Rethinking Freud

Last week I showed up to one session of psycho-analysis, and then decided to dump the idea. That's not what I need right now. What I need right now is to emigrate. And grieve. In view of that whole 'grieving' thing, we get to meet his parents this afternoon and I'm dreading it, dreading it to the point where I am really having to rethink Freud and his ideas of the stages of human development, especially in tandem with my decision to drop Jungian analysis, and in tandem with certain revelations about a certain member of my extended family, who is a very active poo-retainer.

That's right. This person will go for a week or more without taking a shit, complaining more and more about their physical infirmity (ie, their inability to take a shit) and all the while steadfastly refuse to drink more water; eat vegetables, fruit, whole-grain breads or cereals, or yoghurt; forebore from eating cream - steadfastly refuse, in essence, to do anything that might help them take a shit, until whatever fucked-up psychological point that needs to be made with this person's immediate family is made, at which point this person takes a laxative and soon thereafter a massive fucking sasquatch dump. And then the whole beautiful cycle, which has been going on for decades, begins again.

What does this have to do with the present situation, you ask. First, I've realized that the term anal-expulsive nails me down as stunningly accurately as Sagittarian (and with probably about as flakily), and second, this morning, the fully-fledged thought crossed my mind: "I can shit myself this afternoon just before his parents get there and then I will have to go home, and not have to meet them." And it was one of those thoughts you actually have to think about, to weight the pros and cons of, like in that Margaret Cho bit about being really drunk and considering whether or not you should get out of bed to pee.

Anyways, it's a stupid idea. I never shit in the afternoon.

But fuck, do I ever, ever not want to do this.