Sometimes, after a really intense cleansing ritual, you feel like your soul just took a shit.* Sometimes, you feel like your soul has had food poisoning for the better part of a week, and is mostly better, but weak and empty, and oh-my-fuck-just-the-smell-of-those-onion-rings-is-gonna-make-me-barf-right-here-right-now.
And everything hurts. Everything. And all you want is to lay down in the dark with a soft pillow and not give any fucks at all. Maybe take a nice, long, warm bath with soothing oils and just let everything soak back in.
But you didn’t ask for the 1st off from work, because you thought you were some kind of a badass. So you’re straggling into work three hours late looking like hell, grateful beyond belief that you decided months ago to always keep a toothbrush in your car, smelling probably of woodsmoke and dragon’s blood, but no one’s got cultural narrative for that. You probably just look like another Halloween party casualty.
It’s not like you can gather your coworkers around and compare notes. It’s not like anyone here wants to hear that your body feels physically different, that last night might have been the most intense work you’ve ever done, or that your new rule is at least one hour of recovery for every hour of prep that goes into a ritual. (By that math, you’d be sleeping long past noon.)
It’s not like you’re going to say, “I am not hungover from drinking. I am feeling the after effects of some serious visionary work and ritual suicide. Murder. Exorcism. There really isn’t a word. The absinthe is not (much) to blame.”
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* Direct quote/paraphrase from one of the participants last night.
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* Direct quote/paraphrase from one of the participants last night.
