Still there, again.

During my session with my therapist last night, it was pointed out to me that I had mentioned “being in the woods” at least three times, and that perhaps I should go to the woods sometime.  When he said that I almost started crying immediately.  I remembered that when I was a kid, just a random aged kid, I would have episodes of being depressed, numb, depressed and overwhelmed and alone much like I have recently.  My solution was to go way out in the woods to one of two spots with a moss covered tree or hill under a tree, and sit and cry for a couple hours until I couldn’t do either anymore.  Then I gave up the drama and went home, acting like nothing happened.  I’m assuming this was helpful, though here I am again, feeling the same way and apparently needing the same thing.  I can’t figure out what it is about walking into the safe thickness of a covered woods, heavy with leaves, earthy and damp, draped with bright green moss that cures me, at least momentarily.

mossy-forest-north-wales-2009-05-19-holiday-001-jimpix-co-uk

 

I think I’ll go today when I get home.  I’ll find a large, cool rock resting on the edge of a creek and sit.  Quietly.  Alone. I’ll probably cry, though I’m not entirely sure why.  With a lot of luck I’ll find some mushrooms for dinner.

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