Allowing myself to be happy, after the death of my husband, always felt a little like betrayal. It felt like I was shouting from the highest peaks that life without him was enjoyable, like I didn’t care that he had ...
Our battle started in March 2021. The first few months we were, as Barrie himself put it “in good spirits”. We did all the treatments, in his case chemo and radiotherapy. He seemed to have killed the monster. We considered ...
It hurts intensely just to breath. Everything externally around you or internally within you seems to trigger stabs directly into your heart. You feel gutted out, as if just a shell remains The center of your being feels shattered. A ...
Have you heard of Breathwork? According to Wikipedia, Breathwork is a term for various breathing practices in which the conscious control of breathing is said to influence a person's mental, emotional, or physical state, with a therapeutic effect. This concept is ...
This is my first blog for this website and my first blog as a widow. I decided to share something that I wrote on the last day of May, which was Mental Health Awareness Month. I think it’s an important ...
My first grief therapy experience was a disaster – a Freudian approach connecting everything back to sex and my parents that left me feeling more broken and bewildered than when I began. The counseling was shoved in my face about ...
July 12th would have been our twenty-seventh wedding anniversary. In the seven years since Rick died, I’ve gone through many different stages of grief, and I’m a different woman than that distraught widow from years ago. Instead of sadness over ...
Tomorrow would have marked the 14th anniversary of a marriage that ended four years ago. Instead of a celebration, it’s a reminder of a chapter that closed painfully. There's a saying that you only fail when you quit, but I’m ...
I miss my husband every minute of every day. When the good things happen, I want to rush home and tell him all about every detail. When I am weary, the day was a let down, and things don’t go ...