Author Archives: April Lee

november snippets

snippets of my italian life, the november edition . . .
 
 

as my hand slid across its very old surface, the stone fireplace in the tower transmitted its strength and serenity to me.
 
 

one of loris jacopo bonini’s poems.

that fourth thursday

we’re not celebrating thanksgiving in italy today
so when i’m missing the way things were
it’s easier to be here

and at the same time more difficult

recalling time-honored family traditions
with my parents and grandparents
as well as new rituals my own family-of-four created

interesting, the twists and turns of life

wishing everyone in the states
a day of coziness and good cheer
(with a special shout-out to my favorite two)
 
 
 
 

S.T.O.P. (the short form)

what do you do when someone makes an offhand remark to you that seems rude, maybe slightly negative?

do you overthink it, even when you know that wasn’t its intended purpose? do you replay the comment over and over in your mind, getting caught up in that cycle?

wordlessness

in this passage from her book ?????????: ? ????????? ???? ????, martha cooley describes her daily life with her husband, antonio, while living in italy for 14 months. it was a bit uncanny reading it, because it’s an almost-perfect description of me and eric most days.

self-care = survival

i had a conversation with a friend on tuesday about the grief journey, especially about how getting out and being with other people really helps. it definitely helped me that day, with her.

however, i do believe that the hibernation i’ve felt drawn to over the past couple of months, the chance to be truly alone with my thoughts and my feelings, has also served a purpose.

a lot’s happened since then

three years ago, on 28 october 2016,
I MOVED TO ITALY!

and i guess you could say
a lot’s happened since then

• my husband and i self-renovated a large villa that had been closed up for years (mold and peeling plaster just two of the issues), living in chaos and dust and unpacked boxes for close to 8 months
• we stood in numerous immigration lines, attended italian cultural classes, endured house inspections (electrical, plumbing, medical), and more .

everything dances

“?????????? ?? ??? ???????? ??? ??????.
?????????? ??????.”

.???? ???????.

i’ve noticed that every time i write a blog post related to my grief journey, one or two people opt out of my mailing list. that’s okay. i can’t say i blame them.

your secret pain

do you have a secret pain?

almost all of us have our own private hell.
something that keeps us up at night.
something that prevents us from dreaming.

something that’s usually kept hidden,
along with the fear that accompanies it.

the suffering happens in silence.

2020 vision

i’m currently creating a collage (in an art therapy course i’m enrolled in) about my identity as a helping professional. as i proceed through the steps of this assignment . . . thinking about my particular strengths as a coach/counselor, the challenges i face in my practice, my approach and my style, the values i incorporate and the goals i work towards, the 25+ years of experience that have shaped my career .

keep getting up

15 days before my dad died
i sat in the sun

we weaken
we falter
we get crushed

we keep trying
we keep hoping
we keep getting up
 
 

 
 
“sun will also retry to shine tomorrow, then why not you.”
~rajesh walecha