If there was a time I was stuck in my grief, it was the fall of 2013. In my frustration over lack of progress in multiple areas of my life, I berated myself with unkind thoughts.
I toiled with several simultaneous issues – career, illness, relationships, professional envy. If my self-esteem had been a liquid, it could have been measured in a test tube.
The project to clean out my parents’ home slowed even further as a deafening voice in my head reminded me how long Dad and Mom had been dead. Seven years. Four years.
I wrote in my journal, “Is the house holding me back?”
Have you ever looked at your grief, gauged the progression and come up short?