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I looked up into the storm as she hung over my bed. Droplets of rain kissed my face… thunder groaned piercing my bones…and the storm cloud looked back at me. With gray eyes she lingered upon the broken bits…And she spoke with a breath of ozone and the echo of great bells. “You are going to survive this” The storm said rising heavy and thick to press against the ceiling with a beating flash of golden wings “I will it so”. She faded as if blown out by a great gale her voice ringing again… as gentle as lightening and it stripped me of my pain. “We owe you this much and more”.The alarm blares long enough to ensure that getting out of bed is as irritating as possible. The thrust of the noise intrudes cutting into my haze. Reaching for the phone I try to hit the dismiss button as quickly as humanly possible. It’s not even 5am yet…I feel like I had just fallen asleep. It isn’t if I ever sleep soundly anyways. I often startle myself awake several times a night. The dreams of the guilty are not restful. I worked hard to be exhausted... otherwise…I would probably never sleep at all.Keeping up with a steady stream of work has helped reduce my panic attacks. I’ve been functioning like a person since I started my go-no-where job. The long hours give me something to fill out my day. I need something to get out of bed for. Every day I get just a little bit farther from my pain.Clocking out at midnight last night left me brain dead. A double shift yesterday insured that today is going to be exhausting. I could appreciate exhaustion. The dish pit wasn’t a bad place to be on a Tuesday evening at the Diner.I generally enjoy doing dishes. There something that appeals to that anti-social repetitive part of me. It is soothing being drenched in warm water, in my own little world, simply focused on what is in front of me.Washing dishes certainly beats running the line when every other cook is a guy. There wasn’t another woman working in the back of the restaurant. It is a situation I would have avoided at all cost when I first started at the Diner…but I needed luxury items…like food and a place to live that wasn’t in my car.I don’t have the temperament to pick up tables with the other girls; nor any desire too. I would rather wash dishes than suck up for tips. At least I know I can bring home a paycheck…no matter how small that check may be.Tired has been a constant companion of mine for a very long time. I thought I was going to run off the road on my way home last night. I spent a second or two trying not to think that the only people who would miss me were some of my coworkers…and that was entirely too depressing. I could feel the tightness in my throat.I could not get out of the restraints. They made a soft “swift, swift” sound as twirled my wrists loosely in them. Back and forth I twitched my cuffs…again… and again… and again. I kept trying to get out… and I didn’t know exactly why I bothered.The restraints upset me when I knew…I knew… I needed to be calm. I just wanted to check myself out and I got aggressive with the nurse at the checkout desk. I wouldn’t have hurt her…I didn’t even touch her. She was afraid of me. I’d just had enough ‘help’ to last me my entire life. I was ready to go.When I ignored the nurse who had been trying to stall me I brushed past her and tried to get through the steel doors. She called security. I am very sure she was being reasonable but she had this look on her face. Like she knew what was under my clothing…what I carried around with me. The scars would always be there.She had seen me raw and open sweating out my pain to the world. I scared her… at least what had happened to me did. It didn’t hurt me to have someone afraid of me. It made me….so very angry. She couldn’t handle that I was alive.

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