Frustrated with my newly adult 18-year old son who struggles with social anxiety and migraines. Though highly intelligent, he has not completed high school, nor has he taken scheduled high school equivalency tests.
Anxiety. Migraines. Reschedule. Repeat.
Yesterday, he did not go to his scheduled cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) evaluation. The CBT psychologist told me that we must make structured household changes in which we design and implement consequences. As is, he lacks motivation to change.
After drafting this post, I went to the pharmacy to fill my clonazepam prescription. I rarely take clonazepam, a benzodiazepine, for it’s a potentially addictive controlled substance. But, today I need it.
Treated myself to chicken enchiladas mole for lunch. I love Olamendi’s mole sauce. Chocolate and spices in the over 50-ingredient sauce help. Magic.
March 2015 I posted this poem as we mourned the loss of my husband’s oldest brother to lung cancer. My father recently died of undiagnosed lung cancer in spite of having quit smoking decades before he died.
I share it again to remind myself that grief is a blessing. We feel it because we love.
There is something both beautiful and sorrowful when someone or something dies. Something spiritual lives on. Love persists and is a blessing. I do not deny the pain of grief, but believe that death is a part of life, and that grief is a part of loving. There is no way to love without experiencing grief at one time or another.