when i was a little girl, i had a tin box that i would hide my most precious treasures in. you know: glittering rocks, a single blue marble, my grandmother's comb, grass from my grandfather's garden in denmark, and the luxurious ends of ribbons my mother would aggressively snip away from the sewing machine.
having european parents, it undoubtedly formerly held bickies, either shortbread or chocolate covered digestives to be certain.
but once emptied, washed and clasped within my grasp, it became my magic box inside and out. for every day of the week was inscribed on all sides of that gleaming can. of course, i can't remember a single one, but tuesday's, for i was born on a tuesday.
[i wrote the former part of this blog in the hospital, i am now writing the remainder from rehab after a 72 hour hold.]
i do remember i preferred every inscription to tuesday's for it stated, "tuesday's child is full of grace", and as a little girl, i always felt unusual, somewhat ungainly, just different. it wasn't until the burgeoning pre-teen years, that i began to twist my opinion to view those qualities as unique, special, talented, loved.
i don't know what happened to that tin box once filled with childhood treasures, that a little girl cherished and delighted in. it was emptied long ago, tsunamied by 30 years of renal failure. it then became just a strongbox of stone age hopes, cubic zirconia dreams and an invisible club of eclectic strangers waiting to rise up and steep her world. indeed, it is the invisible detritus of addiction that now lies comfortably in that tin box.
our addictions are invisible to your eye, but they scrape us, 'til bleeding, at our souls. legitimate pain married with emotional pain times painkiller abuse equals a very desperate addict. and a very sad woman.
or am i just a human being? an addict who has done reprehensible things, born with the gene of addiction, who is desperate to become healthy and trustworthy again?
maybe it is when i forgive myself, that the box will overflow in ways that little girl never imagined...and grace will fill my heart again...
and i'll be full of grace...
i feel guilty.
i feel gutted.
i feel guillotined.
i have no phone access, except 3 approved persons can call me.
i cannot take any photos.
i have very limited computer access.
everyone is very professional, warm and genuine.
but, i have never been more terrified in my life.
i love you so very much, campbell and lorraine.
thank you for calling, kim.
thank you, my dearest elyssa.