Mary's Therapy Room wasn't a room at all. It was our backyard. No therapist ever sat there with me. There was no couch, nothing official about it at all. Just the deck, the open sky, and however many hours I needed on any given day. It was where I went to ground myself in nature the only kind of therapy available to me during the two years I spent in hospice, when my heart was failing and no one had an answer for how to fix it. I spent countless hours out there. Praying. Barg

There’s a part of the recovery manual that’s missing. Hell, there is no recovery manual. After my heart event, my brain changed . And I’m not talking about ‘oops, I forgot where I put my keys.’ I’m talking about a system failure . I’m talking about the lights being on, but the wires being frayed. I’ll be in the middle of writing a blog… or sharing my lived experience… something I know in my bones… and then my mind goes blank. 📖 The word disappears. 📖 The thought disappears.