Therapy – It’s What’s for Dinner

I know what you are thinking how could therapy, it’s what’s for dinner, be a thing?

In my wilderness it is a thing because dinner resides in the trauma area in my brain, and I need help.

There, I said it.

I need help.

When Larry first died, I posted on Facebook that I needed food.  I got gift cards.  I appreciated the fact that people did this for me, but I needed food.  I wasn’t cooking.

Larry had dismantled my kitchen the weekend before he had his stroke.  I had no real appetite, and I had no desire to cook.

I thought my love of cooking would come back.  It has not.  I am fine for breakfast and lunch; dinner ends up in the trash.

It doesn’t hit the trash every night, but there are many nights where it does, and I want to be able to sit down to dinner and eat as I used to eat because I like my cooking.

I can’t.

It’s time to take it to my therapist.  When I left therapy on Monday, we were pretty sure I would only need one more A.R.T. session and that was the one dealing with holidays. 

Then I realized I need therapy for dinner.

Larry stroked right after dinner.  In fact, dinner was still on the table.

Larry was also my prep chef.  Almost every meal I created had him at my side slicing, chopping, mixing, and we would drink wine, laugh, and every meal was a date night.

I will work through this in therapy and trust that it will work because it has worked on my other trauma issues.

I miss cooking. I miss cooking with Larry.

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