Had a massage. Melting. Drank a steaming hot cup of milk&honey (frangelico, absolute vanilla, almond milk, cinnamon-sugar rim). Glowing. The last time I was on a mountain was two years ago, right after Andrea died. I collapsed at the airport and thought I was dying but then had surgery and woke up very much alive. She was the one who was dead. I don't talk about it very much anymore because the world has moved on but my best friend crashed into a truck and it took her half a day to die and I didn't know. I spent those exact same hours in another hospital convinced the one who was dying was me. Losing her... is worse than everything. I think of the shitty things the universe has thrown me throughout this lifetime and this is worse. Somewhere in the midst of the haze that follows being cut open in a foreign country and lying through your teeth to get out of the hospital and all the while trying to figure out why your best friend isn't answering her phone, someone decided that the best thing to do following a trauma like this would be to fly across the world to go skiing, in Sweden. I don't know whose idea this was. My mom's? My dad's? I'm not sure but someone decided that cold mountain air and snow and family was the most appropriate way for me to heal. I don't remember how we got there, just that Dennis carried me through parts of the airport and that Ringo was there. I was in so much pain I couldn't stand up straight. We made it to Åre (how? By car? Plane?) where we used to have a cabin and where I spent all my winters skiing growing up. I've been on a pair of skis since I was two years old but this time I could barely get out of bed on my own. There was no actual skiing involved in this trip for me. Just my mom and dad who don't like each other very much and couldn't hide it even though they tried their best for the sake of their first-born wanting to die, and all. It was the worst trip but also so beautiful because I hadn't gotten to the point of actually feeling anything yet. I just sat there for a week in the snow with Ringo on my lap watching the snow glisten in the sun thinking; "One day I'll understand". I still don't.

yoga_girlさん(@yoga_girl)が投稿した動画 -

レイチェル・ブレイセンのインスタグラム(yoga_girl) - 2月14日 11時16分


Had a massage. Melting. Drank a steaming hot cup of milk&honey (frangelico, absolute vanilla, almond milk, cinnamon-sugar rim). Glowing.
The last time I was on a mountain was two years ago, right after Andrea died. I collapsed at the airport and thought I was dying but then had surgery and woke up very much alive. She was the one who was dead. I don't talk about it very much anymore because the world has moved on but my best friend crashed into a truck and it took her half a day to die and I didn't know. I spent those exact same hours in another hospital convinced the one who was dying was me. Losing her... is worse than everything. I think of the shitty things the universe has thrown me throughout this lifetime and this is worse. Somewhere in the midst of the haze that follows being cut open in a foreign country and lying through your teeth to get out of the hospital and all the while trying to figure out why your best friend isn't answering her phone, someone decided that the best thing to do following a trauma like this would be to fly across the world to go skiing, in Sweden. I don't know whose idea this was. My mom's? My dad's? I'm not sure but someone decided that cold mountain air and snow and family was the most appropriate way for me to heal.
I don't remember how we got there, just that Dennis carried me through parts of the airport and that Ringo was there. I was in so much pain I couldn't stand up straight. We made it to Åre (how? By car? Plane?) where we used to have a cabin and where I spent all my winters skiing growing up. I've been on a pair of skis since I was two years old but this time I could barely get out of bed on my own. There was no actual skiing involved in this trip for me. Just my mom and dad who don't like each other very much and couldn't hide it even though they tried their best for the sake of their first-born wanting to die, and all.
It was the worst trip but also so beautiful because I hadn't gotten to the point of actually feeling anything yet. I just sat there for a week in the snow with Ringo on my lap watching the snow glisten in the sun thinking; "One day I'll understand". I still don't.


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