My Third Law of Emotion
I have a date … a date with someone who I have never met, but will determine my future. Not a soothsayer, psychic, or fortune teller, but one whose ruling I have to abide by and accept the consequences.
Now I’m not above seeing a psychic, and the last time I did I was in my twenties after my boyfriend died in a tragic car accident and my dad died after battling an aggressive form of cancer. I was lost during that time, everything was out of control, so a friend suggested I see a tarot card reader. I think she thought this would give me an opportunity to see the good the future could hold.
With some hesitation I made the appointment and did go see her. Someone who knew nothing about me was going to tell me everything I needed to know to make my present more bearable. As a skeptic and natural contrarian, I didn’t reveal all that I was going through, wanting her to prove her abilities, for her to look into her crystal ball and know all about me. Throughout the reading (minus the crystal ball), I could not control my emotions. Every time she mentioned my relationships with men, my dad, dating, etc., I would begin to cry. She was obviously feeding off my uncontrolled responses and went on to make her final evaluation, more about my past than my future. My tears and cards revealed to her that in my past lives I was always the concubine, the one that men looked past, the woman who never reached the status of wife. What my past “mes” had always wanted life after life was to be a wife. None of that made sense to me, I was never the little girl dreaming of the day I would wear a white dress and walk down the aisle. When I finished my first year in college, my roommate’s mom was sincerely concerned that I hadn’t found a future husband like her daughter had.
In the dark room of the psychic’s house, all I could think was that my dad was dead, my boyfriend was dead, and why couldn’t she see that, instead of interpreting my sadness revolving around men as a yearning to be married. When the hour was done, I ran into the sunlight, out of the reading, eyes wet and swollen, forgetting to pay for her time. That seems like a lifetime ago.
In the present, I have held the status beyond concubine for the last 14 years, and this week the title all my past lives wanted, will be dissolved by someone who knows nothing about the present me or my most recent past, but will be tasked with making decisions dictating my future. I may cry at the loss or my inability to control what happens, but I hope I don’t repeat myself in running out of the building in tears without leaving a payment, that may lead to a warrant for my arrest, and one black robe in my future is more than I can take.
Yes, the debate has already begun, should Christmas be celebrated before Thanksgiving, or does the turkey deserve its due? If you are a defender of the cornucopia, I’m here to tell you, that argument is so 2016. Move over mashed potatoes, it’s time for the jack-o-lantern to scare away those jolly elves who want their lighted tree to shine in … October?
I am all for celebrating any and all holidays, and if you have a party, I’m there. But, Thanksgiving lovers caught in a tryptophan daze just lost the fight with Christmas, and the sleigh bells have moved on to a new target to conquer, Halloween.
I’m sure the Boo Day purists will find it offensive walking into a Home Depot right now, only to find their inflatable Grim Reapers replaced by red-nosed reindeers. Don’t let what happened to the turkey happen to the ghost, instead of battling with old St. Nick for your day, take over a holiday you can dwarf. Maybe, Labor Day or any one of the 30+ holidays in August can be your focus. I might want to stay away from Independence Day, that one might blow-up in your face.
Decorate if you want to decorate, dress up if you want to dress up, celebrate Valentine’s Day or Mother’s Day months in advance, I’m okay with that.
And on this day of ghost and ghouls, Merry Christmas!
I feel a little bit robbed.
I apparently have an abnormality, which I was not made aware of until recently. I possess something so large, I was told to hide my monstrosity, before anyone of importance could see it. Why wasn’t I alerted to this previously? I have lived day in and day out for years without even thinking about it, but apparently it is so severe, it has interfered with my work. And now that it has been pointed out to me, my obsession over it is repeatedly hitting me head on.
Maybe I should consider it the opposite of an obstacle, maybe an endowment … it’s said that bigger is better. Right? What I feel like is the better part of a fool, one who so unknowingly and prominently has been displaying this freak of nature, like it was a natural occurrence.
My ignorance of this anomaly I have, has been taken from me and I want it back.
So, if you catch me staring at your forehead, forgive me, I’m not judging you, I’m judging me.