By Chandrama Anderson
E-mail Chandrama Anderson
About this blog: About this blog: I am a LMFT specializing in couples counseling and grief and have lived in Silicon Valley since 1969. I'm the president of Connect2 Marriage Counseling. I worked in high-tech at Apple, Stanford University, and in ... (More)
About this blog: About this blog: I am a LMFT specializing in couples counseling and grief and have lived in Silicon Valley since 1969. I'm the president of Connect2 Marriage Counseling. I worked in high-tech at Apple, Stanford University, and in Silicon Valley for 15 years before becoming a therapist. My background in high-tech is helpful in understanding local couples' dynamics and the pressures of living here. I am a wife, mom, sister, friend, author, and lifelong advocate for causes I believe in (such as marriage equality). My parents are both deceased. My son graduated culinary school and is heading toward a degree in Sociology. I enjoy reading, hiking, water fitness, movies, 49ers and Stanford football, Giants baseball, and riding a tandem bike with my husband. I love the beach and mountains; nature is my place of restoration. In my work with couples, and in this blog, I combine knowledge from many fields to bring you my best ideas, tips, tools and skills, plus book and movie reviews, and musings to help you be your genuine self, find your own voice, and have a happy and healthy relationship. Don't be surprised to hear about brain research and business skills, self-soothing techniques from all walks of life, suggestions and experiments, and anything that lights my passion for couples. (Author and Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist, Calif. Lic # MFC 45204.) (Hide)
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My daughter died in-utero 17 years ago in the midst of five miscarriages. I have done everything I can think of to keep my son safe (and not smother him in the process). I probably sat by his bed checking his breathing a little more than usual when he was little.
And yet, truly, I cannot keep him safe.
My neighbor and friend texted me after Umpqua to ask if that's where my son is. A colleague called as well. I am thankful to say no, he's elsewhere in Oregon.
But for many parents, families, and friends, the answer is yes. The grief, the shock, the pain has only just begun for so many. My heart goes out to them all.
As I was writing about this in my journal, I recognize the part of me that wants to draw in closer, recede to a perceived "safe" place.
Simultaneously, I recognize that there isn't a "safe" place, and that the best prescription for me is to embrace life fully, to love, to create, to serve, to make love, to find beauty everywhere.
To find one's gift and bring it into the world.
I hope the family members and friends of those who died take advantage of grief services and counseling. My thoughts are with them. I've worked with enough grieving parents to know that this is a very long and painful journey. One that is integrated eventually, but never gotten over.
May we all love those dear to us; say it out loud, show it every day. We never know when it will be the last chance we get.