So my mom made an appointment for her, my sister and I to go for counseling with my Dad's friend and colleague who works with families of cancer patients. I opted not to go at the last minute. 'Probably shouldn't have done that and I'm not quite sure why I did. Just the more I thought about going to talk about it, the less I wanted to do so. Part of it is that I'm not quite ready to go there, especially at the tail-end of a very intense week. My brother reminded me that yesterday was the five-year anniversary of putting our beloved family dog to sleep. So we have my birthday, Halloween and Kenzie's death three days in a row. I think if someone asked me a question about how I'm doing today, I would scream. Or cry. Or both. Either way, I'm just not ready.
My greatest strength and my greatest weakness is my fierce independence. I take care of myself. That's what I do. But sometimes I don't know when it's time to ask someone to take care of me. "Help" does not seem to be in my vocabulary. But I'm not as strong as I make myself look. I've got issues too. :)
The other concern is that going to her feels a bit too close for comfort. If I'm going to counseling, I'd rather go to someone I don't know. I'd rather go to address all of my "things" (as Meredith Grey would put it). I don't think I could talk to her about the many layers that make up my grief, or about the many things I am grieving. I'm all for going to someone I know OF, whose reputation tells me that I will be helped, but I just don't know. I'd rather start fresh. There is a lot of ground to cover.
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