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She woke up that morning in her stepson's bed. Her soon to be ex-stepson and her soon to be new apartment bed. At this point she didn't know anything. She had just come through hell and was completely alone except for a chorus of virtual voices (exile can have its consequences). Her big thing to do today from all the cautionary tv shows was to go downtown and pay her bail bond.
At this exact point, she was like an imaginary cruise liner massive and sailing on a powerful trajectory towards staying in cali and becoming a mental health helper - you know giving it all back and having it all have happened for a reason and wisdom wisdom wisdom.
There was only one smallish problemo. I mean one could almost call it 'hilarious' that the morning she awoke in a peaceful (home was hell) mental ward on her way to jail for domestic violence covered in her abuser's resultant bruises and pumped with powerful antibiotics; it was on the first day of the last quarter of her grad school degree in - wait for it: marriage and family therapy. They call it an MFT. (Her eventual solace might theoretically be that what does not kill one....)
She didn't have time to deal with any saving the world, other people problems that summer or that day - just the paying of the entity that freed her from the poor people torture asylum AKA jail. Number two was getting paid -getting back to work ($) and the triumvirate complete with school (dream) and repairing the damage that her spouse had inflicted not just on her body - it was only three days after THE DAY of nuclear marriage an argument from which one cannot return/repair (she would have tried the little trying fool - whatever cardboard box to contort into). She had time to survive. She was secretly thrilled she wanted to survive and not shame cave melt. She had that tattoo on her tramp stamp after all - that reminder that death was the victim play. Forgiveness is the deepest revenge.
But that would all be later. When you're on the bottom, priorities shift. who the fuck has the money for organic or boycotting amazon - especially when your mom sends you a gift card and it makes you cry because you've been so poor you've lost your fucking mind several times. "this isn't college - shit".
And prior to the poor, indeed a deluge: a rage-fueled spending spree with the mantra "THAT motherfucker has ALL the nice things from HIS ex-wife's money. THIS fucking me person will HAVE VALUE for myself and will REPLACE the nice things."
Don't worry she uses the rice cooker a lot. Y'all, she poor (the best rice is kokuho rose). He knocked her to a new reality after knocking her to the ground (thrice that night once before). But that morning, she rolled out of bed full of the only thing she had left: dead and dying jelly fish larvae gathering in her ear, self-pity, and RAGE (which she would later remind herself was a secondary emotion). She was also going to have to put calling the doctor on the list high as to get through this without music/headphones.... god, she was so alone as it was.
Much of it had to do with the extremes in which she liked to play I guess. The reason she chose to value herself are those were the last words she said while lovemaking the toxic wimp spouse on July 3rd (the day before she got sick): "this feels so good because I'll tell you later why yet I finally VALUE myself..."
I'm not going to tell you why she values herself because it's not all my story. But all decent storytellers leave you something. As she was swimming in Caper's island on July 1st (her soon to be ex-stepdaughter's 21st bday) all alone but with the other less-swimmer people from the "3-hour cruise" walking along the beach... she felt like a child again. Safe and in the ocean. She literally had the thought "and if there were jellyfish, the people walking would see them and warn me." The tidal pool was vast and flat - perfect sand dollar shores. She wiggled her toes and anchored her feet in the awesome sand mud but she didn't do that anymore - take endangered things lightly. The water was warm. She swam for almost the entire 50 minute break. Her friend Grace got in the water to pee towards the middle. She knew she had to say something. It was a dart in her hell heart.
"Grace, I'm a little weird today. I found out something about my father. He's more of a monster than I ever imagined, and I was not the special holder of his worst acts. For some weird reason, this makes me feel valued. I'm off my cross and humbled and sorry...."
She took it in nodding wearing her hot pink bathing suit.
They marched back to the boat at 11:11 as instructed. They were going to go eat some pigs , chomp some cabbage, and drink some sweet tea.
As she types this, she's cooking boiled peanuts (the asian markets are the source who would have known!) in the copper pans she bought (quality was the hour of the day for a nanosecond). She came to him with nothing material. He had two laundry baskets! He left her dirty. He dirtied her. She should have stop-ed. Coulda shoulda woulda vs. it is what it is. Sans peur fur alles y'all.
He had this phoenix tattoo on his arm. I guess it was cool.
She knew that trick too.
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