Let’s back this thing up.

Over Christmas, you may recall, I found myself vomiting and suffering in the absolute extreme. I thought maybe it was a flu? Or a fluke. One of the two. It wasn’t the first time in my 32-year existence that I’ve been majorly ill on a major Christian holiday, but it certainly wasn’t a regular occurrence…

…but it might be! This past Easter. Same deal. Starts as a piercing headache, next thing you know, I’m throwing up everything. I mean EVERYTHING! I took 6 Ibuprofen and a Pepto Bismol in the span of an hour, because every time something went down my throat, it came back up again. Much as the Christ is said to have risen on the Third Day, my breakfast and every medicine I tried taking rose back up my gullet about 20 minutes later.

First, I blamed the issue on the Catholic mass I attended. Frankincense always gives me a headache, and when I have a headache, I need to throw up to feel better. Don’t ask me to explain it, that’s just the way it works!

So here we are. The past 2 major Christian holidays, I’ve wound up puking my guts up. Does this mean that the threats my mom used to issue as a child, whenever I acted up and then wound up hurting myself, were all based in truth?? “God is punishing you!” she’d taunt, sing-songingly. I never really worried about it before, but now it kind of makes sense! I didn’t cross myself during grace, so now I’m tucking my hair into the collar of my shirt so I don’t get vomit in it. Damn it!

I mean… don’t damn it. Don’t damn anything. Are you there, God? It’s me, Meghan. And I’d very much like to not hurl, thanks.