A crazy thing happened yesterday. I was talking to my therapist and I realized that the 8 month mark came and passed. I didn’t notice the date and make a connection to it. I didn’t anticipate the 17th as I had so many times before.

As soon as I realized this, I felt guilty. How could I miss this? My therapist on the other hand, had a different idea. She thought it was amazing and showed how much I’ve grown. That all of the work I’ve been doing is paying off. The goal is to keep living, not be shackled to one day a month.

I guess I have this expectation, that I need to be sad and torture myself on the 17th of every month…but that doesn’t serve me. It just takes any joy around me away.

That expectation comes from things I hear in society and how some other people deal with their loss. However, we know that no one is that same and however they choose to deal with their grief, is what is right for them.

To most people it may seem like just a day, but to me it was a sign. A sign that made me realize, I am truly moving forward.