SERIOUS SCIENTIFIC DATA ABOVE^
This has been a week, and not one that I will look back on fondly.
Not to get all doom and gloomy on ya, but last week sucked. Big time.
There were so many things thwarted, such despicable levels of mis-communication,
so. many. clusterfucks. that I suspect they were being trucked in from the mouth of hell.
And I don’t even believe in hell!
Undiagnosable illnesses, lab results………………………………………………pending.
Crazy unexplainable accidents and money missing. Gone!
Appointments missed with no explanation and traffic for no reason. At seven-thirty in the morning; noon; three-fifteen; and midnight.
Traffic! For no good reason!
Fights.
Texts gone bad.
I want to write a book someday on the dangers of texting.
DO NOT TEXT IMPORTANT SHIT. Pick up the phone and make the two-minute call. I can’t garner the nuance, your tone of voice or your sarcasm, FROM A TEXT!
No emoticon is sufficient.
Just so you know, everything you texted made you sound like a douche last week.
As much as I tried to OMMMM my way above the fray, I got dragged down into it where it bloodied my nose and ruined my favorite shoes.
At three o’clock on Friday morning I found myself violently ill. (It’s not what you’re thinking.)
There I lay, alternating between sweating and chills, nausea and diarrhea, lunacy and sanity. I actually watched myself from a much more comfortable vantage point somewhere outside my body, Lamaze breathing my way through wave after wave of energy the strength of which I’ve seldom felt before. (See, I told you.)
“Full Moon” were the only two words I was able to croak to my husband who was in the midst of his own dark energy, awefulizing, 3 a.m. marathon. It wasn’t that the energy was actually dark. It just felt relentless and oppressive as it built all week (Who am I kidding? It was all month and most likely all year), and the release looked a lot like a Mento wafer in a bottle of Coke.
It felt like the mother of all detoxes. Because it was you guys!
It was that kind of Blue Moon. Purging, letting go of the past and all of its pent-up anger, frustration, resentment, fear, lack of sleep and just the general angst and malaise that’s been building up.
Oh shit, I thought, I just wrote about this. You can’t run clear water through gucked up pipes.
You want to be a clear channel for clarity, creativity, intuition, inspiration, ideas, luck, fun and love—you’ve gotta clean out the pipes occasionally.
Fuck. Sometimes I hate being right. I make ME mad.
As I sat on the bathroom floor the next morning still in the throes of it all, waiting to see if my body could actually produce more vomit, I began to see the pattern, or I became delusional, your call. I can admit to getting philosophical with no sleep on bathroom floors.
Oh…I’m finally getting how this works now. Clean the pipes (literally). One step (day) backward, before I lunge forward. Get rid of the accumulated gunk, so the energy can flow clearer and faster.
UGH.
I had a brief glimmer of insight, which, for a moment had me feeling better and then I was back to hurling. So much for knowing what’s going on—you still have to get through it.
Eventually it passed, just like it always does, and I was able to salvage the remainder of my Friday, and fit into my skinny jeans (yeah).
When I mentioned what happened to a couple of my friends, they told me that they too had been clearing up their gunk. Not necessarily in the same way as I had, but effective for them just the same, and we all agreed to chalk this week up as a sucking vortex of everything that could go wrong. In other words—a Universal shitastrophe.
One of them admitted to coming home feeling like a jacked-up pressure cooker; so he buried his face in a pillow and banchee-screamed—something he hasn’t done in decades. He was so hoarse afterwards he had a hard time speaking. But he felt much better.
Oh, that’s good. I like that. I’m gonna steal that one.
I’d be curious to know, what’s your process?
I for one, after all my…purging, feel cleaner (duh) clearer and lighter and I’m looking forward with great anticipation to the lunge forward. How about you?
Carry on,
xox
