HABITUATION
It's been 16 months today -- a long time, and then again, a short time.
Stuff still punches me in the stomach. Stupid stuff. The other day, I found a small, Teflon frying pan that I hadn't seen in all this time, and I started wailing. My counselor calls this phenomenon "habituation." Today, the frying pan is a memory trigger. Tomorrow, the frying pan will be just a frying pan.
Whenever Kathy sent me to the Post Office for a book of stamps, she would always say, "Get something pretty." In other words, get birds or flowers or hearts rather than flags or faces or fish.
The other day, I was at the Post Office buying a book of stamps. I had already been rung up when I saw that the stamps were of flags.
"Is it too late to exchange these for something pretty?" I asked.
"Not at all," said the female Post Office worker.
I was given a choice of birds or flowers. I chose the birds.
"I don't want you to get in trouble," she added with a smile.
"Thanks," I said, and then I bawled on the way to my car.
Stuff still punches me in the stomach. Stupid stuff. The other day, I found a small, Teflon frying pan that I hadn't seen in all this time, and I started wailing. My counselor calls this phenomenon "habituation." Today, the frying pan is a memory trigger. Tomorrow, the frying pan will be just a frying pan.
Whenever Kathy sent me to the Post Office for a book of stamps, she would always say, "Get something pretty." In other words, get birds or flowers or hearts rather than flags or faces or fish.
The other day, I was at the Post Office buying a book of stamps. I had already been rung up when I saw that the stamps were of flags.
"Is it too late to exchange these for something pretty?" I asked.
"Not at all," said the female Post Office worker.
I was given a choice of birds or flowers. I chose the birds.
"I don't want you to get in trouble," she added with a smile.
"Thanks," I said, and then I bawled on the way to my car.
posted by Mark Voger at 3:36 PM
2 Comments:
that's too sad. I thought about the date, too, on 1/18.
60 more days until Spring. And then of course, comes summer. Sometimes it feels like this winter will NEVER end, esp. after the holidays.
60 days. Count them down.
Thanks, Margaret -- I'll take any prayers you can spare!
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