Boy she yelled at me...My therapist that is. I always thought that was a huge no no. Maybe it still is among the more traditional therapists. Anyway I'm ok. No one ever said this was going to be easy. Whatever it takes to move forward. And I am moving forward.Yesterday I got rid of the sofas that used to belong to Stus' parents. The sofas, that he slept on and left his glasses under when he walked in the bathroom to take the oxy contin and light the bbq grill to kill himself.

The yell fest had to do with my crossing my daughters boundaries. It's all so familial. The hardest part of today was not being yelled at, but the idea that i had violated her boundaries the same way that Rita had with Stu. God, she is the last human being on this planet I want to be like. She's like the mother Shelly Winters played in Next Stop Greenwich Village.Me??? I like to think of myself like the Mom in the Gillmore Girls. Young, hip and supportive. More than a little unconventional. More hippie than mommie dearest. In any event, I plan on apologizing to my dd when she gets home today.

I bought dd a card today..Below is the poem on the card. I have lived most of my adult life in the tangle of fear thinking. I am beginning to move outside

move outside the tangle
of fear-thinking

Live in
silence

Flow down and down
in always
widening rings
of Being.

author...Rumi

UPDATE....I handed her the card, told her my therapist reemed me todayy apologized for boundary violation.

more on the short story about my mother and family

She mothered her baby dolls in the box Masha decorated as her doll house. its me, from my sisters story.Dolls were an important part of my childhood.

It's really my doll from my child hood the late 50s Cleaned up.Until last week dirty and damaged.Like me. I asked a new friend who is also a doll collector if she knew of a doll hospital. She took the doll, cleaned her up and put new clothes on her.

motherhood..in my 20s..I never wanted children. I tried to have my tubes tied.Planned parenthood wouldn't. How profound is that?? I have this incredible daughter about to make her own way in the world. I cannot imagine my life without her in it. Considering my own mother, its a miracle that I even knew what to do with my own daughter.

reading the short story written by my older sister

I married my mother. Its such a fucking cliche...Like my dead husband, in the short story my mother used to bang her head against the wall. Reading this part of the story is so visceral I start to cry. I remember sitting on my bed above his office in the weeks leading up to his suicide. I hear him banging his head against his desk and I am not a 55 year old woman anymore but a child. A child who needs her mother, but her mother is depressed and selfish. Just like my dead husband.

homework assignment-for 24 hours don't talk about Dani

for one day...it was amazing...I had time to think about me.

FYI.the font used in the no Dani graphic is the font Dani.

a poem after therapy

who is me
maybe
YES