When I am feeling really dark, I think of this scene. I hope someday I get to experience it for real. For now, I will have to settle for imaginary.
It first begins where I am huddled in a dark, wet corner sobbing and screaming. And a mother figure of some kind sees me and with shock and dismay, says, "Well now this is just ridiculous. You've suffered quite enough. Now we're going to take you out of here. How has this been allowed to continue this long? It's an outrage." And then she grabs me and we fly upward, lifting me out of the hell I'm in. I wake up in a small, sunny room with beige walls and white curtains. There's just a simple wooden framed bed and I wake up to a breeze and sunshine coming through the curtains. The mother brings me a bowl of broth and I drink it, and I start to feel renewed and alive for the first time. I'm still tired so she tells me to sleep. Then she leaves the room and I can hear her talking to other women, the murmur of their voices brings me comfort that I am finally safe at last. The madness is finally over. I'm free from my skin and mind prison. I can just be.
I don't know what happens after that. But i play that scene over and over in my mind when I am in a crisis. I don't know what it means or where it came from. Maybe a combination of some religious imagery from childhood, a book I read once called Nosso Lar about the afterlife, and my own inner desires for a mother who can weather my storm and bring me the comfort I never got as a baby. I had colic and my mother neglected me because she couldn't take the crying. And now I'm a 39 year old baby, still crying the same way. And she is still neglecting me.
It first begins where I am huddled in a dark, wet corner sobbing and screaming. And a mother figure of some kind sees me and with shock and dismay, says, "Well now this is just ridiculous. You've suffered quite enough. Now we're going to take you out of here. How has this been allowed to continue this long? It's an outrage." And then she grabs me and we fly upward, lifting me out of the hell I'm in. I wake up in a small, sunny room with beige walls and white curtains. There's just a simple wooden framed bed and I wake up to a breeze and sunshine coming through the curtains. The mother brings me a bowl of broth and I drink it, and I start to feel renewed and alive for the first time. I'm still tired so she tells me to sleep. Then she leaves the room and I can hear her talking to other women, the murmur of their voices brings me comfort that I am finally safe at last. The madness is finally over. I'm free from my skin and mind prison. I can just be.
I don't know what happens after that. But i play that scene over and over in my mind when I am in a crisis. I don't know what it means or where it came from. Maybe a combination of some religious imagery from childhood, a book I read once called Nosso Lar about the afterlife, and my own inner desires for a mother who can weather my storm and bring me the comfort I never got as a baby. I had colic and my mother neglected me because she couldn't take the crying. And now I'm a 39 year old baby, still crying the same way. And she is still neglecting me.
