Today I was in a place doing something that needed to be done. A lady there was having some sort of a medical emergency related to her heart. I was calm in the beginning and even offered to help in any way I could. Then her friend got on the phone with 911.
That's when I froze.
It all came back to me.
I stood up and moved myself away from the area, but at the same time, I had to remind myself to stay calm because I was there to get something done and it wasn't the time or the place to break down, if I could help it. All the medical professionals arrived. I watched them as they actually took their own sweet time to get to the poor lady.
My heart was racing and I was actually getting angry at them.
I kept thinking..."Hurry the hell up assholes!"
I wondered if they took their own bloody time to get to Jesse that night.
Maybe if they had hurried?
I know he was gone for at least a little while when I found him.
I also know I need to start seeing my therapist again. All the skills that I teach my clients as a therapist seem difficult for me to use for my own good.
I am not ready to be in therapy yet.
I am not ready to do the work.
Doing work means having to start the process of moving on.
I don't want to move on, yet.
I don't want to heal.
Can I be a functional human being meanwhile and keep my shit together so I can provide for the girls?
My grief is my own.
I don't feel like tearing my heart open to you and showing you the raw insides.