down and I feel weak. Weak that I need help, need a therapist. And I don’t think this of anyone else. I should be strong, OK without one. Going to one will set up this need and make it stronger.

My thoughts run ragged. Settle down. It’s OK. You’re OK. Yet I’m driven to eat until my stomach hurts. How can that be helpful? Where has the tendency gone to not need food?

The oppressive heat comes early, as soon as the sun tips over the trees. Don’t sit here obsessing, morose, despondent over this choice of searching for help, despondent because brothers who I thought were brothers are merely just others born into the group of people I lived with. We cannot be close. Maybe they love me in their own way, but not as the person I really am. I am to be pitied, but not heard.

I put on heavy jeans, socks, sneakers, and a sweatshirt. The berries I pick in the patch at the end of the yard are old and the thorns cut deep. The only way to pick thoroughly is to dress for it.

Before the sun spills out baking the earth yet another day, I take my basket to the patch. Hearing the morning peepers and birds busy at task eases my unsettledness. The dead branches must be pushed down to reach the newer fruit laden ones. The little basket fills but with some cuts on my hand that need attention later to avoid infection.

This day’s pickings are dumped into the freezer bag which holds the last two pickings. It will take twice the normal amount of berries to make jelly because only the juice is used. These berries remind me of the scent of cotton candy at the fair which begins in a few weeks, an exotic aroma that makes me feel dreamy.

But the seeds make it impossible to enjoy. The apple grinder won’t strain the tiny seeds. So they are wrapped in cheesecloth then hung from the cupboard handle over a bowl and strained overnight. All this for five little jars of deep purple gold, so precious only my sons and Stevie, a raspberry lover, have been recipients.

Do the things you love while you can and when you can. Summer’s almost at end. Live it. Sweat in it, swim in it, work in it. Live. Stop sweating the small stuff and live big…simply.

These lilies were given to me by my friend Sue, an avid gardener who passed away from the ravages of cancer about 3 years ago. She wanted to make sure I had one of every color. One is missing though so I may have to give my camera a whirl…

Picture 083

Picture 3240

Picture 3216

Picture 3243

Picture 3226


15 thoughts on “THERAPY

  1. There is nothing wrong with seeing a therapist. I started off with one and now have a EMDR therapist as well. I understand the feelings but just know it is not wrong. We see them because of all of stuff we have been through. We arent seeing them because we are bored and just want to pass the time. Im proud anymore to tell people I am seeing therapists because I know how hard it is to go. Therapy is hard work and the fact that you are doing it shows how strong you are. Stay strong.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Oh that is so kind, and so true. I know that in my mind of course, I have sought out therapy off and on since leaving home at 18.
      Thank you for such supportive comments. I do believe it shows strength in a person’s character to seek help when needed. Now to apply that premise towards myself!


      1. I know exactly what you are saying I forget that at times myself! Just keep that in mind that it’s hard hard work so to do it means you are stronger than you believe! 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

  2. this is something you have thought a lot about. A part of you that longs to be heard on your healing journey. I haven’t been posting much but I want to share with you something I wrote last week about therapy–what therapy feels like for me and you can join my sisterhood of purpose. ‘A created space to find courage to face our fears, a place where we can be whoever we are accepted with every gift and flaw of our being because we are perfectly imperfect. We are stronger together (got that from the Democratic campaign). Possibly the sisterhood will reach across every continent, spreading with it love, light, hope and positive energy. For now it exists in my therapy space. That is what my T helps me with and that is maybe what you will find.’

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes, I have thought about it, a lot, and tried on more than occasion but giving up due to the drudgery and loss of hope of ever finding one.
      Such beautiful sentiments you shared, and powerful. Thank you for taking the time to offer such encouragement.
      I especially like ‘perfectly imperfect.’


  3. You aren’t broken or weak. It’s okay to need a therapist. We all have needs, and those needs aren’t bad. A therapist can help fill those needs. It’s okay to need a therapist. I hope that as you start therapy you can believe this. You are very, very strong. But we all need help sometimes. Xx

    Liked by 1 person

  4. This sounds like the type of inner talk that often happens when at some level I’m trying to protect myself from something painful. And therapy of the sort that you would be doing often is painful, which is why it actually takes so much strength. It’s also scary to make ourselves vulnerable to someone whom we aren’t really sure yet that we can trust.

    Sometimes the “mean” voices are really reflections of our fears and old methods of trying to keep ourselves as safe as possible. But I hear you also wanting to grow past the old ways…

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s