A true reset

Blueman is my port in a storm. Truly. He's mild mannered to my moodiness.

 As a person who loves words, I'm often inspired, touched, moved, or even sometimes a manipulator of words. Last night we were watching a show together and the therapist said something to the effect of, "her internal hoard is almost as large as her physical one".

Now we know what a physical hoard looks like. Sometimes it's garbage, sometimes clothes or shoes or collectibles, but in all cases it's more than you need or can handle and usually in a space not designed to hold that much. An internal hoard. That took me aback. What was that? The therapist answered. In that particular case, she mentioned the hoarder held all of her hurts inside, collecting them until they were too much to handle.

I considered this and even yesterday's post where I said much the same thing.  I think I hold these hurts and dramas close as though it will insulate from newer ones happening. They will still happen, regardless. For health's sake, I must learn to wash off the prick of the memory nettles and scab up.  We all have scars from past hurts.

Blueman let me talk this through offering input when necessary. He lets me walk my mental path out loud, using his words to add depth to the journey. I truly love this man.