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Her brother died thirty years ago. She still grieves – which is understandable – but she also thinks badly of herself, believing that the wrong person died.
I did a session of EMDR with her and she now thinks about herself with greater understanding.

I worked very hard today and there is only one way to describe it. I like this feeling.

There are still piles of things on the floor of my new flat. I never realised that moving could take so long but I’m as busy as ever and living it. The chaos can continue for a bit without me feeling too guilty about it.

I had intended it to be a helpful – and even supportive – observation. That was not how it was perceived.

I wonder why it is that I am a more diligent sponsor than sponsee. Maybe I think I know everything.

There are so many words to describe what I feel about the loss of my wife. Despair and depression aren’t right because they focus too much on me. Similarly, anger and resentment miss the spot because they are, to my mind, self-indulgent. Grief and melancholy are too medical, lonely is too practical, grateful and hopeful are too religious or weird. Sorrow says something that I believe she and I can share, each of us feeling it for the other person and for ourself.

I wonder what it was that she didn’t want to think about today.

He is definitely on his way now. He can’t come back from the level of physical destruction that he has reached. Yet his spirit is still strong. What a wonderful man.