prompt 12: in order to feel safe enough to face the pain, I would...need blankets and pillows and plates to throw. maybe a trampoline to bounce in. flowing water to distract with. I would need my teacher by my side. I would need food waiting for me when it was done. water with me. I would want a soft animal with me, too. one that could put itself on my heart and let the floodgates open. I was scared reading this as I thought I'd have to go to the pain. Instead, I like feeling senior and neutral in a space I set up, and bring the pain to me to read and embrace, softly. there's a space keeper, if not two. my phone is on "do not disturb" and airplane mode but on hand and I can call anyone who could validate me. I would have plants and flowers around me. I would be in the ocean, the biggest hug I've ever felt in this life. the sun would be shining so I would have my pain met with love and care and comfort. I start thinking of what the pain itself would look like and I can't. no pictures- it hurts too much to be anything but naively numb. or bravely numb. I would need every art supply I have, just in case I need to use any. perhaps a big, big sketch pad and some charcoal. most importantly, I would need a hug. GOD would I need a hug. my mama rubbing and scratching my back. my brother holding my hand. only us survivors together. i would want a giant bed. a clean pool to dive into. maybe a fireplace? no fireplace. grass. grounding under my feet. enough space and room to yell and scream. it hurts to do that with a septum ring into the pillow. all the good desserts even though I wouldn't eat any of them. so many flowers hung and strung like holiday garland. shiksa garland. I would need bravery. I have bravery already, but I don't have the environment. I would need something to type with in case the words can't leave my tight and closed throat. a sweet iced drink for extra comfort. a pony tail holder. painkillers and a puke bucket. no walls. a punching bag. ice. scissors and paper and all. probably a sharpie and picture of the president. i hate the president. i blame the sob. i blame god. i forgive god, though. the truth is, I don't know what my pain will look like in the sense of facing it in a prepared way. I have never experienced this or done this before. no pain has ever or may ever amount to this. it's insanely massive and wildly unfathomable. it creeps up on me and I do my best in the moment it arrives. but to prepare means using every tool in the box and opening up to it ever so gently with guidance and next steps for aftercare so I would know that that present moment won't be forever. I will need so much sunshine and so many clouds and so many breezes to alleviate it all. I will need anything to make it less real. I will need to do this one day, won't I?