Serenity

Catherine felt feverish and agitated, it was not like it was the first time she had a friend over and though it was a recognizable and therefore somewhat welcoming feeling she truly didn't understand why she felt this way. She was blushing and feeling short out of breath; she had opened all the windows and let the winter cold consume her small apartment. The welcoming part of her emotional spectra was the acknowledgment of emotions. She was not numb or cold, as she had been tainted as many times before. She was in a hurry to finish the basic cleaning and crammed all the remaining clutter into the bedroom and study. She was not going to show Vivian around, they were only to meet for a short talk over a cup of coffee.

This was the first time Vivian would be over. Prior to this they had only met at their support group and twice at a cafe, diving head on into conversations about meaning of life, triggers and comparing medicine.

They had hit off immediately and Catherine could connect to most of Vivian's vivid behavioral descriptions. They laughed at their mishaps and manic adventurous. This is something a stranger to their emotional spectrum would find confusing and irrational. This was what made sense to them, a supportive talk, sharing emotions, having a cup of coffee with a mandatory hug. Some stories told on these meetings were deeply depressing and suicidal, other were the opposite adventures and opportunities to conquer the world. They laughed, sometimes cried and most importantly bonded.

Catherine had been a collector of many things throughout her life. One of the things she had collect were different support groups. She had recognized later in life that it had been a way for her to cope with life and put focus on the energy of the groups instead of focusing on her own health. It seemed like a contradiction but so was most of Catherine's behavior, a contraction. She could be lovable and compassionate one day, and cold as an ice queen the next. Her mood swings had become intolerable and sporadic for family and friends. It was no way to predict how she would react to both impulses and, or even motivation; even herself couldn't know what the next moment would bring her. There was always an inner turmoil present. Her self confidence was over the top but self esteem under the table. This was one of her many conflicts the presented itself in alternating characteristics. She seemed from outer perspective to have everything under control, but she and only she doubted her every movement, her every breath. In the search to heal her inner daemons she had hunted high and low and participated in endless self help groups. She had been active in AA, AL-anon, coda, SLAA and many more. Now with recent changes she had found herself in cahoot with Vivian and her group. Two broken souls trying to mend each other. Catherine and Vivian had hit off like fireworks and spent a lot of time sending each other links about psychology, discussions about medication and the ever lasting questions about meaning of life. Although Catherine had felt more at ease the last couple of weeks she could clearly see that Vivian was on an upcoming mind spree. She had the last couple of days flooded her social media with spiritual links of increasing your minds capacity. In that manner posts of Vivian wading an ice cold lake or standing beneath a water fall plunging gallons of self esteem over her had started to swamp her every online log ins. It was overwhelming and Catherine was in great distress and worries over her newfound friend. The videos showed Vivian under dressed or in a bikini stumbling into a pond or something similar and in each deception she chanted, almost in Tibetan style, while launching herself into the water: “mind over matter” over and over again. Then when she was finally in place, up the her neck she turned around and looked into the camera and always stated the same: “I am here showing you how distorted our reality is. Emotions and senses are all a fictions of the imagination. With simple techniques as breathing you can overcome all obstacles and excel mind over matter.” Then there was a simple smile with a frozen stare. End video. It was frigging February, and sometimes she even had to break the ice on the surface to get in. All her posts had the title: “Like the lake lady” and added to that an “@” and the name of the location, a lake or a waterfall.

Catherine did not connect with this and was deeply tormented. It seem all a little manic to her, but who was she to judge, she was juggling with her opinions, compassion and concern.

In midst of her erratic vacuuming a snowball came rupturing the cold air in her living room and teared her away from her train of thoughts. It thumped down with a big slop on the mid floor and gave her black cat a scared fit that made it storm away hissing to one of its hiding places.

Catherine looked out and down to her garden, there Vivian was standing and looking extremely energetic. “Oh, sorry, I thought the window was closed. I was just announcing my presence.”, she laughed in an unapologetic smirk. Catherine hid her bafflement in a laughter. “You loony, come up, you have to take the backdoor. Press the second doorbell from the top, so I can let you in.”

Catherine hurried to get a towel from the bathroom to clean up the mess. Vivian was half an hour early. She didn't know if this was a good sign or a bad one. Catherine had less then enough time to clean up Vivian's mess and put the frozen cardamom buns for heating in the oven before the doorbell rang its loud buzz. Vivian was clearly in a hurry as she did not let go of the button. “Hold your horses! Hold your horses,” Catherine grinded her thoughts between her teeth. Almost as soon as she had pressed her in she was banging on her door: “let me in,” she must have ran up the two flights of stairs.

Catherine opened the door, and with a quick “heey!” Vivian had already given her a brief hug and stormed into her apartment. “I love your place it is so, you, so spacey”, did she mean like “far out” or spacious; Catherine felt it was neither. There was no room far arguments. She already had stomped her way into her bedroom and study, picking up random things, looking at them with a distant interest and displacing them. Her tiny figure was pulsating with her breath, sometimes big, sometimes small, and like a mist she was floating aimlessly around the apartment, talking jargon in circles. Catherine had difficulties to follow. “Oh I see you like motorcycles”, she said, as she picked up a random coffee table book and expelling it into the categorized works of impressionists on a top shelf. I guess Vincent would love to tour south of France on a Harley, Catherine thought to herself as her vague smile tightened.

“Hey, lets go and sit in the living room, I've made coffee and heated some buns”

“Oh, sweetie, I can't eat, I'm fasting at the moment, damn, your living room is freezing cold, you should close your window before someone throws a snowball in, I'm keeping my coat on.”

Was this really the lake lady speaking, thought Catherine

Her words came bursting out, tumbling around each other, she wasn't sure if Vivian had breathed in or out the at all, it was like her movement of words exploded way faster than Catherine could grasp. She closed the window. When she turned around Vivian had brought out a small droplet looking thing and put it to her lips. For a moment Catherine thought that she had some sort of ancient Asian flute and was going to play her a song, it wouldn't have surprised her at all. “Is it OK if use my pod inside” she sad and exhaled a cloud of blueish smoke carpeting the room; she didn't wait for an answer. “I don't know if you noticed, but last week I was a little down; but a couple of days ago I have solved it. I found the right micro dozing for me,” she was talking about LSD, “it took me a while, but I think I have found the perfect dose for keeping me stable above the average boring line, not at a manic top but, really not flat either.” She was jumping from one thing to the other, “Do you know that the human soul have a radius of about 90 blocks? I can sense everyone around me for 45 blocks in all directions.” She pointed randomly, “my cousin is brushing his teeth in a distance of 22 blocks in that direction.” Catherine was curious and wanting to know why Vivian's cousin was brushing his teeth in the middle of afternoon and why the soul was so specifically measured in sized of blocks, but bit her tongue to quite her urge. Vivian continued, “You know you and I are the same, we are awake, we know what is happening around us. We are not asleep as the rest of the population, walking zombies, stuck in their internal loop of thoughts, future or past, never the present; we are in the present, you and I, that is why we connect.” Catherine knew she was right. This had been the basis of their last meeting over a coffee. It had been obvious how absent minded everyone else was. Even in midst of observed conversations they were thinking about something else, grocery shopping, a past argument or a future planned holiday. They were the only ones that were present. For moment Catherine had even thought that they were the only one alive at all.

Vivian had been head of the psychiatric ward at the university hospital until her breakdown. She had been convinced that the board of the hospital were spying on her, hence she started to record every conversation and meeting because with a small camera. Her superiors were set on a mission to infiltrate her work. This had ended in a huge fight, a lawsuit and Vivian being dismissed from work, plunging her into depression. Vivian continued Catherine's thoughts, almost like a psychic.

“You know, it was a blessing for me to get sacked. It gave me the opportunity to see the other side of the ward, as a patient.” She had told Vivian this story before, about the electric shock treatment, in detail how it was executed, something that seemed so far fetched like in an old horror movie. It was still the most widespread treatment beside psychotherapy and mood stabilizers, but oh it seemed so barbaric. Vivian became quite, and a puzzled look engraved her face.

“I am repeating myself, aren't I?”

Ever since the treatment her short term memory had been affected and which led to Vivian often telling Catherine the same stories over and over. Still it had had a huge affect on her life, it had cleared out all the suicidal voices of depression. She had calmed down.

“Catherine, tell me more about yourself, what makes you tick? What keeps you busy?”

“You mean like hobbies?”

Vivian hadn't asked much about Catherine before, and she had been pleased with that in her codependent lifestyle. Now she was put to the spot.

“I am as you, a butterfly, not being able to stay long on my flower, always in need to search out for something new, to keep me occupied and not bored.”

I studied art for a long time, specifically classical piano, it was my greatest joy, being able to be consumed by music, letting the notes swarm around me. I played in bands along with my classical studies. I really enjoyed every moment of it, expressing my emotions sometimes with a single tone. Every essence of me breathed music. I heard it everywhere, the rhythm of a cashiers breathing, the pulsating sound of a city or the violins of the wind, it flooded my mind. Until I couldn't take it anymore.

I became bored and refocused on drawing and painting. I saw the similarities, and my view of the world shifted and I experienced an altered relative truth. I now had perspective and contrast as a visual aid. My previous black and white perception had suddenly erupted into full Technicolor. The world was pulsating and I mimicked it with paintings and drawings, until its pulse got weaker and in due time it had stagnated to a halt.

Music came somewhat back to me again, but in a tactile matter. I danced. I took classes in ballroom and social dancing. For a short while I was a legitimate zumba instructor. A new world opened. To feel the connection with a partner in dance, allow nuances to alter movements with a slight change of the wrist, a tilt forward or a sensitive pressure pointed at my shoulder, enhanced my palpable view. I experienced the whole world through the tips of my fingers.

Of course soon my fingers went numb from life's repetitions and I found myself wrapped into punching and working out in boxing. The rhythm from music and movements from dancing was utilized in fast and light moves. Dancing around my opponent and stinging him like a bee. My sense of scent was optimized and I could easily detect the smell of fear in my opponents and crush them with my flow. After a while this lead me to becoming a judge and a referee. Even for a while I was aiming to become a referee at the Olympics but as before, life got meaningless and tasteless.

Then I found my palate. Food had always been a necessity for energy for me, nothing more, nothing less. In my strict workouts as a boxer I had to focus on the food, what to eat and when, so I started to cook more. That outdid my awareness of the world and with enhanced smell I found myself seeking more and more the solitude in my kitchen exploring and lifting my consciousness to new heights. The cuisine elevated my world view and the world became my oyster, literally.

My taste for exotic food culture brought me to India where I ended up a year in Bodh Gaya seeking refuge in Buddhism. Approaching what often is misunderstood a spiritual path, I found myself heightening my logical and analytical mind, observing the growth of my inner awareness, compassion, insight and wisdom. After my retreat, I came back and started to teach meditation, witch basically is constructed by doing nothing on my pillow while refocusing from thoughts to my support of breathing. Of course flicker of boredom tried to linger into my thoughts. But so far it has not penetrated my essence.

And that is when I finally got my diagnosis and met you.

Catherine looked deep into Vivian's tear filled eyes.

“Why are you crying?”

“You don't need me anymore. I am a mere reflection in your mirror, a fiction of your imagination,” Vivian said with a genuine smile, as she stood up and with a single motion pushed herself into Catherine's body, into her heart and mind.

As Catherine elevated up to the sky she looked down on the palette of her emotions, it was beautifully laid out with all her senses. She understood now, her purpose was found, she was a collector of emotions through her search of a meaning. It was not a failure or boredom that had brought her to new experiences, it was part of the acquisition. She looked at her life's collection and could see it now made sense. It was complete. She was now able to share her information and discoveries.

It was time to write.