One day I was a happy mother of three with a great husband, wonderful job, and looking toward the future. The next, I was a devastated zombie who was hardly able to talk in complete sentences. My mother had been murdered. As a counselor and writer, I began to journal to try to help myself. After several years, these were packed away, but never forgotten. As the years went by, I often found myself counseling others who were going through the same type of grief. I pulled out my journals to see if there was anything in my writing that might possibly help others. It was then I realized I could...

One day I was a happy mother of three with a great husband, wonderful job, and looking toward the future. The next, I was a devastated zombie who was hardly able to talk in complete sentences. My mother had been murdered. As a counselor and writer, I began to journal to try to help myself. After several years, these were packed away, but never forgotten. As the years went by, I often found myself counseling others who were going through the same type of grief. I pulled out my journals to see if there was anything in my writing that might possibly help others. It was then I realized I could...