notes from a fried brain
I have a lot to say, but I’ve not been sleeping well and the reality of that is catching up with me. I can’t count on my thought processes when I’m tired, I’ve learned from experience.
I called about counseling today. It only took about ten minutes of blubbering and shaking for me to put the call through. The woman did not make me feel ridiculous in any way. She did ask why I thought my wife had NPD, which I wasn’t prepared for, but it only took me a few seconds to recover. I got information. It was a step. Steps are good.
My son has very severe autism. I’m not able to fully delve into my feelings about losing my daughter now to NPD. I have to hold my guts together until I can get to triage, so to speak. I suppose I’m a bit Pollyanna about life, but then aren’t we all? I recognize the fact, through my philosophical and spiritual explorations, that healing, or at least meaning, is still possible, even where great loss has taken place. I’m reserving judgment about the future. I’m reserving judgment about my daughter and about grieving. I don’t have enough information yet to presume to begin processing anything. There may be great pain ahead. I believe I can traverse it.