As I said in my temporary speech at my college reunion, “Life is too precious to spend on things I don’t love.” I’m glad that when I heard that Tony had the same cancer that killed Senator John McCain and my friend Michelle last year, I bought one of his books and sent him a card telling him I was reading it and how much I loved him.
Last night, when Michael and I were doing our temporary Sunday shopping routine at our local supermarket, I deliberately took photos of sympathy cards to comfort myself.
I now get comfort from sharing all these contemporary photos with you:
Even though life on this earth is temporary, certain things linger, like the distinct laughs of my late friends Hillel and Tony, who both passed away this September. I can easily imagine both of their wonderful laughs, here and now.
In honor of Tony, who played guitar and loved music, I’m posting a tune I associate with him, at the end of this post.
I’m hoping I can get temporary coverage today at work so I can attend one of the memorial events for my late, great friend Tony today.
Thanks to all those who helped me temporarily forget my grief by creating this post and — of course! — thanks to you.
Yesterday, when I was letting it out at cardiac rehab, Danise let it out, like so:
Danise — who helps people, like me, who are recovering from cardiac surgeries let it out on exercise machines and in other healing ways — let it out by telling me about a dream she’d had the night before. After the TV coverage let it out that Donald Trump was on his way to winning the U.S. presidential election, Danise dreamed she found Hillary Clinton in her home flipping things over (as Danise is demonstrating, above). In her dream, Danise said to Hillary, “Let it out, girl! ”
After I let it out with Danise and others at cardiac rehab, I went home where I let it out with our two cats. I also let it out by turning on the TV, where I was privileged to witness Hillary Clinton letting it out with her concession speech.
I have to let it out with you, my dear readers, that when I typed that previous sentence, I erroneously wrote “acceptance” rather than “concession.” As my boyfriend Michael and I have been letting it out with each other after the shock of the election result, we’ve discussed how the stages of grief include denial.
Speaking of the stages of grief, my son Aaron sent me these messages, yesterday, from Scotland:
very very odd
it feels like someone died
Michael, Aaron, and I then let it out with each other during two extended FaceTime sessions.
I also believe that letting it out — where “it” includes all your feelings — is therapeutic. I will let it out, now, that if I didn’t believe that, I would not have become a psychotherapist nor would I have started this daily blog.
One more way I let it out on Facebook the day after the U.S. election:
I made it through open heart surgery for this?
I think it’s time to let it out by including all my other photos from yesterday:
If you have thoughts or feelings about this post, please let it out in a comment, below.
I hope I let it out how grateful I am to all who help me let it out in this daily blog and to you — of course! — for being with me as I let it out, here and now.
Yesterday, during a therapy session. I wrote this on my office whiteboard:
I wrote that for somebody who’s been having some very painful and stubbornly unshakable worries about the future. Recognizing that as a helpful antidote for the cognitive distortion of catastrophizing, she took a picture of it, so she could look at it whenever the negative, frightening thinking came back.
As you can see, I took a picture of it also, to help with my own automatic, fortune-telling thoughts.
I think that picture has been working, because I do believe that I’m going to be okay … today, tomorrow, and the next day.
Do you believe that, now, for yourself?
Here are some other things I believe that helped me (and perhaps others) to be okay, yesterday:
Okay! I do love adventure, but I don’t think I should howl at this particular moment. I believe that howling is okay, but it’s extremely early in the morning, right now.
Believe that I’m going to be okay today at a conference on medical practice innovation in Boston (and afterwards, at one of my therapy groups at work).
Before I leave, is it okay if I share some “Believe that you’re going to be okay” music?
I believe that you’re going to be okay with one of these “Believe” songs.