Unbroken by MaryCatherine McDonald

Author:MaryCatherine McDonald [McDonald, MaryCatherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: SEL043000 SELF-HELP / Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), SEL000000 SELF-HELP / General, PSY022040 PSYCHOLOGY / Psychopathology / Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)
Publisher: Sounds True

Chapter 5

Max’s Hourglass

When Loss Is Traumatic

Nothing can make up for the absence of someone whom we love, and it would be wrong to try to find a substitute; we must simply hold out and see it through. That sounds very hard at first, but at the same time it is a great consolation, for the gap, as long as it remains unfilled, preserves the bonds between us.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Max hasn’t stopped talking since I started the clock for our session. It’s been twenty-two minutes, and she hasn’t paused once—not to exchange niceties, not to take a breath, not to check in or ask a question.

“And then the last thing I didn’t tell you yet is that I’m pregnant. Pregnant! I made an appointment, though, because of course I’m not having it. You know, I keep thinking of an hourglass. Every time I close my eyes, I picture an hourglass. Except the sand isn’t going slow. It’s moving down fast. Faster and faster. And faster. Anyway, the point of all of this is that I just need someone who I can tell everything to, you know? Maybe that will slow the sand. I never tell anyone everything. It’s too much. Too much to carry. It’s too much for me. How could anyone else possibly handle it? But time is racing away, and I’m losing track and I just don’t know. Nothing makes any sense. So . . . do you think you can help?”

I feel a bit as if Max has just tossed a giant, gnarled up ball of yarn to me and said, “Here—this is my little life. If we can’t get it sorted fast, I can’t go on. Help!” I’m pretty sure I didn’t even catch all the storylines. Something about a big move, a scandal at work, a relationship-ending fight with her mother, the death of a friend, a divorce, and a pregnancy. It came at me so quickly that it felt like the plot of a telenovela—racing and irrational.

For some reason as she was talking, my mind got stuck on the hourglass image.

“This might seem a little random, but I want you to travel with me just for a minute,” I tell her. “We’ll make a plan and start sorting things out, but I want to tell you about sawdust art first.”

“Sawdust art?” Max looks pretty surprised, maybe a little annoyed.

“Yeah, I know. My students sometimes tell me that I’m the most random person they know. It will connect, I promise. Infiorata festivals take place in Italy in June every year. All night long, artists build intricate and beautiful carpets along the street using colored sawdust (they used to use flowers, but these days most of the displays are laid out with colored sawdust). They use little sifters and filters and stencils and paintbrushes, and they make this art that is more stunning than I can possibly describe, and they make it right there in the middle of the street. It’s bright, complex, hard to believe. They stay up all night, and it’s set up so you can walk around and watch as they create.

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