Burning the Book

On May 21, my friend Lisa gave me a voodoo doll kit. It came complete with instructions on how to use it.

Of course, it was strictly for safe anger management, but if there’s someone out there who felt sudden stinging pain in the lower left abdominal quadrant, or thought perhaps he had a strangulated hernia because of excructiating testicular pain - nope. That was me and my pins. Same goes for that sudden headache, and rest assured that you do not have hemorrhoids - although justice would be well served if you did - BIG ones, that require surgical removal, and a donut cushion two years post surgery.

Happily, I don’t have use for the voodoo doll anymore, but was struck by my friend’s thoughtfulness and wisdom.

“This,” she told me as she handed me the package, “is just until you realize he was a world class ass, and that you deserve better. And for God’s sake, don’t feel guilty about being angry. You have every right to feel angry. And even if he shot you that line about everybody deserves to be happy, the man doesn’t have a pot to piss in. If he’s happy, it’s because he has a roof over his head, and a woman to support him. He’s a self-involved narcissistic leech. You don’t need that.”

A seeress, indeed, that woman is. But as I said…I no longer have use for pins and dolls. And I really have let go of the anger (or I have now that I have confessed my voodoo doll capers) because I don’t want that mess tagging along on a new life that will begin at 2:00 on July 31 2005.

I did deserve better. And I got it.

Chapter closed, book burned.