Be vewy vewy quiet, I'm hunting wabbits in my mind

Skipped my first week day post yesterday.  It was just so darn busy there was no time.

My mother’s husband is out of the hospital. With the help of Hospice, she took him home yesterday.

I went to a hospice grief bereavement support group on Tuesday night. First time I’ve been back to the group in months.  It felt good to talk a little bit.  I tend to ramble on (much like my writing) and meander back to tie things together at these meetings.  After the meeting the facilitator and I were catching up a bit and she good-naturedly chided me for having this image of myself as rambling. It was quite nice of her to say that I bring a depth and openness to the meeting, and that when I share it doesn’t ramble, but rather brings multiple aspects together. HA!

And to keep with the death and dying theme, I saw my shrink yesterday. She is really starting to kick my rear-end and have me look at myself more critically. She is moving me past the counseling of my grief and moving me towards looking at my other “Stuff” that affects me, and that has always been with me.

++++++++++++

My Father worked very hard all his life in a very physical manual labor job. He worked a lot of swing and graveyard shifts. He slept a lot in the day time. My mother would constantly try to keep my brother and I quiet. Her simple request of “Shhh, be quiet, your dad is sleeping” somehow added together with other stuff to transform in my mind to “Shhh, don’t speak up and be noticed” which of course then added up with my other insecurities of a lack of education to turn into “Shhh, don’t talk, and they won’t notice you have nothing worthwhile to say”

All of this is crazy talk, and my rational brain knows this. But the 12 year old hiding inside doesn’t like talking to my 44 year old brain. 

Bjork- It's oh so Quiet