Lot's wife: what's her name?

Previously: Sometimes you just have to stop and bitch about the roses.

When God decided to overturn and destroy the five cities of the plain, He sent angels to rescue Lot and his family, on the condition that they not look back. But Lot's wife disregarded the command and turned back to see the destruction of the city - and was turned into a pillar of salt. Lot and his two daughters escaped to the hills.

I love Lot's wife. She was told "Don't turn back." This expression means: "don't return to what is behind." But she did look back, she was only human and it's only human to look back at least to gain some insight to what's ahead.

I am still having a hard time 'looking back'.

The worst parts of my 'story', that Joe is telling so well, are not mine. They are owned by other people, their reactions to what I was going through while I was in coma. My sister cried reading his posts. I, on the other hand, am amused. I enjoy listening to my friends and family telling me morbid details of how bad I was. My aunt, Tia Neusa - an angel AND a friend - kept a diary of the two months she spent by my bedside. Reading it creaped me out - I felt I was intruding.

I've been in Brasil for a month now. Recovery. Physical and, tentatively, mental. I finally had my first psychotherapy session and I literally vomited at the end. My meds mess up my stomach but it doesn't matter - my psychiatrist now has fodder for high flights with Lacan (everybody is lacanian in Brazil, it seems).

I feel I am getting stronger but not enough to have a plan. I need a plan.

I also feel that I do not conform to the general expectation of how I should be reacting and although I am aware that people's expectations should not be my concern - they were not created by me - I can't help but question why I am refusing to look back and think it over. Is it just denial? When I refered to the event that led me to the hospital as an 'accident', my therapist said 'There are no accidents'. I disliked her immediately. She also asked me: "You are not doing drugs anymore, are you?" I thought that was extremely odd. And I got on the defensive which pissed me off because I wished I had found my Switzerland.

Sorry, I still do not have any amazing insight to share with you. But I am working on it, more actively now: I'm not Lot anymore. Now I want to be his wife. What's her name?

Who will grieve for this woman? Does she not seem
too insignificant for our concern?
Yet in my heart I never will deny her,
who suffered death because she chose to turn.
Tears for Lot's Wife, by Anna Akhmatova