In therapy today we talked about the fall and how when I grabbed the curtains it snapped the rod in half. I’d forgotten the curtain rod up there was actually a dowel rod with carved end pieces and not a metal rod. When I saw it on the floor I left it there because I didn’t want to touch it. It’s thickness was the type my mother preferred to use on our hands and our back. I didn’t want to touch it but I knew if I left it there any longer someone would get hurt. The cat might play with it or the dog so I went ahead and picked it up. I mentioned to Dr. D that for quite a while my mother wasn’t the only one beating the palms of my hands. I did after all go to Catholic school as a child. The nuns were cruel in that they pulled students by their ears, by their pinched shoulder or smacked the palms of our hands with a ruler.









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