Today was my first time to have therapy in the new location. I like it. Downtown has a certain charm, but it's always really busy. I also hate trying to back out from the parking spaces. It was just a matter of time before something bad happened. My therapist has a room with a private entrance right beside the handicap space. Because I can enter that way, I really don't have to interact with anyone but her. It's very nice.
The room doesn't have a window, but with the door open that didn't bother me. She said she didn't like the noise of the traffic, but it was far enough away that I found it somewhat soothing. I tolerated the room from the building downtown, but I never really liked it. It felt too industrial and the light had a constant, rather louder than comfortable hum. I find the new room to suit me better. When one is having a therapy session, a good room can make all the difference. I always felt hurried in the last place, but I found this one quite relaxing.
I had a lot of grief dreams last night. The more people who die in my life, the more aimless and unanchored I feel. Death always strikes me as a kind of uncontrollable drifting. Given that I have a rather adversarial relationship with the element of water, this doesn't surprise me. Less foundation, more unsettling depths. I need to dig in my anchors.
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