The feeling of having massively regressed hit me like a brick.
I don’t know if it was Elizabeth’s unbridled emotion or my lacking energy channels, but I lay there immobilized as tears started streaming down both sides of my face, hitting my ears, pooling onto the table. Then I was laughing but still crying. By the time Dr. Jane knocked lightly, some of the needles had fallen out.
She moved methodically around the table without making eye contact, carefully removing the rest. When she took out the last needle, she patted my forearm. “Most new patients become emotional during their first session. Finish getting dressed and we’ll conclude the appointment.”
I sat up weakly and blew my nose, catching my swollen reflection in a small side mirror next to a window AC unit. My stomach hurt from laughing. I flexed my wrist. It felt slightly better.
Dr. Jane came back and motioned for me to sit in the chair opposite her. She typed a few notes as I reached for another tissue. She swiveled the iPad toward me, showing a chart of my meridians.
“There’s an imbalance in your liver qi. For women, it’s one of the most important things to pay attention to. Responsible for the smooth flow of energy and emotions.” She swiveled the iPad back toward her. “Do you often feel irritable or stressed?”
“I have a stressful job.”
“Most people in New York have stressful jobs. My advice is to improve it with diet and nutrition. I’ll send you home with some herbs that will help, but you should also reassess your nutrition and alcohol intake.” She grabbed a folder from the shelf next to her. “Here’s a handout of things to avoid.”
She circledalcohol. “Try cutting back for a few weeks. I promise you’ll see a difference.”
I nodded, feeling embarrassed. “And for my wrist—how often should I come back?”
“Once a week should be fine for now. We can reevaluate in a few weeks.”
I had an hour to kill before meeting Emilie and Connor on Twenty-First Street for the guided meditation Emilie wanted to try because she was trying to be “mindful” about her breakup. I felt emotionally hungover from acupuncture.
I arrived at the studio fifteen minutes early. I felt a muscular arm loop around my waist as I signed in.
“Early bird,” Connor sang in my ear. I squeezed his forearm, relieved to see a familiar face.
“How’s the patient?” he asked.
“Acupuncture isn’t for the faint of heart.”
“Dope.”
“You should try it sometime. It really opens you up.” I tapped my temple. “Here.”
“The floodgates are already open.”
I hung my coat and unzipped my hoodie.
“Do people wear workout clothes for this?” I asked.
He shrugged. “It’s just a mind workout, love.”
I staked out a cushion directly behind Emilie. A loudgongsignaled the start, and the instructor’s voice filled the dome-shaped room.
I tried my best to emulate cleansing breaths, but every time I closed my eyes, my mind was a turbulent montage of fragmented memories. Our favorite neighborhood restaurant in DC. Telling Ben I wanted a divorce. Moving out of our house. Leo telling me he was leaving his wife. Charlie accusing me of being morally adrift. Emilie calling our friendship one sided.
I fidgeted with a button on the cushion. My eyes kept opening no matter how tightly I shut them. Everyone looked like they’d found momentary inner peace. Even Connor was completely still.
“Wasn’t that fantastic?” Emilie asked as we walked outside.
“Mind numbing, in the most zen way,” Connor said.
There was only one right answer. “Great call, Em.”
She smiled proudly. “So we can make this a Saturday thing?”
“Like, every Saturday?” Connor sounded panicked.
