Everybody plays the fool.

I’m going to get a Tarot card and palm reading next week and I have to admit that I’m feeling a little apprehensive about it. As much as I’d like to know what the future has in store for me, I’m also okay with not seeing a Death Card any time soon, or hearing that my lifeline is shorter than Peter Dinklage. I’ve never done either of these things before because I’ve always pretty much lived in constant fear of getting bad news.

My heart will sometimes still skip a beat when my phone rings, which explains why I prefer texting. Strike that. I’ve gotten some pretty crappy texts too. This all goes back to a particularly rough period a few years ago when things seemed to be falling apart with my family. I was in a bad way, and if it wasn’t for my friends, I don’t know how I would’ve survived.

Come to think of it, this goes back even further than that to when I was four years old and things (holy déjà vu) seemed to be falling apart with my family. Cops busted into our house and arrested my father, and all I remember is that in both cases, I had nothing to hold on to.

Which is really what’s driving this whole spiritual quest thing for me – the fundamental need to know that everything is going to be all right and to somehow feel connected. I didn’t realize just how much Zach and I were incredibly alike until I wrote the paragraph above this one. “It’s kinda nice knowing you have something to hold on to when times are shitty,” he said, you may recall, when I asked him if he believed in God.

The good news is: I’m no longer scared of getting bad news. I’m not sure when the fear monster abated or if it’s a sign of maturity or if the meds finally kicked in, but these days I feel that I can deal with whatever comes my way. And God – if you’re listening – this should in no way be interpreted as a challenge.