Broken Things

My stairs broke, but I got them patched. It’s not worth calling the landlord again until they fall off (again). We’ve had both the front and back stairs collapse since we’ve lived here. They’ve both been replaced, but only the front ones with any competence, and I’m not confident doing it again would make things better.

My closet rod broke, leaving me with no clothes storage for a while. It’s been broken since we moved in – it’s a 10′ span with no support – but I’ve never had enough clothes for it to matter. So I’m glad to have visible changes in my life, even if they don’t always feel real ¹Dressing for the plauge put me right back in armor survival mode. I started thinking about clothes as protection from the world and suddenly my brain was back to survival dress. I needed to have a buffer layer of shitty clothes between me and better ones, so my body doesn’t contaminate them. I needed to have none at all if I wasn’t using them … Continue reading . And I’m glad to have fixed a thing that’s been broken in my house for most of a decade.

My ice maker broke, and it has had a bigger impact than I expected. I have spoken about it before, in terms of using ice as an alternative to hot beverages, but I didn’t see my own attachment to the ritual. I want it back, so I can feel in control of my access to palatable ²All else being equal, almost any liquid is more tolerable, and often safer, cold. There are exceptions of course, but if you have to gag down something unpleasant cold can make it a lot easier. It’s also evidence that I not only have liquid now but will also have fairly clean water in the future. It’s a great reassurance to 5-year-old me. water. I think it’s just the water tray mechanism that’s broken, and not any of the cooling loop, so I think I’m going to pull it open and see if I can find the fault. Worst case scenario is that it’s still broken when I’m done.

Shanda is pushing back against broken, headed toward something a little less tense. There’s still a decent amount of pandemic panic, but notably less than before. We no longer seem to be desperately at the brink, which makes cooperation a lot easier, and puts us on the path to something more plausibly sustainable.

Dog is moving the other way, more broken then before. He’s totally off his right leg now when standing still, and hobling pretty bad when he decides to walk, but mostly he lays still on the ground. He hasn’t been up for walks for a while but he has looked pretty feeble even moving around the house some recent days. I hope we can find some way to make it eaiser on him, until we can get him healed. Who knows how long it will be before the treatment provider will be open again; there are only a few days when I can carry a 60 pound dog up and down the stairs repeatedly.

Here’s my broken, recently seen in new light – the only way I know how to really be safe is to be dead. I have known this since I was 5 and it has at times been a great comfort to me. No matter how much I suffered, no matter who had control over me, I could have hope knowing it would eventually end. Unbreakable hope that demands nothing, depends on nothing, other than patience and thermodynamics. So I built great patience, and I kept hope. But I need something more repeatable than death if I’m ever to feel safe. I will have it when I die ³You told me once that, at least in that last minute of your life you could really be sure whether or not someone stuck with you. Truely safe, finally, if only for one moment. Maybe we can both find a way to feel safe enough even if we can’t really be safe, and soon enough that we can live with that feeling instead of merely dying with it., but it would do me a lot more good if I could have some sooner.

ZiB

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Sent from a phone.

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