Daffodils, tulips, crocuses pushing up their grey-green shoots.
You can never hold back spring. To quote the immortal Tom Waits.
My sadness washes over me in waves as I listen to Glassworks by Philip Glass, newly burned for me by K who has been here for the weekend. So beautiful.
Fire in the woodburner. Still good and light at five o'clock, a pale blue sky with fluffy white clouds and some darker ones, scattered. L in London, phoning soon.
It has been very hard at work. Sometimes I am ok, or ok enough, sometimes I'm not. Sleep is a significant factor. It is really hard to gauge and predict my emotional capacity. What is alright for me, what is alright for my clients... Difficult decisions lie ahead.
2 comments:
Oh Firebird, you've really had a horrible time, haven't you? Either one of those grotesquely wrong losses in itself would be heart-breaking, back-breaking, gut-wrenching, hideous; and you've been burdened with both, one on top of the other.
There isn't much one can say, and the danger of spouting platitudes is always there, and I try to avoid that. I agree with one of your commenters who marvelled at the way the beauty of your writing remains, in the face of all your adversities. I hope your ability to express at least some of what goes on within helps you, carries you through this time.
I think it's good that you can also feel anger, as you say in one of your posts, that you berate your therapist for leaving you. Feelings are not logical, and they need to howl themselves out into the world.
Keep on keeping on, Tulilintu of fire. Keep on burning, and rising.
x
Anna - welcome and thanks for your kind words
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