Thursday, January 12, 2012

insanity lines

Turns out, I like to torture myself. I know, we already knew that, but it is frustrating and exhausting, nevertheless. Things between Smokey and I have been nearly perfect for about a week, which is saying something considering how the past several weeks before them had been. He’d been really affectionate, going out of his way to show me how proud he is of the work I’ve done in order to get published, making sure I know how much he loves me and wants me. I’ve been working on suppressing my neediness and using logic and breathing and praying and eating and working out and whatever it takes to work through it. We have an awesome, long weekend at Valley View this weekend, and I couldn’t be more excited. So, what do I do last night when I go to dinner with two of my best friends? When one of them says he’s been studying palmistry, both of us stick out our hands. Even as I did so, part of me said, ‘Don’t do it! You don’t even believe in it, but you’ll believe it enough to fuck you up.” It sucks to be so smart that I could see the future and so stupid that I didn’t stop the moment in order to change it. My friends hand was read: long life, something jobbish, a short but deep romance and then the love of his life, and he could never cheat. The problem? He already has cheated, something was off with that reading.
Then it was my turn. Looking at the mid line across my hand. Gonna have health problems around forty, then again around fifty, then die around sixty. “Wait a minute? Wasn’t that line the career line on [other friend’s] hand?”
“Oh, yeah. Opps.” Looks like you’re gonna have a couple career changes and retire early.”
Life line (the right one this time): Gonna live somewhere between mid-eighties and one hundred. I guess that’s good. And wrinkly.
Love/relationship line: I love extremely deep. Impossible for me to cheat. Gonna have a few different loves, all who I love deeply, all who are brief and leave, continuing late into my life. There it was, worst fear spelled out in the palm of my left hand.
My heart sank, I nearly started to cry. It’s been a heavy weight ever since.
When it took longer for Smokey to contact me after his overnight (even after he texted last night to let me know his phone died), I nearly hyperventilated until I heard from him. Ridiculous!!! Exhausting!!! Pathetic!!! All because of a palm reading by a friend who says he really doesn’t know what he’s doing, who messed up on our friend’s past cheating, who mistook my career line for my life line and killed me a couple decades early. True, I come by this worry naturally, but things that seem to confirm it, well…..
I drive myself crazy. I just want to rest in what is so very wonderful. Want to do the work when I have to or need to. Then rest in it once more.
Say some prayers for Smokey: he needs to have strength, patience, and a lotta love to deal with this nutcase.
On a side note, I have an email to a preferred therapist that may be out of my insurances’ district. Please hurry up, better mental health!

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