Time to write again here in blog-world, 'cause in my own world I'm writing and need to air out my brain with the things that niggle and get in the way.

There's an ad for grief on the radio - a woman's voice, soft, concerned, dripping with come take my hand, I'll help you. Why? Drugs are the point of the ad. If you're approaching the holidays with grief for a loved one who has died, if your grief gets in the way of your living, if your loved one died six months ago, then call, get drugs and talk therapy. Six months? What is that in a life? What if the loved one who died was a child? A wife? A husband? A mother? And, whoa, after six months you're still grieving.

Here's another scenario: What if you're newly married, or dating, or newly engaged, or have a splendid job, or have moved to your dream spot and you're incredibly happy, and that happiness is 'getting in the way of your living'? Maybe you forget to eat regularly, or exercise, maybe you're not sleeping well, 'cause you're happy. Do you need drugs and talk therapy?

Isn't grief as much a part of the human experience as happiness? Who says six months is too long to grieve? What does 'getting in the way of living' mean? What about indifference? Or is that called 'depression'?

I don't think six months of grieving is extraordinary, or unnatural. Our particular culture doesn't respect grief. Like so many things that are innately human, our fix-it culture considers it an illness, to be treated with drugs and therapy.

Okay, enough . . . for now . . .