The accidental patient.

The littles started group therapy at Hospice on Monday.  They were nervous, but ready to meet other kids like themselves.

Out of all the Moms in the world, they have one that truly gets the power of "same"...so I encouraged them, and routed for them...and they enthusiastically said they would give it a go.

They loved it.  I could hear L's group laughing and running around the room from two walls away.  Music to my ears!

I on the other hand, was in the kitchen having my heart ripped out.

Dramatic much?

When the therapist told me about the boys' meetings, she casually mentioned that the moms meet in the kitchen to talk while the kids are in their groups.  Since I didn't want to just drop the boys off and drive away, (they may have needed me!) I decided I would talk to the moms in the kitchen to pass the time.

But as I walked into the kitchen, I found a group of woman sitting around a table, with nametags, and a candle lit...and two moderators running a MEETING.

"Oh, I'm sorry!  I must have the wrong room..."

"Oh no!  Aren't you Meri?  We've been waiting for you."

Sure enough my eyes focused in on a nametag waiting for me.  This was no casual meet-up.  This was therapy.

Yeah...I had absolutely no intention in participating in a therapy session.  Ever.

Regardless, I couldn't just run away...although the thought certainly did flash through my mind.  I sat down like the responsible adult I am, and went along with it.

Two professionals.  A rundown of the rules and goals, who was here, who wasn't here and why.  A talking stick.  This was real, people. 

And the kicker was...they were expecting me to come back.  This was a 5 month thing and it was just taken as fact that I would be attending each and every week.

So there I was.  A deer caught in the headlights.  At a table of woman who had lost someone important in their lives.  All the "same" that I have been touting to the boys was sitting right in front of me.  It was comforting and horrifying all at the same time. 

One of the themes discussed was that my children's success in processing their grief depends completely on me.  Studies show if I handle it well, they will.

And this is supposed to make me feel better, how?  I have to hand it to them though.  It guilted me into agreeing to attend next week.  I want my babies to be happy and healthy.  Walking away would be totally arrogant...I can't pretend I have a handle on this grieving thing.

I know it is good for me to attend.  I know I will glean valuable insight if I listen to these woman.  I KNOW these things.

It's just so much easier to write it out on my blog than to hash it out in person...with people that have the same hurt in their eyes as I do.

Crap.

I'm in therapy.

 And I'm not happy about it.  At all.  They boys were told in their groups that I was in a group too, and they think that's the greatest thing ever.   

What have I gotten myself into?  If Ryan is responsible for any part of this, he's getting a stern talking to when I see him again.

There is no use fighting it.  It's on.  I can only hope that the power of same will heal me the same way it has done in the Diabetes Online Community environment.

Now I just need to look into having my tear ducts removed before the next meeting on Monday.

 That's totally feasible, right?