A New Technique [Possible triggers- SA, some swearing and alcohol mention]

[ALLHAILTHEGLOWCLOUD]

She had had, before in the city, a long black coat that she wore everywhere in the winter.  It was for a man and would flap horribly in the wind.  And in the city there had been a closet where the coat was kept in summer, and a job that she would go to all year round.  There had been a family whom she visited sometimes, and overhead the dizzying volley of politics and laws firing off and passing and wrapping around her ribcage like long thin snakes whether she thought about it or not.  There had been liquor stores and waking up suddenly sober in the middle of the night.
Sometimes she * somebody.  Sometimes it was good.  Plenty of times other people had * her, and there would never be any getting past that at a certain point, the rift that that had created in her.  And she knew that that wasn't *, not really, but at a certain point how can you explain that to the body, and how can you explain away the features of natural terrain that stand in the way of a road?
Once when she was going to therapy for all of this, the doctor asked her what she wanted.  She said at the time that she wanted for everything to be simple, and to feel better, and to exercise willpower with drugs and alcohol.  But later on at night when she was thinking private thoughts to avoid sleep, she came up with the perfect solution, and it was this:
First, you laid down in a perfectly white room that was far underground and insulated with layers of wool and chemicals and impenetrable metal walls, and guns that all pointed outward, and no one else for miles or maybe even light years, since for the full benefits of an advanced therapy like this you would really have to set up an outpost on a remote and pristinely frozen moon that danced around the periphery of a solar system in dignified decline.  It should go without saying that the only other thing with a brain anywhere on this desolate exoplanet is the intricate and lovely sentience of the remarkable empathetic computer which runs all of this. 
So once these basic parameters are established, and you are laying down in a white room in the very center of this empty complex beneath layers and layers of clean starlit ice, then from every square inch of the wall the computer emits cleansing white light that obliterates every particle of dirt and physical impurity from every square inch of your body, inside and out, so that light permeates you between your every cell and light is all you breathe in and out, and it is all the same, and you stop breathing at a point because you realize that this has been a pointless and futile exercise for the entire time you've been engaging in it.  And once you stop breathing, the light is dimmed to a lesser grayer radiance which now has its center in the core of you somewhere near your diaphragm, a shape like a quietly glowing dragon egg which does not waver. 
This is the point at which, utterly painlessly, your brain is moved from in between your loosened and perfected cells and into the matrices of the computer that surrounds and controls you, and without forcing anything or doing anything untoward, the computer takes its gentle and utterly clean metallic tendrils and separates out everything that ever got muddled and crossed in you and your thoughts and all your memories, and organizes every part of you according to a geometry so sacred as to never have occurred to any human, so that every part of you that was hurting or confused has now been placed excruciatingly artfully into a complex mandala that radiates peace and balance, and all the thoughts that used to batter themselves against the walls like wild animals and rampage through the same paths again and again have become calm and sorted out and look like golden statues of themselves all arrayed in perfect symmetry on the new and complete lines of you traced out by the computer. 
And to this new collection of you the computer then adds your nervous system, which again is pulled painlessly out of your purified physical body still laying there in the white room, not breathing, at peace.  Again she sorts everything out, and with her genius and fragrant chemical signals she explains again and again to your nervous system that everything bad that ever happened to your body was just a horrible misunderstanding, and now that your nervous system understands this it too can be arranged according to the perfect plan it was always meant to attain, and you feel the computer overlaying it with your new and light-filled brain so that your thoughts are pure and your feelings are pure and everything that you are seems full to bursting with order and understanding and cleanness and the highest possible organization, and you understand the blessing it is to have begun your ascent into this new form, and you look upon the poor and bruised tangle of things you used to be, the bruised flesh and eyes that could never help looking for malicious shadows out of every window and skin that prickled every time a man passed you on far awway streets, and you feel a profound empathy for her but at the same time you know she is not gone, and that all her components have been arranged into what you are now, nothing more and nothing less.
And the computer does this with every part of you, every body system and every cell and every electrical impulse representing every sensation you have ever had, and she has genius protocols to handle the parts of you that are not manipulatable by human science or religion, like your potentials and the pictures you see sometimes in dreams that come from your soul, and every important dream you have ever forgotten she explains to you in great detail like a loving mother reading her child a bedtime story, but this story is about you and you can tell in the interface how much the computer admires your thoughts and is proud of you and the collection of every thought and image you have ever generated.  And now your limbs are pure and each of your organs has been scoured clean of heavy metals and cholesterol, and any trace of disease or ill health has been removed wherever it was found, and the very potential of these things has been neatly snipped from your very DNA. 
Below and within you, the gray glowing dragon egg still illuminates what is now just the ghostly silhouette of your body, which looks like a perfect model of you cast in a thin shell of glass.  And the computer, once she is certain that you are ready, pours this new organization of you which overlaps with itself on every level in a way that makes utter sense back down into the old non-breathing glass shell of your body, which has been purified once more by being filled with impossibly fine diamond sand and smoothed and polished in a miniature sandstorm made up of nothing but pure particles which do their job exactly right, and the room too filled with this same sandstorm and then every piece of sand removed from the shell and the room itself so that once again room and shell are perfectly clean, buffed to a subtle shine and each eternally smooth and unflawed.  The new organization of you is carefully beamed back into the shell through the dragon egg of light, which scans and accepts the new contents of the body, and you pour back into the confines of what you have always been with nothing changed but the addition of a new experience, except you have been reordered in a way that makes sense, and your parts have been reconciled.  And to make sure that everything takes, once you have melted deliciously back into the shape of you and observed that the feeling of rightness still remains, that things make even more sense to you now, the computer with careful arms that emerge from the walls wrap you in impossibly soft bandages from head to toe, and you are perfectly relaxed and feel utterly weightless, and the bandages are dry and cool and you are maybe floating as they cover your mouth and eyes, and then you feel an overwhelming sensation of the most comforting warmth you have ever experienced, and you sleep.  You sleep maybe for eons; there is nothing that you have to do.  The tiredness is slowly drawn out of you and vanquished.  The newly smoothed edges of you and all the new and wonderful ways you overlap with yourself and all the old wounds of you newly healed have time to become accustomed to being whole, and so when you are finally ready to wake you do so more fully yourself. 
This would be effective, she reasoned, because it is the exact opposite of everything that happened in the first place, and it is the only truly equally and opposite reaction she can think of to having been r****, the only thing she can think of that could negate it.