thank you, cyndi

15 months ago i walked into a strange office to meet a woman who had a warm smile and asked me to tell her about my mom. for weeks all i could do was cry and talk about how horrifying those 6 weeks were, 34 days from diagnosis to death. she listened, week in, week out. and on my very first night she taught me the biggest thing that i took away from therapy--to feel at the moment you are feeling. to not push those emotions away but to be present in them. to allow yourself to feel and process what you're feeling in that moment. even if it feels like total shit and it's painful, let the feelings happen and then in time they will pass. and when they do, you'll feel better for having allowed yourself to feel vs not and having them continue to bubble up over and over and over again.

so that became my method of survival this past year and a lesson that i'll always keep with me. i highly advise it...no matter how simple it sounds, it's true.

and somewhere along the way, i felt less shitty. and one day, i felt like i actually turned a corner with my grief. and while i think of my mom constantly. and i'm still haunted by the horrible memories of those 34 days, it's a lot less frequent. and more importantly i know how to process those emotions and in turn, they don't pull me back in to the dark place i once was. the feelings and memories are there, they always will be, but i know how to channel them. whether it be writing in my journal, or opening up to a friend, or just taking a walk and allowing myself the time to think, i do what i need to do.

it's funny, b/c when i read this back and hear myself say these things, i honestly can't believe it. if anyone would tell me i'd be where i am today 15 months after losing my mom, my best friend. 15 months after having the most traumatic 34 days of my entire life. 15 months after having my whole world rocked. and 15 months of spending that time alone, away from family and friends, just with myself and my therapist Cyndi. well, i would just never believe them. but it's true, here i am. i have survived. and i won't say i don't know how i got here, because i do. i worked really fuckin hard and staring my grief right in the face and trying to not let it ruin my life. i worked really hard to get back to a mindset that my mom would want. a happy, healthy, full of life mentality. i have (i hope) a lot of life left to live and i want to keep making my mom proud, even if she's not physically here to see it. and i know just by virtue of writing this post, i've made her more proud than we could both imagine. because with tonight being the "conclusion" of my 15 month therapy stint, i know she's saying " you go girl" now get out there and paint that new canvas in LA you went out to paint. and so that i am.

and i have cyndi to thank for that.