Therapy, therapy, and more therapy
Tonight I randomly remembered taking a sociology of death class as a college elective. A good portion of our grade came from writing snippets reflecting on ancient and modern funerary rites, cultural taboos, bereavement, and just death in general.
I embraced my love of fiction and wrote from the POV of some of my original characters dealing with grief themselves.
My professor offered little in the way of feedback. She suggested instead that I seek therapy.
Surprising but amusing, considering that I'd already been to therapy before. Many times before, even!
And therapy was (and still is!) one of the main reasons I learned to embrace expressing myself through words to begin with.