Author, Speaker, Psychotherapist
(Originally published in The Redbud Post, 9.1.19) A lovely young woman sits across from me in my small therapy office, buttoned up so tight it looks like she’s hardly even breathing. Her lips are pressed together as she carefully folds, then refolds, the clean Kleenex on her lap. Then she stops, looks up at me,…
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We have slowly found our way to a measure of redemption.
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Seeing them in this victimized state was just as shocking as it would be to see our beloved Snoopy with a black eye.
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…she chose to focus on the one and only positive aspect of his death: his freedom.
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If I have any say in the matter, I will not take a step forward.
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“When I look at this photo, I see the man behind the camera…”
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My life keeps moving forward, even though at times it feels as if it should have stopped on that surreal day–like a clock whose hands are frozen at the exact moment it got knocked off the mantel.
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Kaleidoscope…pieces could never return to their original, intact state. But because they were broken–and broken together–they were creating beauty all the same.
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…Trying to create a “Merry Christmas” for our families when we’re still in those first tender stages of recovery can feel like trying to decorate the perfect cake for a six-year-old when all you have to work with is black frosting.
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I had prepared myself to see it (or so I thought)…
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