temporarily disconnected....

What to say? Therapy is magic. She holds me and says "the life threatening times are now over." Apparently watching your mom almost die three or four times while dating a selfish heroin addict while nursing a best friend through brain damage while struggling through lots of other assorted life issues is a lot to go through in a short period of time. She tells me to treat myself like I "just fell out of an airplane," and it feels good to hear an older, stable woman telling me that yes, I have been through hell, and yes, it gets better, and yes, all of my reactions are normal. So, hi, I'm Davka and I just fell out of an airplane. Davey goes with me everywhere. Sometimes I even hide behind him like a child in grocery stores and on the streets when people and non-natural places feel too intense for me, scary and confrontational. And that's ok and healthy. Sometimes I call him crying and he comes home and rocks me to sleep or washes my hair.

Self-care. Regression. Depression. Elation. Ebb and flow. Mostly writing my story in my journal in pictures because words feel too heady.

Today I saved a pigeon that was stuck in the laundromat, maybe for days. Her feathers were rough and she was very thin. She flew up suddenly from inside of a dryer that I opened and her wingspan was familiar, but not understood to be anything for a few seconds, the delay it took my brain to connect laundromat and bird. A homeless man inside smiled beautifully as I chased her out the door and she cooed in thanks. He went into the bathroom with his one suitcase and combed his silver beard in the mirror.

I saw the heroin addict walk out of a doorway and he looked through me. It hurt deeply. My therapist burnt his name and others in a huge iridescent abalone shell right in her office. She kept the flaming thing in her hand and looked me in the eyes and said repeat after me. I repeated, but that's for me. I will just say my love is childlike and he never loved anything. Isn't that sad?

I dream of him gaunt and sick- a hole into hell burning in his center. I dream of him as an out of body traveler making needle thin journeys into paradise while I watched, curious and jealous, not realizing the danger. I dream of him beautiful and healthy and hanging out on my porch, morning glories and moon flowers opening and closing in synch as day and night approach a synchronicity that we all have been waiting for and everyone I love is there, happy we stuck it through together because togetherness now means survival in the strangest way. I dream of a girl who I'll never have back buying earrings for me and telling me the names of all the stones because she knows of things like that and when I wake up she is mad, as she should be, but for all the wrong reasons. My therapist says see them as people later. Right now they are demonic because they are hurting you. Learn discretion. I tell her, strangely, that's what I named my dollie.

High by the shore, I feel my face melt to bones and I see the grid. It's sick in places. Tired spiders weaving still, slow paced, sick, but no missing patches. Everyone is connected. That's some intense shit for only smoking some "brown frown." I gotta take it easy.