Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
-- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
Yes - after my best friend died of breast cancer in 1993 (at age
29) and about the same time, my boyfriend broke up with me in a rather
cruel way. I was sort of walking around shell-shocked and another good
friend suggested I talk to her father's good friend, who was also a
therapist. Because of the personal connection, I got to see him at his
home. He was in his mid-70s and still practicing part-time. We would
walk his garden and he would make me a cup of tea - it was a gentle
therapy that worked for me and I became a much stronger person for it.
Many times. I have major depressive episodes, and because of my
heart, I can't take most anti-depressives. The first time I was in
therapy was after being treated for breast cancer. The woman was young.
She was not very nurturing and didn't understand the impact of a stage
3cancer diagnosis. She wasn't much help. The last time I was in therapy,
it was with a gentleman who was my age. He picked up on the problem and
was very helpful.
I did when I tore my rotator cuff. Not fun but I eventually
learned enough to do it my self. Also completed Cardiac rehab which was
great in making me realize I wasn't as fragile as I thought and could
exercise quite a bit.