Since I've entered analysis, I've revisited some old grief, and discovered some sublimated grief. So much to grieve over, and so little time. Death is such an obvious loss and, subsequently, an obvious source of grief (for most). Yet despite, or perhaps because of my analytical ruminations regarding the death of my father when I was fourteen, it continues to hold a powerful grip on my psyche and I can't let go of the pain and sense of disbelief that he's gone. As of late, it seems to have become even more intense. This permanent separation and its consequences never seem to lose their power to literally stop me in my tracks.
