It’s been over eighteen months since Sarah died and even given the up-and-down nature of grief and the fact that everyone says the second year is harder than the first, things have been pretty rough for me. Breaking my wrist didn’t really help at all and I’ve just been pretty bummed out lately.
A friend of mine advocated for me getting more talk therapy and recommended her therapist who she saw for about a year after her mother died. I decided to give her a call. She sees most of her clients virtually. She has kind of a squeaky voice. Weirdly she keeps parakeets and you hear them squawking sometimes in the background.
I won’t actually start therapy with her until March 19. Sometimes I try to talk myself out of it. Maybe the parakeet thing is too weird. But maybe Sarah would have really liked the parakeets.
The First Year Without Sarah 