“I didn’t trust any part of me, so I discounted my instincts too. But when I thought about it, nine times out of ten, my original instinct had been right. I just hadn’t paid attention to it. Grief took many paths. Ingrid had flicked through a book that told her about the Kübler-Ross method of defining loss. This tracked various stages of suffering, including anger, and ending up, hopefully, with acceptance. Abra, the kind psychologist Ingrid had gone to, explained that there was no set time-fram...e for this. ‘Grief is a journey through a changing landscape and it takes everybody a different amount of time to travel,’ Abra explained. She was older than Ingrid, the perfect Woody Allen vision of a shrink, with serious glasses, a wise face with shrewd dark eyes, and a wardrobe of simple but unremarkable clothes that said she was at home with her internal vision of herself and didn’t need the fashion industry to define who she was. They’d started out with Ingrid sitting in a chair opposite her and then, one day, Abra had mentioned that Ingrid might like to try lying on the couch with Abra seated behind her.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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