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 I find myself writing less these days.

And I think that's a good thing.

As I've said over and over again, writing is not just something I do for fun, it's also something I do as a coping mechanism. I write to process.

And, the less I write about the things that hurt me, the less it affects me. I don't feel the drive as much as I used to — maybe that's because it doesn't hurt as much as it used to.

Although, it still does. It hasn't evaporated yet. The shroud of fog is still here. But, I'm starting to see the light again. I think. 

I find that the sadness is less prominent, less of a permanent back-of-my-mind kind of feeling. As a result, when that sadness does hit, it hits harder. Maybe because it stayed contained for too long.

Some days it feels like watching a car passing by. Some days, you get hit by the car. 

My therapist likes to tell me that it's normal to feel all the things I feel. 

It's normal to feel grief. It's normal to want things we can't have. It's normal to love deeply — and to want to be loved deeply in return. It's normal to be sad. And it's normal to have days when you forget what you were even sad about in the first place. It's normal to be annoyed at slow progress and it's normal to be proud that you're moving in the first place.

Your feelings are welcome here, she tells me. 

But I'm going to write less (about the grief) because while I may not have control over other people's feelings, I have control over my own.