Wednesday, June 3, 2015

(continued) news

I learned today that my old therapist Richard, the one I talk about so often on here, died this past February.

He was an incredible man.

A gifted healer.

There is an memorial this Sunday on what would have been his 71st birthday.

I feel very blessed to have been a miniscule part of his life.

Our last session together he told me that I was one of his more challenging clients, and working with me and seeing me grow reaffirmed to him why he chose to become a therapist.

It was an honor to work with him...and Ramsey (his collie at the time.)


I am working on the rest of the "(continued)" blogs today. I got a wee bit triggered last week by life  and had to stop and get grounded again. My daughter broke her arm and something about seeing it in a cast just sent me spinning. Gawd my head is a nut factory at times.

I think part of it was the sudden fear of CPS being called and the fear of being investigated and having my children removed. I wonder when that fear will go away? The accident happened at school for pete's sake.  I hope this underlying stress goes away once their both adults.

As I was getting a few drawings for the upcoming blogs I discovered two things.

dayum I was a good drawer back then. I wish I had drawn more in that head space.

And I totally wish I had the self confidence to have take 100's more of these type of shots...

But at that time...the 1990's I was still listening to all the nasty people out there who were calling me ugly, I hadn't yet learned to tune out their bullying slurs. There so deeply embedded in the subconscious mental chatter that I would look in the mirror and hear them.

At this time, there is only one voice in the sound track challenging them.


His quiet, from a neutral place, comment.

We had just looked at a bunch of my childhood pictures and he commented. "You were a pretty child."

I rocked back and bullied my self, "Yeah and I grew up to be ugly."

He continued, "Your still quite pretty."

I ran in my head at that point, dissociating out into multiple fragments, as this frightened me.

Later as I played the conversation over and over in my head, trying to detect any threats in his words, I realized his tone was one would use to talk about flowers.

His words stuck like a sticky bomb in my subconscious. As the years passed it spoke much louder then those who sought to tear me down.


  1. Thank you for sharing Paja, ya know it's such a small world! I knew Richard as well, I saw in many years ago during a "rough patch". He was such a kind/soft spoken/easy to talk with kind of man. I had no idea he had passed, I was very sad to read that.

    Again thank you for sharing your story. You've come a long way, Richard would be proud of you :-)

    1. They really nailed it on his obituary saying: "celebrate the life of this remarkable man" That word fits him perfectly. I have never met anyone else like him. We were pen pals off an on for years after therapy. The last time I wrote him was to update him on marrying Corey. He was so pleased.