Unresolved Grief

Unresolved Grief

I sit and await the psychologist in the strip lit waiting room

I take out my knitting, knit one, pearl one

The fluorescent bulbs flicker and hum as I concentrate on my pattern

Knit one, pearl one

A warm faced woman approaches and beckons me to follow her

I put away my distraction and oblige

We enter a small box room with two chairs and a small window

We are seated.  

She starts by referencing the long delay between assessment and appointment

Four months I say

We speak, I answer her probing questions and then

I begin to cry and it is flooding out of me 

Like a faucet that cannot be turned off, or a river whose levees are broken

I cry

I ask for a tissue as I can no longer breathe

That’s a lot to deal with she says, and with a new baby

I apologise, embarrassed by my reaction to a few simple questions

Our focus will be on my intrusive thoughts and I am asked to consider

A book, Don’t drop the baby and other intrusive thoughts

There is a deeper issue here she posits

As she proffers another tissue


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