So, my stomach hurts again. Isn't that tee fucking riffic news? I personally was thrilled to wake up to that old familiar pain again this morning. I guess this means that I have to go have the CT scan tomorrow - yup, I'm going to do it and hope for the best. It strikes me that the best case scenario in all of this is still really not so hot: they won't be able to figure out what it is and I'll have to give up all the things I like. Black coffee, spicy food, alcohol, handsome, insincere men - they're all bad for me and must go.
I went to see my zen therapist this morning after a month or so break. I was kind of dreading it, because first of all I thought he would be mad at me for not coming in for a month and then I thought, oh gods, the minute I tell him I've been sick for umpteen days he's going to start telling me it's a metaphor. He did. I told him he was predictable. He laughed. It was okay. He said, "The last time you were here we were talking about you doing a threshold ceremony." A threshold ceremony, for those of you not from Asheville, is some kinda funky hippie ritual shit whereby you get rid of old stuff and make yourself ready for new stuff. Like, I need to give up, as above, black coffee, spicy food, alcohol and handsome, insincere men. Also, cigarettes. Also, my attachments to a few specific people and things and patterns that just are not good for me anymore (if they ever were. Well, sure they were. I never could have gotten this cynical without them.) I've been balking at this because I'm not very good at getting rid of things, first off, and then if I was going to get rid of my attachment to a certain person than I'd have to get rid of the stuff he gave me and that's some of my favorite music and I am NOT getting rid of my favorite music just because it came from someone specific. There must be an easier way.
So guru zen therapist said that I should probably do a ceremony, particularly after I ranted a bit about how I hated facing reality and that if visualization and all that shit worked than why was there anybody starving or unhappy in the world and, let's face it, reality in general and mine in specific kind of sucked and I was never, ever going to have a house or a partner or enough money in the bank to retire and it all sucked and so on and so forth. I wound down after a while and sighed. "Okay," I said, "I was thinking about having a dinner party this weekend but I guess I'll go out to the fucking woods and burn shit instead."
And maybe I will. If I'm not having my appendix or other bits of my interior anatomy carved out of me instead.