Yeah, okay. I'll get right on that.

My counselor says I have to grieve.

I've been watching Downton Abbey instead. And Grey's Anatomy. And Modern Family. And reading books. And playing Spider Solitaire on my phone. Basically, whatever I can do with my time that is:

A) not work
B) not school
C) not grieving
D) not thinking about grieving

So I'm avoiding. But to be fair, she might as well have told me that I needed to procure the left front hoof of a unicorn, because I feel equally equipped to do both. The bottom line is that I don't know how to grieve. I don't know how to conjure up feelings of sadness if they aren't already there, or if they are there but are buried deep. And when they do make an appearance (which does happen from time to time), I get so caught up in wanting to do the right thing that I totally over-think it and then the moment is gone. I'm way too cerebral for grieving. And yet, according to the therapist, it must be done.

That's all I have to say about that. I'm labeling this with "transition", because I'm hopeful that's what it is.

In Transition

Hey ya'll. It's been awhile.

Since I last posted, I've moved. I've started my research proposal. I've been grieving the loss of my surrogate mother. I've been teaching. I've been sorting my belongings into complex categories (stuff I might need at the new place, stuff I want to keep in our storage unit, stuff to get rid of, stuff to ship to Australia...the list goes on). Oh, and this morning, someone smashed my driver's side window. Let's add that to the list, shall we?

All of that to say that I haven't been writing. But I have been thinking about writing. Posts are forthcoming, I just can't say when.

In the meantime, I have a new love I'd like to share with you: Jamie, the Very Worst Missionary. When I read this blog I am challenged to be more authentic, more hopeful, and more...me. Sarcasm, swearing, and all. Read it. You'll love it.