Chapter Ten

I hate this alarm clock. At least it does have a snooze button which can take abuse. Ken asks if I hurt my hand. I think I mumble yes. He goes to start the coffee. Today he is wearing his sensible shorts. Poop. I start to make his sandwich and realize we have no food. I never went to HEB. This makes me cry. Crying makes me mad. And then I start giggling at myself. I am a mess I say. You are getting better everyday and you are precious to me. Ken gets a hug for that. He has put an extra scoop of sugar in my cup I think. Yummy.

There are two sort of ok pieces of bread. I find the peanut butter. So, peanut butter and jelly it is. We find some leftover something that looks ok in the fridge. He will be brave. There is a plum and one clif bar. I tell him he can go out for lunch, but I know he won’t.

I start my own list:

HEB!!
Leslie
Expand your fortress

The laundry thing is not working out so well for me. I keep forgetting. One load had to be rewashed three times because I keep leaving the clothes in the washer too long and Ken has such a sensitive nose to musty. I keep forgetting a lot of things. I make a bowl of cereal then go into the next room and don’t think about it again. I’ll walk through the kitchen later and there is a bowl of soggy bran flakes. Yesterday I found four different glasses of water that I had poured and left sitting around in various places. I have to think about how to do things that I shouldn’t have to think about. Unloading the dishwasher is a nightmare. I can’t remember where anything goes. I’ve figured out that if I just open all the cabinets it’s easier. I can see other similar things and hope for the best. Of course Lillian thinks that is wonderful and tries to unload cabinets as fast as I can put things in them. Such a fun new game Mimi! I decided it’s best I don’t cook unless someone is here. I have left two things on the stove that turned to cinders. And yes, I am driving. All those old ladies i’ve been dodging for years here in the Burg have to watch out for me now.

When Ken leaves I still watch until he disappears around the S turn. I think of Lillian watching her mommy and I laugh.  I go hang another sarong on the line in the Monkey Hut. I did this one in a bath of yellow too. The disaster from the weekend is hidden away in a box in my room. I start painting on the top right corner. I do a few strokes of orange. Then a few of turquoise, and then pink. I like the effect of the brush strokes, but I don’t like this pattern. I start painting random squiggly strokes from the top of the silk to the bottom. On one section I layer yellow, orange, and magenta. Next to it is green, turquoise, and blue. Then I just start layering. The sun is coming through the back of the silk and it is beautiful. It takes my breathe away. I start looking at the color combinations trying to decide which are my favorites. I will make scarves out of those combinations. Simply stunning and I am brought to my knees by the idea that I could create something like this. I have found a piece of my soul. My heart is healing.



Leslie and I talk about my brain and what a mess it is. She explains the science to me again. I understand why I am this way. That doesn’t make it any less scary. I want my brain back. Leslie is talking and I’ve not been listening. I went home and read about Burning Man after our session last week. I read about the principles, the environment, the acceptance and freedom of the event. I can see how you would thrive there. And I can see how being a person who thrives at Burning Man would make your working environment so difficult. I agree. So our challenge is to get you too a place where you can deal with that environment for a while, or where you are ok with no longer participating. We talk about money. How much debt we have right now. Options for education. The possibilities of moving. Regaining my swagger. Find my lost confidence.

Leslie has decided that I am no longer in active crises and can move to weekly appointments. Crap, I would prefer to just put a cot outside the door for a week or two. But, ok, I will see you next week. You have my cell number. Call me anytime. Eat good food. Be kind to yourself. Do only those things that bring you joy. Do something creative.

HEB. I buy all of Ken’s favorite foods for lunch.

I get home and I have missed a call from my CIGNA caseworker. She is assigned to me during my short term disability. I try to call and leave a message. My face and my arms start to itch again. The hives are almost gone, but they start to flare up when I am scared.

But Ken has come home and I am not alone. I am in my fortress and I have created art. He tries on his new sarong and it is simply fabulous on his body. The silk gleams and Ken struts around the monkey hut. He looks like a greek god. He thanks me for making it for him.

Can we make another one? I want one that looks like the daytime sky. We make a light blue bath and soak a sarong for two minutes. I love taking silk out of a dye bath. It is fascinating to see where the fabric was thirsty and where it resisted naturally. The spiderwebs of wrinkles and swirls. It is like magic. We hang the silk out to dry. I start the next bath. A slightly darker blue. Once the sarong dries, we randomly grab the material into a ball and tie it together with thread. Bathe it in the dye for three minutes. This is the ultimate. Untie and open. It looks exactly like the daytime sky. Ken says it’s done. I think it needs one more bath. He hangs it up and I mix one more bath. Really really dark blue. I wad the silk, wrap it in thread and dunk it again. Three minutes. As we unroll the silk Ken says you were right. It is divine. Another piece of my soul and another piece of my heart.

I am safe. I am in my fortress. I am healing.