pure self-indulgence

It has been almost two months, and I have yet to write about my mother.

I know a lot of people process emotions by writing. My challenge is that I process them by talking to people, but I don't internalize them and really feel them until I spend time with them on my own. When I try to write in my journal and keep this to myself, I end up cheating myself. I tend to use a short hand that I expect future Monika to understand. I write a prompt, and then I get caught up in that one thought or distracted by life and I never come back to it. Writing here is different. It's terribly self-indulgent and probably narcissistic, but it forces me to follow through on my thoughts and actually deal with whatever I'm feeling.  

I'm posting this disclaimer of sorts to explain why I’m choosing to share so much in such a public way – why I always do, really – but why it is particularly important now.  I haven’t yet really cried over my mother’s death, or the last few months of her life. I’ve had little spurts, but I’ve shoved them aside. I have yet to honestly grieve, and I feel like I need to start. Now. 


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