Four weeks of death, with some loss thrown in on the side.
No, I haven’t lost (or misplaced) anyone this month. It’s my Crisis and Trauma class. The prof’s specialty is dying and bereavement, so we’re getting heavy doses. I had to write a list of all of my personal losses (any loss, not just death) that I could remember, rating each as minor, moderate, or major. Seven pages later, I was unaccountably depressed.
No fear. I learned a long time ago to take time out and remind myself of my good qualities and accomplishments. I didn’t plunge into the depths of despair.
If she doesn’t stop bringing up Christian Grey, though, I just might. Tonight she let us know that she approved of his therapist.
Good to know.
I haven’t gotten that far yet. I’m only on p. 135 or thereabouts. They’ve just had sex, and his mother has let herself into his apartment, ready to burst into the bedroom. I figured that was a good stopping place.
I had to read about death, you see. And oppression, poverty, and mental illness. But mostly death. And some loss.
Speaking of loss, did you see how badly the 49ers got spanked by the Seahawks? Couldn’t happen to a better team. I’d like to think it will teach Harbaugh, QB Colin Kaepernick, etc. some humility, but I won’t hold my breath. I still need oxygen to exist.