How much can I write in 30 minutes?

I’m at Zoup, a little soup shop next to where I work. First I went to Starbucks, but all the seats were taken. Then I drove across the street to Barnes and Noble, but they were all full too. Now I’m stuck at Zoup eating a cup of soup loaded with sodium. It’s already 4:18. I have to be back in 40 minutes.

I had an interesting client yesterday. He’s a plane crash survivor. He taken a little plane to fly from Misquamakut to Block Island and the little plane didn’t make it. Two out of the five people in the plane lived.

Me – “Wow, I don’t know how I’d deal with that. I would probably die of a heart attack before the plane hit the ground.”

Him – “Yeah, you have no idea what’s it’s like.”

Me – “Do you remember any of it?”

Him – “My ex remember’s more than I do. I blacked the whole thing out. I remember nothing.”

Me – “What’s the last thing you remember doing?”

Him – “We ate at friendly’s. I paid and got in my car and started driving and that’s as far as I remember. I remember friendly’s because there was food. I always remember food. If there was a steak on the plane, I would remember the plane.”

Me – “It’s incredible that you blocked out that much.”

Him – “It’s strange. I was driving down the highway one minute and the next I woke up days later in a hospital wearing a complete body cast.”

Me – “How long did it take you to recover?”

Him – “My body healed fully in about a year, but emotionally, I still struggle. It taken me a while to just walk out my front door.”

His story fascinated me. He has no recollection of the accident and yet he’s still emotionally affected by it.

He didn’t tell me who the three other people in the plane were that died. I didn’t ask because I knew if it was someone close, he would break out in tears – at least that’s what I would do.

Me – “Did you get some money out of it?”

Him – “Oh yeah. I got a bunch of money.”

Me – “Well that’s good at least.”

He shakes his head.

Him – “No, no, not good.”

Me – “It doesn’t compensate for what happened?”

Him – “It’s not that, it’s just that I was 22 and too young to know what to do with it all, so I took it to the bank and asked a financial advisor to help me. The guy invested it all into one type of investment – he said he was going to diversify it and scatter a little here and a little there, but this guy invested it all into (I can’t remember the name) and a few months later it was all gone. Nothing was left.”

I was completely heart broken. This guy is now 31, the plane crash happened when he was 20. He has a huge scar running across his forehead, his right arm is tore up with nerve damage, he probably lost loved one’s in the plane, and here he was gracing me on my table with his tales of woe with a happy demeanor.

I’m crushing on this guy. Maybe I’m crushing because he’s like a lost little happy puppy, or that he’s easy and fun to talk to. I never massaged him before, but I felt like we’ve known each other for a while.

It’s 4:40, I should leave in 10 minutes. One of my clients just walked into Zoup and said Hi. She’s my next client. I love this lady, she’s like family.

I’m loving everyone lately. I’m not cranky and tired anymore – I feel amazing and this sounds crazy but I think it’s from my new pillow. My old one was merinating too long in negativity that it was rubbing off on me every night I slept on it.

The first night with my new pillow I had a weird dream that there were two of me. One of me was locked away in a dungeonous jail cell while the other me roamed free outside. Whatever happened to the me in the jail cell, also happened to the me on the outside. I had to bring the jail cell Melanie presents and stuff to make her happy. Whatever would bring her happiness in the cell, would bring happiness to the Melanie on the outside. Even if it was fake stuff that made her happy – like a fake crown to wear on her head. It didn’t matter as long as she could pretend.

It was a powerfully enlightening dream. I should get back.

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Filed under journal, Self help

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