I need a quiet space to reflect on what is important to me, as we ramp up to the rape trial. I find social media to be too distracting right now, with its two-way noise. Selfishly and toward self-preservation and balance, I need a quiet room where I ponder thoughts that matter to me and pay attention to things that inspire me. This quiet space is rare in today’s hustling, bustling world, particularly when you are working to build your own brands. So here I sit and here I write.
Everything here represents something I enjoy or remember fondly from other days. The pale blue I surround myself with is the pale blue of my bedroom as a child and teenager. I hated it then, as it was so formal with floral curtains made of 100 percent silk and carpet of wool. The burglar alarm click-clicked around the clock in motion detection, “Click-click. Click-click.”
My two-poster bed of cherry wood and carved spindles hosted a sumptuous white damask goose-down duvet. A spring floral sofa that looked like a Monet painting provided reading space under giant plantation windows. My angled art table hosted my collection of watercolors, pastels and oils.
Just outside the windows I could see enormous oak trees, purple lilies that lined our front walk and a weather vane atop the carriage house that creaked in the wind. An American flag flew in the breeze during the day, before we removed it and carefully folded it into its triangle at night.
I suffered peacefully in this room when I was 13. It was October 31, 1983 and my appendix was about to rupture. I remember only the stillness of everything except the floral silks blowing in the fresh autumn breeze, lapping at the side of my bed. I remember breathing the air in quietly and talking to God, alone in the pain. It was the most beautiful day of my life because I learned everything I needed to know about death. It is now my most reflected-upon, peaceful memory.
I realized that day that when it comes down to the big moments in an individual’s life, it is just you and God – and those you feel around you but cannot see. Since that time, I retreat into myself when in pain or otherwise suffering. I am retreating here now, to keep myself together as I approach what I believe is the big event of my life, this trial. I need quiet space. I need to keep myself focused and inspired. I don’t need someone to see it or remark. I need only to write.
I start now, #100days to trial.