Grief Counselors Eugene OR

This page provides useful content and local businesses that can help with your search for Grief Counselors. You will find helpful, informative articles about Grief Counselors, including "Life After Grief". You will also find local businesses that provide the products or services that you are looking for. Please scroll down to find the local resources in Eugene, OR that will answer all of your questions about Grief Counselors.

Mr. Jonathan Stemer
(541) 517-9733
Vista Counseling & Consultation, Inc.1531 Pearl St
Eugene, OR
Specialties
Anxiety or Fears, Loss or Grief, Depression
Qualification
School: Florida State University
Year of Graduation: 1989
Years In Practice: 10 Years
Patient Info
Ethnicity: Any
Gender: All
Age: Adults
Payment Methods
Sliding Scale: No

Cynthia Lewis-Berry
(541) 741-5068
Eugene, OR
Practice Areas
Clinical Mental Health, Aging/Gerontological, School, Sexual Abuse Recovery, Depression/Grief/Chronically or Terminally Ill
Certifications
National Certified Counselor

Mary Aguilera
(541) 602-5703
Eugene, OR
Practice Areas
Childhood & Adolescence, Eating Disorders, Sexual Abuse Recovery, Depression/Grief/Chronically or Terminally Ill
Certifications
National Certified Counselor

Mr. Galyn Forster
(541) 246-6040
767 Willamette
Eugene, OR
Specialties
Trauma and PTSD, Loss or Grief, Anxiety or Fears, Dissociative Disorders
Qualification
School: University Of Oregon
Year of Graduation: 1988
Years In Practice: 20+ Years
Patient Info
Ethnicity: Any
Gender: Male
Age: Adolescents,Adults
Average Cost
$90 - $130
Payment Methods
Sliding Scale: Yes
Accepts Credit Cards: No
Accepted Insurance Plans: BlueCross and/or BlueShield

Lisa R Anderson
(541) 484-6785
Eugene, OR
Practice Areas
Career Development, Clinical Mental Health, Aging/Gerontological, Depression/Grief/Chronically or Terminally Ill
Certifications
National Certified Counselor
Language Proficiencies
Spanish

Marc Zola
(541) 543-3262
EUGENE, OR
Practice Areas
Career Development, Childhood & Adolescence, Clinical Mental Health, Couples & Family, Depression/Grief/Chronically or Terminally Ill
Certifications
National Certified Counselor

Elizabeth Akers
(541) 914-3973
Eugene, OR
Practice Areas
Addictions and Dependency, Aging/Gerontological, Depression/Grief/Chronically or Terminally Ill, Mental Health/Agency Counseling, Disaster Counseling
Certifications
National Certified Counselor

Meredith Compton
(541) 914-4801
Eugene, OR
Practice Areas
Childhood & Adolescence, School, Depression/Grief/Chronically or Terminally Ill
Certifications
National Certified Counselor

Christina Armstrong
(541) 236-3000 x12
1193 Pearl Street
Eugene, OR
Specialties
Depression, Anxiety or Fears, Loss or Grief
Qualification
School: Portland State Univ.
Year of Graduation: 1993
Years In Practice: 15+ Years
Patient Info
Ethnicity: Any
Gender: All
Age: Children (6 to 10),Adolescents / Teenagers (14 to 19),Adults,Elders (65+)
Average Cost
$140 - $150
Payment Methods
Sliding Scale: No
Accepts Credit Cards: No
Accepted Insurance Plans: Aetna

Mrs. Fiona Standen
(541) 868-2004
Eugene Therapy401 East 10th Ave
Eugene, OR
Specialties
Impulse Control Disorders
Qualification
School: University of Stirling-Scotland
Year of Graduation: 1995
Years In Practice: 15+ Years
Patient Info
Ethnicity: Any
Gender: All
Age: Children (6 to 10),Adolescents / Teenagers (14 to 19),Adults,Elders (65+)
Average Cost
$100 - $200
Payment Methods
Sliding Scale: Yes
Accepts Credit Cards: Yes
Accepted Insurance Plans: Aetna

Life After Grief

9/11/2001. It devastated our country and took people from their loved ones in what
seemed like the blink of an eye. In its wake, tens of thousands were left to cope with
senseless and soul-shattering loss. On the fifth anniversary month of that terrible event,
a 9/11 widow—whose firefighter husband died a hero attempting to rescue people from
the burning World Trade Center—reveals how she struggled to maintain her mental
and physical health in the days, months and years following such a life-altering tragedy.

By Marian Fontana

September 2006

It started with jaw pain first—the clenching of the tender area where the jawbone meets the skull—as I watched the World Trade Center burning on television. It was the morning of my eighth wedding anniversary and I had just dropped my son, Aidan, off for his second full day of kindergarten. My husband Dave, a firefighter with a unit in Brooklyn, should have been home getting ready for our day inManhattan together. At the end of his night shift at about 9 am, we planned on going to Central Park for lunch at the boathouse and then taking a personal tour of the sculpture exhibit at the Whitney Museum. Now, instead of getting on the subway with Dave, I am standing in my Brooklyn living room with my friend Lorie and we are witnessing what feels like the end of the world.

As I watched the first tower fall, I knew, on a cellular level, Dave was gone. My heart felt as if it was actually breaking, fissures cracking across its surface and exploding like glass. My knees involuntarily buckled, and sound and sight became distorted. I can almost feel it even now, five years later, the powerful force of adrenaline surging through my body. What was happening inside me was cataclysmic, as though my body was collapsing like the towers, but all of my thoughts and energy were focused on Dave, and praying that somewhere in the midst of that horrible wreckage, he was okay.

When the second tower fell, Lorie panicked. Her kids went to the same nearby school as Aidan. “Do you think they’re safe?” she asked, worry wrinkling her brow. I feel guilty about it now, but Aidan was the last thing on my mind. I was too busy speeding through my 17 years with Dave and trying to grasp the thought that he would not be coming home. I sent Lorie to check on the kids and told her to return with a pack of cigarettes. I hadn’t smoked in 13 years. After she left, I opened a bottle of wine, ignoring the bitter taste at that hour of the morning. I paced as fast as my mind was churning and when Lorie returned, the cigarette forced me to take deep, long breaths. I tried hard to slow my pounding heart as I watched dust from the towers settle softly on the patch of grass in my small backyard.

By 5 pm, it felt like years had passed. I finished the pack of cigarettes and had switched to scotch to keep my hands from shaking. Friends arrived by the dozens offering me anti-depression medication and sleep aids. I was in a foggy stu...

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