pro tip: whatever you do, don’t get out of therapy all cheery-like, bike home on a fucking beautiful day, go home, drink two beers while hanging with your housemate and reading, and start googling your estranged family, no matter how many slices of “self care” pizza you have ingested, it is never enough to settle your stomach when you find that picture of your father, aged nearly a decade since you last saw him.

the thing to do, tho, after the disastrous wash of grief–is to go downstairs, discover your other housemate is attempting to solve the “mystery” in the years-unused mini fridge and that it is stinking up the entire floor. offer to help them move it so as to alleviate the smell. feel good about lifting bulky, heavy things, have body, will use it. tuck yourself into the strap of your bass. plunk around for a good hour or so, a really good one, until your fingertips are raw and numb at the same time, and you can count 16th beats even when you close your eyes. play slow. play fast. play hard so that the strings slap against the neck of the instrument. yes yes, this is where it’s at. drink water every time your throat gets parched from excitement and concentration. you will still wake up sad and slightly hungover, but it’s like being in a dark tunnel where you can see the pinhole of light at the end, and you have directions, and you have been there before, and you will go there again.


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