WHAT WEIGHT HAS THIS OUR BLACK BOX!

To arrive at the 35, 40 years it also means, for many of us, to begin doing a revision of everything that we lived.
Those memories that, we found, they were already properly stamped and sealed, in the dead file of memory, suddenly, they return to the thought as if they had happened yesterday.
And how they surprise us!
Some women return to feel prisoners of bitter feelings that they judged to be forgotten forever.That relive doesn't appear of nothing, from free...
In the age of the wolf, as we called that arrive closer or to pass by the 40 years, it is when our body begins to reduce the production of the estrogen.
It is the announcement that our end as reproductive is approaching.
Yes, the science today can, perfectly, prolong this period, but our unconscious and our body are not previously informed of those scientific resources.
It doesn't care if we already have our children, grown, almost servants, or, if we didn't have them.
We are closer to an end of a time that, after all, from the creation of the world, it was destined to the women exclusively: the one of being mother, the one of giving continuity to the life.This process revolutionizes our behavior. It takes us to the past, it points us the present, it cheers us and reminds us secrets. Secrets that, a lot of times, we kept hidden in the deepest of our bowels. Secrets that we insisted on turning off them, for years, even of ourselves.
And here we are, in that height of the life, being pulled the curtain by our memories, for our own secrecies.
They are passages of our lives that still fill us with fear, of shame, of fault, of remorses and regrets.
And they don't appear all of only one time.
They startle us in small doses, sometimes softer, other not so much.
Revise the past with the experience of the maturity could be clearer, more logical. But, in the reality it is not like this.
In many cases it´s a suffered exercise, marked by doubts and more doubts.
Does tell to anybody relieve us?
Will we be understood or does the rigidity of the moral rules still chain us?
Do I owe or not expose myself?
After all it took so much time that this happened! "

I, this doctor that dialogues for you, went by this questionamento.
Maybe i still passing by him.
But, some time i decided that continue keeping, to hide of my friends, of my family, mainly of my children, it would not help in anything. To me nor nobody.
I took the risk of being badly interpreted.
I know about that.
There is no problem at all.
What is worth, for me, it is to try once again. Try to pass to you that there are no traumas that cannot be softened, amenizados, best understood and the most important: that cannot serve as trampoline for somebody that doesn't know how to get rid, or simply to live together, with so many mistreatments that those memories impose us. Of a lemon, do a lemonade.Therefore I will continue telling to you a lot that I already lived, a lot that I had to face, not full of force and courage.
In many of those occasions I thought i would not resist, that i had been chosen, for I don't know who, to be the most unfortunate of the creatures.
Today, I guarantee you of open soul, that I see the life with another look.
I also know that I owe my patients a lot.
In them I could see how is valuable to change the concept, the prejudice, that we have on what we lived.
From now on, the character's of that story name is real.

I was with 5, 6 years of age when I had an immense wish of having an aunt as mother.
My aunt was affectionate, but she didn't live with us, just visited us.
To be daughter of her, was a dream that helped me to win the wish of a kiss that I didn't won, of a lap that I didn't have, of a pleasure that always lacked when i more needed.
My mother grew up me, educated me, instructed me but nothing was the reason to change her personal plans.
I was still very small when my mother divorced my father. The difficulties of reconciling the work out of house create me made me that I went to an internal school still very young.With five years I had to adapt me to the habits and costumes of the Instituto Santo Antônio that was in the neighborhood of Laranjeiras, south area of Rio de Janeiro, that was located to two blocks besides my house.
I could only leave that place of fifteen in fifteen days. I always returned by Sundays in the afternoon when all my friends only arrived on Monday in the morning.
I needed to return earlier, my mother always had programs for the afternoons and the nights of Sundays, she could not be with me.
I remember that i felt very sad, afflicted. I always cried when arriving to my dorm.
Lonely, in that silence, I was despised myself.
Why do I only need to return to here before the hour and my friends not? I always asked myself.
Never found the answer.Without having with whom to talk soon I stuck to a speaker a lot my acquaintance: my hands.
Lodgings on my lap, with the palms upward, we chatted.
I imagined questions and answers.
I fantasized the scenes of the day that i would not need to return anymore to the boarding school.
Our conversations were so intimate that we allied strongly: me and my hands.
I promised to them that one day i would change of life. I looked fixedly at the palms that seemed to say:
Don't discourage.
One day you will win.
They were many the times in that i didn't control myself. It hurts me a lot of this back for the school after the weekends, incomplete, in home.On those afternoons, as soon as my mother said good-bye and distanced, i held on the grating of the entrance gate and screamed, sobbing, that i didn't want to be there.
My reliefs lasted until the inspectors' arrival that pulled me with force doing with that i strayed from the grating of the entrance of the building.
They took me for the room.
I was almost two years in that routine, in that martyrdom, in that school.


THE SEDUCTION

I had 7 years old when my mother got married again.
The new occupant of our house was a man 12 years newer than her.
I don't remember to felt jealousies of him, especially because it would not change anything, i didn't have nothing to lose, i was not accustomed to special attentions.
A few time later, I passed to live something strange that marked as my ember body, my soul.
In one afternoon my mother had left to work as of habit and him, the new husband, was seating in the dining room, making a work with papers, square, ruler and Indian ink.
I was curious.
I approached to see what he was drawing.
I remember albeit I passed some minutes admiring and finding very beautiful the one that i saw. I also remember that a torment that would last many and many years began at this time.
He took advantage of our proximity. He took his arms back of the chair where he was seating and hugged me. I liked, of course yes. Finally, an affection.
He seated me in the lap and didn't need a long time for him to catch one of my hands and land, on him.
In the beginning a fright.
A new element and ignored until then.
An emotion finds strange.
That seduction game increased to each opportunity.
My mother seemed anything to notice.
I find also that she never distrusted anything. I don't know if for whole trust in him or if because the ignorance was more comfortable before the threat of having to face a hard reality.
Some months later other change in my life.
Another school, other internal school.
My monastery was in this time in the neighborhood of Botafogo, also in the south area of Rio de Janeiro.
In the Colégio São Marcelo I stayed there until the eight years of age. One more period very difficult of my childhood.
My memory keeps with clarity that the boarding school worked at the house where lived the scientist and researcher Oswaldo Cruz. A mansion opposite to the school was being demolished for the construction of the building of Sears, the first department store of Rio.
I liked to see how those walls were being destroyed, those corridors...
In this big house a spiral staircase existed tying the three floors.
It was made of painted bricks of brown very dark.
To arise until the top, to observe that drained tube and, there of the high, to look for the space that if that extended until the floor of the first floor stimulated me, me afraid, it took me to a sensation that I don't get to explain well until today, but, that was highly attractive. I felt challenged, i liked that face to face.
Of this time, I cannot also forget about a Nun, an order-rain of the Colégio São Marcelo. Of the high of her authority it reprehended using me the force.
I was hitten by her.
They were a lot of times.
When I claimed screaming that she was not entitled of beating me, she answered saying that she had orders of my house to act like this.
In the course of time I went losing the will of going home. Not that i had stopped liking of my song, from my Real position, but to be there cloistered in that space, mixed of school and prison, got rid of a torture that already gave the first inconformismo signs.
In this time it was still subtle my discomfort in being abused by my mother's husband.
I didn't get to have certainty of what i really felt during those sessions.
For me they acted moments of affection, he filled out an emptiness inside of me, but i already began to have rage of him.
The incapacity of reacting strengthened my will of staying at the boarding school in the weekends.
Whenever i went home, his persecution was implacable.
He didn't give up on finding opportunities to be alone with me, nor that it just went for some minutes.
I was with NINE years old when my mother decided me to remove of the internal school. I started to study, in the period of the afternoon, in the Liceu Franco Brasileiro.
Freedom on one side, anguish increased on the other hand.
I came arrested still easier in that man's claws.
More time home, larger the opportunities to be upset by him.
I don't know well if with 10 or 11 years my fear began to increase barbarously. Fear of him that was infinitely stronger than I.
Hung in the house wall he left a relho, that is especially a type of wood ruler with two leather ribbons, that it was done by him for me.
With this relho he threatened me.
In case it counted for somebody what happened among both of us, i would be hit with this frigthning instrument.
I didn't want more to be hit.
I didn't want to suffer still more.
In the course of time his relationship with me was more intense. Everyday the same hell.
My mother always distant of that reality.
I never noticed any sign of distrust of her.
Never found strange any attitude of the husband with me.
She didn't know about anything.
Once, a friend of the family, noticing that something strange if it passed among us, she didn't resist and asked him what was happening.
He turned pale but he was controlled, he didn't let any reaction, any fright for the discovery to appear. He was strong in the answer.
- "That girl is very curious and intelligent, only that. There is nothing besides".
In one morning, my mother was in the work and i in the period of school vacations.
On that day he was determined to execute what there is a long time drifted and prepared. To have me entirely.
Also of this moment I impeded myself of keeping the details.
In my time mother had already become pregnant of him and i had a stocking sister.
He hoped the daughter fell asleep during the day to arrive in my room. The abuses were still more frequent.
To seduce me he promised me an apartment in Ipanema. He said fascinated with the dream of setting up a house for me, to live with me. Of we be happy, both of us.
Very far away from my mother.
- And me?
- I believed in him. Moved don't know why for what kind of feeling! How? Due to all cruelty of the sexual abuse!
Today I know that my faith, my silence, my secret, were the forms that I used to protect me.
- The one what could happen with me if i counted for my mother? I thought.
- She would not believe. She would think i was fantasizing. That it was fruit of my jealousy.
These would be the answers that i would hear.
I didn't have doubts.
If not speaking protected me, it fattened me in the same proportion.
My weight went up 25 kilos.
I became a fat adolescent.
I ate compulsivily.
I passed to not give the smallest value for my body. Body that only felt sadness, to displease and rage, a lot of rage.
After all, it was it, my body, the responsible for that whole situation that terrified me for years. For me was reconfortante to feel ugly. It was a form of changing in a woman no attractive and
free from the men's seduction.
Only to the 16 years of age I decided to take an attitude.
No longer i supported that situation.
Situation that not lived for choice, logical, but for determination and deformation of him and my fragility.
I had to win a great fear.
Oh! The fear always him… Pursuing implacable of the insecure ones…
To have fear acted for me the only available form of strengthening so that, one day, i was not made responsible by a family tragedy.
My mother, always so distant, she could still be more far away from me in case i revealed to her what was happening with me and her husband.
I wondered:
- Among him and me who she chooses?
- Him, clear, it ended.
I always answered me like this. I always feared that those sentences became reality.
It would be my one more failure.
I would be, once again, in the obstacle hand of having a mother to love me, that said words of love, that caressed me, that gave me a kiss, that called me of beautiful, dear.
No.
That would not support any in way.
It was already enough to feel that lack.
To give reasons so that my affectionate lack was justified, verbalized, had a concrete right to continue not existing, never.
For all this I solved that I would find a chance of giving one is enough in that suffering since it didn't have my mother's participation.
Already more strengthened emotionally could notice, impiricamente, which today the medicine calls a "obsessive maniac being."
My mother's husband belonged to them.
I started to be smarter. When i listened the noise of his entrance for the house gate, i ran for my sister's room, locked the door and woke up offering her in advance the feeding bottle that had mixture.
He always insisted.
He knocked on the door with violence
I began to threaten him saying that i would scream if he continued to cuff the door. I promised a scandal if he broke into it.
Even full of doubts and fragilities I took my plans forward. But my fault still suffocated me. After all it was participant activates of everything that had happened to me. I felt deeply responsible for so many mistakes.
With the constancy of my threats he began to move away.
Every day he insisted less.
I went becoming stronger. More satisfied with myself. My stocking sister started to be a valuable shield.
My life began to be more comfortable, in spite of extremely vigilant.
I was always with eyes and ears very open . I could not lower the guard never if i really wanted to finish with all that hell.
And on that moment it was everything that I wanted.
To be very far away from my executioner.
It didn't need a long time for him to arrange a substitute for his world of sexual deviations. A girlfriend was discovered soon by my mother.
Discussions, fights, disagreements between the two and the separation.
I felt victorious.
I was free but i didn't get to reduce the size of my fault for everything that had past.
To look for my mother meant to relive years of my childhood and of my adolescence. But, nor on those moments I had courage of telling for her my drama.
The misfortune that this man had done in my life was still an immense barrier among us.
Once again I preferred the silence.
I swallowed my anguishes.
Better for me, better for my mother. They were those my conclusions.
Still inside of that to recall the life, already after the 30 years, they came into my memory other facts that involved sexual abuses.
I perfectly know that a maid of the house smoothed me when i was still very small.
I also remembered a cabelereiro, friend of the house, that under the trust that conquered among my relatives took advantage of me.
My memory recorded clear that my guilty conscience only increased.
I felt responsible for that everything.
- Why was with me that happened? I wondered.
- It could only be because i exposed me. I showed me temptress. I provoked those reactions.
I was already free from my mother's husband when I decided to do horsemanship with another friend of the family. Him, a colonel, was proprietor of a mare.
My instructor was 56 years old. I studied the second scientific
In any of the walks for a wonderful horsemanship field he ordered me that i stopped and that i got off from my horse. I obeyed.
And again the hell patrolled me.
He tried to hold on to.
I felt an immense rejection. I reacted. I said no. I returned to the stable, went home and never again had classes.
I abandoned the exercise that i liked so much.
I went strong, yes. But at the same time I felt responsible, once again, for the that happened me.
But what can i do?
Why does have to be with me?
What do i do to provoke such reactions?
To find those answers, on that moment was impossible.
For me was much easier and comfortable to believe that I was really abnormal. That in anything resembled each other to the other girls or adolescents of my time.
Once again, the silence.
Once again the failure I invaded.
I finished the second degree. I was a pré-vestibulanda(conferir). There i knew as nobody that i wanted to do medicine. Of that I never had doubts.
In the preparatory course, i was with 17 years old. There I met a boy two years older than me. In the beginning, only one more friend of the group of Pré Vestibular(conferir).
He, a pleasant company , physically attractive and that dated another friend.
In one day he listened to me say, to other friends, that his girlfriend was a very ugly.
Immediately he replied:
- If you lose weight even you can even be runs for my future girlfriend.
A boyfriend?
No.
I was not interested.
But I was animated with the incentive that his sentence changed. For the first time I thought seriously about losing weight.
I began to eat less and to lose weight with easiness. I cut the carbohydrates, ESPECIALLY THE COOKIES.
The differences blunted.
My body tuned. I compared me with the other girls. I was being very similar with them, acquiring the similar measures... THE incentive to reduce the weight increased.
I got to lose weight.
Thiner I started to call the friends' attention. Returns and stocking a song, a praise...
But the stigma of the one who had lived was heavier. I shuddered of thinking in courtship. I still felt very abnormal. I was sure that i would not get married, i would not never have children. It was impossible to imagine being formed a family. I was afraid of what this could act.
The following year i was already in the Fluminense Federal university, in Niteroi, state of Rio de Janeiro.
My body in anything reminded the fat adolescent that i had been.
I got happy to my new silhouette.
There was not goody that make me finish the diet. I was rigid with that my new behavior. He rewarded me.
The boy that had made me the proposal of being his girlfriend candidate in, case i lost weight, also passed in the same college entrance exam.
Some days after the beginning of the classes we met in the bus.
We talked and marked of going to the movie.
Right date.
The film had Burt Lancaster as the protagonist. He was a beautiful acrobat. In one of the scenes, prepared himself to exhibit in the trapeze and i in the eye of the screen.
Before even of my story companion's young man's mortal jump he sussurou very closer to my ear:
- So, do you want to be my girlfriend?
I didn't get anymore to repair in none of the scenes of the film that passed in my front. The revolution that happened in my heart was infinitely stronger than any image that appeared on that moment. I don't remember the itinerary of the film, nor of the title I know anymore...
I was a lot of frightened with the proposal, but it was impossible to deny the emotion that invaded me in that instant.
It was the possibility to have a company for other films, to walk for the streets with given hands... Everything that i saw happening through with my friends, close to me.
I could be like them.
To have a boyfriend.
I accepted the request.
We dated for six years.
In our first more intimate encounter he asked me if I was virgin. I lied. I didn't have courage of revealing anything about my disrupted life, my great and painful calvary, my secret kept to seven keys in the sealed safe of my memory.
After having affirmed that i was virgin he didn´t say anything. He was quiet.
Times later i became pregnant.
Another fear. New insecurity.
As soon as we received the result of the urine exam he decided that I aborted.
I accepted his decision.
He convinced me that we could not have a son on that moment. We were students, we didn't have income. Unassuming our parents' deception. Me unmarried woman and pregnant.
Again I felt a bug acoado.
Without defense.
At the mercy of strange decisions.
In a conversation with a teacher of the university he got a nurse's name that could make my abortion. I agreed immediately.
Another bad memory that I faked turned off for many years.
The courtship continued.
We graduated and nine months later we got married.
The priority was my career, nothing of children in the beginning of the marriage.
Only after three years later my first boy was born.
Since then it was a pregnancy behind the other. From July of 1971 to January of 1976 i had four children.
In my second childbirth a beautiful girl arrived. When completed two months of age of life put me, again to the proof.
My baby, slept at the room beside ours.
In one night she began to cry. My husband and i, doctors, thought that she was with colic.
I came her face down, I rocked, my girl continued to cry for a few minutes, but, later she remained silent.
She slept.
She stayed silent during the whole night.
The following morning, as soon as I woke up i went to see her.
I lost hope.
We lost hope, my husband and i.
Our daughter was dead.
She had been victim of the evil of the cradle. A breathing stop or a possible asphyxiation had her done to lose the life and there closer, to my side.
Beside the mother.
Beside the doctor.
Beside the father.
Beside the doctor.
The fault relapsed all on me. I blamed myself for my daughter's death.
One more period of pains, suffering and terror. I needed to take sedatives that in anything anesthetized my soul.
The pain of losing a son only who already went by that has and knows it dimension and intensity.
It is impossible to describe her.
Still a lot marked and suffered was pregnant for the third time. The second boy arrived.
Six months after this birth I became pregnant of the third boy.
The three healthy and beautiful gave me force to continue living and win what the life imposed me.
From the death of my daughter my relationship with my husband was not the same.
Every more day distances, more coldness, less feelings loving, more breaks of complicity.
I got to be amazed when in any of those discussions, to the screams, he shot the worst and crueller sentences that could enter in my ears:
"You lied for me.
When I met you, you were not virgin. Knows God what you already did in the life."
A torrent hate invaded me.
I had being married with a brute.
In a beautiful day I discovered that i had also been wrong and deceived by my husband.
In a combination, among him and the obstetrician that assisted me in the last childbirth, i had been submitted to a bondage.
They solved and pressed me. I felt against the wall.
My husband decided.
He signed with the doctor.
And I had the trumpets linked .
I felt mutilated myself and largely betraid.
Years later, in the psychoanalyst's couch, I reached the conclusion that the cut of the trumpets was the definitive cut of the marriage, what explained the enormous rejection that I developed for my husband.
- How could i continue to live with a man that was capable of traps like that?
I could never trust him again.
I could not continue to live with him.
After a series crisis, a lot of fight and squabbles endless decided to ask the separation.
He accepted.
I passed, then, to receive from him a pension that was enough to pay the three boys' school of only two. That value was deposited in my bank account, for that i still had to pay the income tax of this value, what still reduced more the received amount.
When i realized what was happening i suggested to him, with the beggars' delicacy, that he paid the monthly fees directly in the school; that avoided the bank deposits.
At this time, I listened one of his hardest sentences than a woman, emotionally destroyed, could hear in a moment like that:
- Go to the justice and seek for your rights.
It began a period of meetings there with lawyers, audiences, therapies, the children in emotional crises, i becoming a rag and tends to face a separation that was having a disastrous end and highly traídor.
I was crumbled myself, but, to look for my boys revived me. I needed to do the possible and the impossible for them. I would be mother as never and father as never, whenever my children needed. Nothing nor nobody would remove me the force that them, unconsciously and naively, passed me.
My children made me ressurgir of the ashes, to leave of great depressions, they pushed me for drying of the tears, for washing the face and react.
There were not few the times in that a simple look of one of them exploded in me as an enormous rays whose lights, very brilliants, impelled me, made me see more clearly, more to it distances, and, transformed me in a lioness, strong and brave as the wild animal is shown when protecting their nestlings.
I went by all the difficulties that a woman in separation phase can pass. New actions and processes appeared finally to each negative of him in paying the school, the dentist, the children's expenses.
In one afternoon a friend said to me:
- "Why don't you change the lawyers? Try to continue the action for divorce with a female lawyer. The men are connivent among them. The women are learning allying instead of compete among them."
In the beginning I found absurd my friend's conclusion. But, soon later I thought she was right. I needed to count with somebody that understood my case. I wanted that my children's study be assumed by the father. For me i was not asking for anything, same tends the warranties of the law.
Meanwhile his lawyers demanded my passport. They alleged that I traveled a lot.
I didn't support so much pressure.
After a lot of wear and tear a judge got that he accepted and accomplished the obligation of paying schools and dentists.
Today my children have 28, 25 and 24 years and a filled relationship of conflicts and distrusts with the father.
All this leaves me deeply sad.
I wanted them to exercise the relationship father and children in the fullness.
That they loved without barriers, without fears.
I still could not see them as i would like. Who knows one day they still gotten right and discover the rail of the peace.
With my old husband I never dialogued again. It is still impossible to accept the idea of a change of ideas without hates, without rages, without resentments.
If it was easy to create my children without the father's presence and for a lot of times, distant of the mother?
- Of course not.
How many of us went by this or we still having to face true mountains of problems to take the children's creation forward.
The sensation that I have is that a lot of times we were different in the emotions.
Them, the men, seem colder, more calculating. They demonstrate less the pain of the distances of the children, they get to work and take the life with more easiness and many of them are only considered parents while they sleep with the mother. THE WOMEN INVEST IN THE MARRIAGE, THE MEN IN THEIR CAREERS.
With us, women, it is not like this.
The uncoiling of the process of a separation is painful to the end. Even if when we propose the separation, when we asked the husband that abandons us, the pain that invades us is very big and deep.
It is always a failure.
It is always one more dream that didn't goes right.
It is always one more sensation of we have not been capable to give continuity to a life project and of love.
And more:
- How many men do you know that in the separation assumed the children's education in an integral way?
Living at the same house of them?.
Taking care of the school, of health, of affection, of the maid?
I guarantee that the men that you know, those that exercise the integral paternity, don't pass by the third party or fourth finger of the hand.
They are so rare that can be counted.
- And why does that happen?
A lot for our formation.
It is very hard a woman to give up of the custody of the children after a separation.
It is an unquestionable posture.
Woman, mother, takes care of the creates.
It is under the wings that the chicken protects their chicks.
It is the female that educates, that treats of the disease, that is going to the meeting in the school, that orders to brush the teeth before sleeping, that sings to sleep.
- And why is always like this?
- Because we don't know how to do different.
A few are the women that in a separation go to the fight and leave to the father the task of the education, of the day by day. Among them, many contribute with the children's expenses and the house, they visit the children in the weekends and managed to maintain a balanced relationship...
But that is another rare fact.
The number is almost nothing if compared to the women that take the whole responsibility of creating after a separation.
We will still need a long time and a lot of experience for having the coldness of ending that in many cases, the man is more prepared and more available to arch with the continuity of taking our children to turn men and women done.
Still rest us a lack of time and great changes in our behaviors so that we can consider normal leaving the children with the father after a divorce.
After all we are the parideiras and like this already said the dictation:
"Who gave birth to Mateus wrap" him
And on behalf of a tradition, of a culture, of an intense love, we started to accumulate tasks and commitments that maybe are too big. After all we don't have the that wide back, agree?
But we are women and we cannot put aside what considered rights and our duties.
Even if in that evaluation between a big portion of selfishness and demonstration of force don't have doubt when affirming that:
- Son, stays with me and final point. I will never leave my ex-husband to be with him.
We are like this. And every day more women take the children's creation ahead without a larger participation of the parents. Those that react exist different.
I have a friend that gets to drag a lame marriage, 35 years ago, because when the husband says that he wants to separate she threatens:
- "if we divorce I will leave. You assume the children and the house."
He, immediately turn back and maintain the hell of that coexistence.

The numbers show us that, today in Brazil, 36 percent of the families is led by women.
It is not easy task.
We all know about that.
But, the size of the pride is infinite.
To recognize how we are all important is the sensation that none mother intends to leave of having nor that for that to need to pay a high price.
Many of those consequences appear after the 40, 45 years.
It is when we entered in the phase of the "swinging of the life."
It is when we got happy or we became sad before the conquests or of the doubts that were never resolved
It is when we wondered on the success or not of taken decisions there are 20, 25 years.
It is when we recalled loves and deceptions… dreams and torments.
To relive them is part of the life of all of us.
Almost no woman is free from that to think and to rethink…
To evaluate the past, they impose us feathers, but they can absolve us.
Nothing better, in that period, that a good therapy and the faith. A professional's attendance is of fundamental importance on that moment.
This time cannot become punishment. A lot of times he takes to serious depressions, to you mess up of behavior, to constant bad mood and relationship difficulties with the children, with the companion, with the work friends.
In many public hospitals are already possible to find a department of emotional support.
Be not afraid of seeking for one.
You are not going mad, on the contrary, it is lucidity sign.
You are being tried to reequilibrar of an evil that it attacks all of us.
You are not the only one.
Don't leave that it becomes disease.
Count yes their secrets to who can help.
With certainty you will pass to face them in a much softer way.
Nobody will think you lost common sense because it sought a psychologist, a psychoanalyst or until a psychiatrist.
In little time you will start to notice that therapy exists to help us traumas that arrest us to expire and they mistreat us.
To turn them less important, more solved, it is within our reach.
Why don't we give then more that present?
You deserve, and a lot, to sleep in peace with their emotions.