“Jesus wept.” John 11:35
If Mom were still around, she would have turned 91 today. This is my first time sending her birthday wishes since she died in 2013; my first blog post dedicated to her. Today also marks the first time I’ve cried about her death.
A couple of days after Mom died, a friend canceled flowers she intended to have delivered to the funeral home when she found out I wouldn’t be there and, instead, picked them up from the florist and brought them to my home, 14 miles from where she lived. It was my friend’s kindness, not Mom’s death, that brought me to tears.
Mom cried often, which seems odd since she discouraged others from crying. Maybe she couldn’t handle our pain on top of her own, but not being able to cry around her sowed more pain. When I cried as a child, she looked to Dad to send me to my room. He pointed to the staircase and I knew to go. “We don’t need crying around here,” he said.
When Dad wasn’t emotional gatekeeping for Mom, he’d come to my room and close the door. He’d sit on the floor with me, apologize for being stern, and talk about what bothered him, and he’d sob.
Around the time I turned 10, Mom didn’t have backup anymore. Our family bought a motel in a resort town. Dad moved there to run the business and to run away. My mom, brother, and I stayed put at my great aunt’s house, which was in the next town over. I cried many nights about Dad being gone and alone, but now I think it was good for him. He was free to cry.
Since Dad wasn’t around, Mom used guilt to stop me from crying.
She called me ungrateful and said, “You should be thankful your life isn’t as bad as mine was at your age.”
She told me I should be happy she hadn’t done anything stupid, insinuating suicide, because of my crying.
She threatened to send me to a boarding school. She said, “You might be happier away from here. Maybe you wouldn’t cry so much.”
I stayed in my room most of the time when I couldn’t find a school activity to attend or a friend’s house to hang out. When I cried, I went in my closet, closed the door so Mom wouldn’t hear me, and lay on the floor holding a pillow.
After she died, it was hard to cry over her. My husband John and I still tear up about my dad being gone, but we’ve never talked about missing Mom, not even once, which makes me want to cry right now.
I can’t help but think about what a counselor said 39 years ago, “Until you make peace with your mother, you’ll never be at peace with yourself.”
I wondered why he told me something he had to know I couldn’t do. He heard the stories. What was he thinking?
It seemed impossible to make peace with someone who cried only out of self-pity, never compassion. “Only” and “never” are unwavering words, but I only witnessed Mom cry when someone hurt her feelings, which meant she cried for herself, and then she punished the person. She didn’t know what else to do with herself and her emotions, I guess.
Even though we only lived blocks apart, we were estranged for more than a decade at the end of her life. She never called after that, never returned messages I sent, and only reached out once to one of my two children after our breakup. She never let on that it bothered her that we had no contact, so I tried for it not to bother me either, and I never cried about her death.
Until today …
John and I are mending a relationship that’s much like the one I had with Mom. Until the last two years, I cried in my closet. Until the last two weeks, I didn’t know his mom slapped him when he cried, which explains why he wanted me in the closet. He never told me about his mom, nor did he associate her actions to his strong negative reactions toward me when I cried.
It wasn’t until hiding my emotions almost killed me that I had to deal with them … out in the open … whether he wanted me to or not. Whether I wanted to or not.
I’ve literally come out of the closet. I watch movies, listen to music, and read stories that are stirring. I pray God breaks my heart for what breaks His, and I mean it. I hear friends’ heartaches and I really listen instead of shying away or trying to fix them. I share mine too. I’m finally not afraid of heartbreak and being sad and crying because they’re not what fueled my depression. Not feeling my feelings did that.
John gives feedback on every blog post before I publish it. He mentioned that I wrote in my first paragraph I was dedicating this blog post to Mom and that a dedication typically tells what is good and honoring. I choked on my water when he said, “Don’t dedicate anything like this to me, okay?”
We both laughed before, you guessed it, I cried. I said, “It’s so hard to write about her.”
Right then, he and I recognized this is my dedication to Mom. I’m finally willing to talk about her – to stop pretending I’m indifferent, to stop acting like she didn’t matter to me, and to stop saying I don’t miss her. It’s time to dredge up the pain that’s keeping me and my kids and my grandkids from having a connection with Mom. Death isn’t what ends a relationship. Burying our emotions ends it.
Both of my kids shush our grandbabies when they cry – they pacify them, send them away, or get strict with them. I respect and appreciate so much their care and discipline towards their children, but lately I’ve had an urge to advise them about their children, and to tell them the same about their own emotions,
“Let her cry.
Let him melt down.
Leave him in the middle of the room to bawl
To his heart’s content.
Don’t send her away this time.
No apologies for their tears or yours.
He gets to cry right here.
So do you.
Scoop her up in your arms.
Hug him tight.
It’s okay to cry.”
I don’t mean cry in the middle of a restaurant or Target or a movie theater. Take that child outside. At home, though, we all need a space and time like the Bible says in Ecclesiastes 3, “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: … A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; …”
Where do you go to cry?
I hope we all have a safe place right in the center of our lives and living rooms, and at least one person who will let us cry as long as necessary.
In This Together,
Kim
My Dearest Early Morn Friend, Yes….if I could cry, I would! Truth is, I cried so March 2007, my tears must have depleted….the day my one & only son left for Parris Island! Then I didn’t have another until last October….and I sat in my livingroom floor & cried for three days…literally!
You see, My Friend,October is not only My Mother’s birthday month, but it is also the month of her death! The crying jag for her loss occurred THREE (3) years later….Go figure what ignited that cry…maybe just because I had not allowed myself that outlet! So in telling you all this, it is officially October & to say “I am shaking in my boots” doesn’t cover the anxiety I feel: however, reading this post at this time….thank you!
We’re just a couple of crazy night owls. I love hanging out with you about this time of “day.” 🙂
Oh, wow, you went 10 years between your crying spells. That’s weird timing because a chapter in my book is titled “Dead for a Decade.” It’s about shutting down my emotions for 10 years and it’s around the same time that you went through it. I do believe God is up to something with us, but, you know, we can never figure Him out. We have to wait and see.
I’m so grateful you shared your story and the timeline too. Another timing thing, your mom died in 2014, right? Mine died in 2013. I believe we’re finding our way through this messy life and grief thing together. Too many similarities to ignore. #inthistogether
Now, about it being October … take a deep breath and message me if you need to. August is my emotional month, so I understand. Love and hugs and happy fall (including October)!
I love you!
Dearest Kim, I feel completely drained exhausted. My beautiful, loving, caring friend, first to encourage support and love your family and many friends suffered so much, were lonely, alone, sad and heart sick.
Kim I truly do believe in miracles and God has shown this through you to bring you to the place you are at now.
Kind, compassionate and loyal friend.
Above all a true believer knowing God will never leave or forsake you. He has brought sunshine into your life with John B and truly blessed you both with your delightful family. Love you all and wish I lived closer to hug you tightly and say so very sorry. We have seen the Rainbow a beautiful promise “all will be well”
I can’t tell you how often I’ve wished you lived closer, Isabel. I can always use a hug and some compassion.
You remind me of Betty, my wonderful friend and encourager who always spun a situation positive and made it look brighter, but only after she allowed me time to feel my emotions and get out what it was I needed to say. I knew how much she cared the same as with you. Ever since we met on here, you have loved my family and me more than I thought possible.
Thanks for being a part of my life and for letting God use you to heal all of us. John so appreciates how much you care about him too. You’re part of our miracle.
I love you!
Thank you for always being so open and honest with us. You make me want to feel normal. You make me think. You make me want to be better to others.
My kids tell me all the time mommy you never cry … cold heart. I don’t cry because I been felt I am the strong one … if I break down so will everyone else.
So working on that. I am tried of being the strong one.
Connie, no way your heart is cold. I’ve known you too long and been treated too kindly by you to give that lie a second thought. Sometimes our closest people misinterpret what they see. Stoicism often covers pain and fear and keeps us stuck in our roles like being the strong one.
I understand all too well. I was the strong one and scared to death to stop, but I didn’t have to. Depression did that for me. I never would have chosen it, but I’m grateful now that it happened.
Keep on working on it. Hopefully you’ll find a simpler way than I did to let go. I love being in this together. Love & hugs!
I love you!
Diane, I love you!
There aren’t words to express how grateful I am you were around when Mom was sick and dying. You kept me updated, offered gentle counsel about my decisions, and accepted whatever ones I made, no judgment.
Your kindness reminded me of Jesus.
I loved your post. I felt a lack of physical love from my mom as I grew up. She did all the good things moms do for their children in all other areas. She just didnt hug or kiss us very often or say the words “I love you.” I didnt find out til 5 years ago my brother and sister had the same experiences. I didnt cry much when she died 7 years ago, still haven’t. She wasnt a mean or cruel person, not ever. I believe her way with us stemmed from having her own mom die giving birth to her. I’ve always felt sad that she never knew her mom. That must have been heartbreaking. Thanks for sharing your life with others. It puts my troubles into a different focus.
Pam, thanks for sharing also. Even though details are different, so many times, our feelings are the same. That’s why I believe it’s important to tell our stories. Our feelings need a place to go and they connect us.
That had to be incredibly hard and sad for your mom not to know her mother. I have a friend whose mom died when she was born and she’s struggled with it throughout her life.
It makes it hard for you too because parents pass down their pain without meaning to. I’m sure I’ve done that also. I’ve apologized to my children more than once. I love the compassion it sounds like you have for your mom.
Wow! I am so glad I read this. Our little Deglan whines and cries when he doesn’t get his way. I have always discouraged it but maybe I should just hold him and let him cry. I remember my father telling me a few times to stop crying or he would give me something to cry about. I thought that was so mean. I love reading your journey and seeing your growth. You’re helping me grow too. Love and hugs.
PS I usually pace around the room when I cry, whatever that means🌞
Your cute, sweet Deglan … a whiner … no way! lol 🙂 Wyatt whines more than Claire, but she’s the one who melts down if she’s hungry, tired, or overwhelmed. We’re still figuring out John, our youngest grandbaby. It’s hard to believe they’re related sometimes because they handle their emotions so differently.
I wrote this story in the heat of the moment, when I was sure next time I’m around them (or anyone) crying, I’ll accept it. Even embrace it and embrace them. We’ll see. Some days, I revert back and I really don’t like whining and crying. lol 🙂
I had to get comfortable with being uncomfortable. Plus, I had to accept my own emotions. I might be launching another blog post here.
I’m so curious why you pace around. Maybe you get really anxious when you cry? Let me know if you figure out something.
I love you and our friendship! Thanks, Tammy.
My month of tears is Sept. I started to blog about it, but just couldn’t finish. The news of Florence and all the sadness for my SC friends/family and another death interrupted my thoughts…I just stopped writing. Kim, you always say things that touch my heart and make me want to write more. Thanks for continuing to write through it all. 💙
Laurie, I wish I actually wrote through it all. I’d have thousands of blog posts and a bookshelf of my own books. And I probably would have healed much faster. I start and stop just like you, especially when I’m overwhelmed.
I hope you’ll return to your writing when you’re up for it. I remember reading along and relating.
August is my month. I’m sorry about your sad September and the death you mentioned. That’s tough, which is even more reason I’m grateful we’re in this together.
Much love.
Wow!!
I was taught early on to be regent in the time of loss or suffering. To cry was a personal family thing. Do not share crying time with others.
That lasted until I was about 13. I broke every rule. I learned it was okay to cry and told family members it was okay. Crying meant you LOVED someone or something. Crying was a way to say it IS IMPORTANT!!
My family saw me do that and then they became accustomed to crying.
Kim Hensen, you cray all you want too. You do not have to seek perfection. Jesus already knows you are!!
Cry on sister!!
I love you!!!
Lyn, I absolutely love what you wrote here, “Crying was a way to say it is important.” Yes, that’s it. When I lost the privilege of crying, I felt like I lost my voice. It is one way we speak to our priorities.
I’m happy your family came around. What a gift to you and to them.
Permission is so freeing. I’m free crying. 🙂
I love you, my friend!
Kim, Proud of you…emotional poetry.
Awe, Kenneth … this means so much! I love you. (p.s. great gravatar)
I admire your willingness for looking inward to heal and being in it for the long haul. Isn’t it wonderful that despite it all, you are overcoming?! Stopping the cycle you lived as a young girl, that’s a win.
I appreciate it, Christy. It’s been a long haul, for sure, and you’re right, breaking patterns has been worth every step of it. I love you, my friend! Now, where’s the sugar? 🙂
From FB (Kim Henson) ~
17 Comments 6 Shares
58 Wanda Gibbons, Betty Butler and 56 others
Connie Rogers Thank you
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Kim Henson Thank you, Connie Rogers! <3
Jan Igoe Beautiful piece that many can understand. It sounds like your mom needed help that never came. Maybe her generation didn't know how to ask for it. I've turned my "don't cry or I'll give you something to cry about" years into humor columns. Your way is more honest and naked.
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Kim Henson I love hearing from other writers, Jan Igoe. Thank you so much! <3 Mom was abused and, yes, could have used a lot of help. She said once that she wished there were counselors back then. There were, but I don't think she could stand to go and talk about all that was wrong. I love your stories and wanna go the humor route. I think one day my writing will be funnier, but this stuff is on top of it. First things first. 🤨
Jan Igoe Thank you, Kim. You have a naturally generous spirit that camouflages pain well. You surprised a lot of people who follow you. See if any of these techniques ring a bell. http://scliving.coop/…/wait-till-the-pacifist-gets-home/
SCLIVING.COOP
Wait till the pacifist gets home
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Kim Henson Jan Igoe, I went back and forth between emojis – 😀 or <3. The heart of your article won out even though I love your humor just as much. You balance them well. Our daughter says she should have named Wyatt "Onetwothree" or at least let it be his middle name. 😂
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Carol Chestnut Kim, thank you for sharing something so deep and personal. I often visited your mom when she was at The Place. She never talked about you, but if I ever asked about or mentioned you, she would get a very sad and distant look and could no longer visit. My heart hurts for you after reading this, but I don't think your mom knew how to verbalized her feelings for you. Sending prayers and love your way. 🙏🏻❤️
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Kim Henson Awe, Carol Chestnut, thanks so much for visiting her and for sharing what you wrote in your comment. <3 We had a very painful relationship and I'm not even sure why. I spent way too much time trying to figure it out before I let go. I'm grateful I can write about both her and Dad without causing them pain. I was so confused when God called me to write (years ago) because I knew sharing personal stories would be part of it. By the time I was willing to put myself out here, they were both gone. It feels good to miss her.
Barbara Suggs Love and Prayers ....💕
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Kim Henson Thank you so much, Barbara Suggs! <3
Lucille Zimmerman Sharing on both of my Facebook pages. This is excellent and really helpful.
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Kim Henson This means a lot from you, Lucille Zimmerman. Thank you. <3 I so appreciate having my work shared by a counselor because counseling was my original goal since high school. I'm still surprised when I hear myself say "writer." God knows I probably didn't need to sit face-to-face with clients.
Debbie Johnson Oh my friend, I did not know what pain you really had growing up, yet I have known you since we were 11 years old. You've turned the corner with this blog. I am thrilled that at last you were able to release the tears and mourn your mother's death. He…See More
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Kim Henson Debbie Johnson, you and our group of friends have been instrumental in my healing. Y'all have been here the whole time, especially the last 13 years. <3 For a long time, I didn't think I deserved female friends. After all, if Mom didn't like me, who would? Y'all helped me believe differently and believe in myself. Mom had to be in a lot of pain, but she confused me because she didn't show it ... at least not in a way I could relate to. I guess I finally got tired of not caring about her, which was never true anyway. I've cried a bucketful since Saturday and it's good and healing. I think it'll take a while to "make peace," but this is a gigantic step in that direction. I posted this story before I thought about what people might think, so that's how it made it's way onto my blog. My prayer, like always, is that it helps someone else who's in a lot of pain. I appreciate our friendship so much. I love you! 😘
Debbie Johnson Kim Henson I love you! I know these words will be helpful to many because it is honest and so raw. You've put into words what many could not even begin to verbalize. Thank you for being willing not to worry about what others might think. These words needed to find their place on a written page. You've done so much for so many. God is using you to help others begin on their journey to heal a relationship. May you be blessed by all you do for others through your written words. Your friend always!
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Kim Henson Awe, thanks for the encouragement, Debbie Johnson. If just one person doesn't feel so alone, I'm happy I've written it. <3
Delilah Lewis Kim when you lose your Mom it like losing no one else, but when I lost my brother Winfred it was not good either. He was my buddy and I will never forget how much I loved him.
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Kim Henson Delilah Lewis, that had to be hard losing your mom and your brother. Loss is so difficult. Thanks for your comment. I love you! <3
Debbie Johnson Aunt Delilah Lewis, thank you for referring to my daddy as your buddy. He loved you the way that you loved him. You've always been my "special aunt" for because of your closeness to one another our families did so much together.I'll never forget staying with you and while Dana, Hugh and June loved cereal, you would give me a banana sandwich and pepsy. Your brother and my dad are missed by many of us. I love you.
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Maria Franken Thanks honey.... I related a bunch. My Babushka and Mom died within 3 months of each other (over 7 years ago) and just when I think I'm finally over it, a smell, a song, or a situation brings it all crashing back on my senses. Love ya oodles!
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Kim Henson Oh, I know, Maria Franken! <3 It always catches me off guard when I see an older gentleman who walks like Dad or has his mannerisms. I still remember sitting on the Great Wall of China and watching our son peel an orange. Of all things to notice, but he peeled it just like my dad. Thanks for sharing. I love you lots, my sweet friend!
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Patricia Turner Johnson Thank you for sharing ! I too visited your mom occasionally when she was in assisted living! May your tears finally give you healing! ❤️
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Kim Henson I appreciate you visiting her, Patricia Turner Johnson. <3 I heard about a few fun times at assisted living from friends who kept me updated. I love hearing stories about her.
Betty Butler Kim, your intelligence, your beautiful sense of humor, your caring and concern for others belie the difficulties of your childhood. Getting the feelings out will, I pray, be a healing experience for you.
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Kim Henson What a lovely and unforeseen compliment, Betty Butler. I worry that I drag around and act heavy too often, and that my writing is that way too. Okay, so the latter would benefit from a joke or two. 😉 I really appreciate hearing how others see me. Thank you, sweet friend. <3
Tammy James Quinn Love this Kim.. I posted on your blog. Thank.you❤
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Kim Henson Thanks so much, Tammy James Quinn! <3 I'm headed over there now to read the comments.
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Michael John Sullivan
❤️
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Kim Henson Thanks so much, Michael John Sullivan! <3
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Judy Anderson Thanks Kim for your post. It brings to my mind the difficulty I had in relating to my Mom. 🙏
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Kim Henson Thanks for your comment, Judy Anderson. <3 Mom/daughter relationships can be so difficult. I'm grateful my daughter and I haven't repeated the pattern because too often, we do.
Helgi Vannell My Mom died 12 years ago. I was devastated. I cried for a long time. I was very close to her. When I hear her favorite song by Josh Groban "You Raise Me Up", I break down crying every time. ♡
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Kim Henson Oh, Helgi Vannell, what a sweet tribute to your mom. Thanks for sharing. <3 That song makes me cry anyway, so I can only imagine your tears since it was her favorite.
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DrJenine Marie Howry Kim Henson I read your blog about your mom yesterday but I could not comment yet. It's real touching but hard because of how things were with my mom. God put me into a deep sleep while my mom was dying. When I woke up I had a text she was gone. She had Alzheimer's as you know, so she never remembered there was ever an issue with us. At least I don't think she did. It might sound strange but I talk to her now. It at least helps me resolve some things. Took my awhile to cry about either of my parents passing. I find it interesting once a person dies we tend to start to focus on some of the good things about them more than the bad. Every argument goes out the window after awhile and some fond memories start to surface. Maybe its that way so we can heal. I call it selective memory. Not sure if that is a psychological term for it or not but it makes sense to me
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Kim Henson DrJenine Marie Howry, I talk to my mom too and explain things we couldn't talk about while she was alive. I cried and cried about Dad, so it was strange not to cry at all about Mom. I figured my reaction would be different, though, because the relationships were so different. I still haven't had many (or any) good memories because I blocked out everything for a while, but I think I will in time. <3
DrJenine Marie Howry When the memories came back it was hard but worth it. Things needed to be settled and I did the work to do that. It was quite cleansing. I did cry a LOT
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Lisa D Tower-Couture I love this, Kim. Thanks for sharing your heart.❤
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Kim Henson Thanks so much, Lisa D Tower-Couture! I appreciate it. <3
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Susanne Calhoun Molter I lost my son suddenly only 10 months after I lost my Mom. I was still grieving for my Mom when he died. The pain was almost more than I could take. At the time it felt like the grieving for him somewhat over shadowed my grief for her. I guess it was just too hard to think of both at once. It’s really hard to explain . I don’t understand it myself. Now the grief is different everyday. Some days the grief is overwhelming for her. Some days it’s for him. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. I just miss them both so much.
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Kim Henson Susanne Calhoun Molter, I don't think anyone can understand or explain grief. It just happens. I actually wanted to miss and cry about my mom, but I couldn't. I was numb, and I can't explain that either. I was grateful Saturday when I thought about the next day being her birthday and I teared up. I'm so sorry about your mom, but what breaks my heart is your son. There's a natural order to things that didn't happen for you. I think about you a lot. <3
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From Facebook (Lucille Zimmerman’s page) ~
3 Comments 2 Shares
6 Donna Feddick Fagerstrom, Jan Igoe and 4 others
Donna Feddick Fagerstrom I wrote a long response. I don’t know where it went?
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Lucille Zimmerman I’m sorry Donna I don’t know where it went.
Kim Henson I’m sorry I missed out on reading it, Donna Feddick Fagerstrom. <3
Ginger Behrens This is heart breaking and unimaginable to me. I’m glad she’s finding peace and release.
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Kim Henson Thank you, Ginger. <3
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Lucille Zimmerman Kim Henson is an amazing lady!
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Kim Henson Thank you, Lucille Zimmerman. <3 You've made my night by sharing the blog post, calling it important, and your kind comment above. I appreciate our friendship so much.
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Lucille Zimmerman One of the things that drives me most crazy is when people don’t validate the emotions of children. I’m guilty at times, but I’ve learned so much about mental health. I now understand how critical it is that emotions be allowed, not stuffed. I cringe when I see see parents screaming at kids: “Stop crying!”
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Kim Henson Lucille Zimmerman, I'm the same way about feeling crazy even though I've been guilty of it too. It takes practice and getting comfortable with being uncomfortable around emotions. I'm grateful I see the value in doing the work (of feeling) now, and for some of us, it really is work.
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