"Fuck that noise!” I hear Dr. Flo yell from the corner of my mind. I can feel her wrestling around in there, pounding fists in my chest, and then grasping, clutching at my throat. "I'm gonna say it loud and proud whether you like it or not," Flo utters between clenched teeth, “And I'm gonna say it with authority, damn it! " "I'm so tired of you keeping me locked up in this mother fuckin cage," Dr Flo resumes yelling as she gets to her feet and perches just right, balancing on the edge of my sternum as she knocks over the box of lavender-scented Epsom salt, the contents of which spray across the concrete floor.
With one swift movement, she manages to both rip the duct tape from across my mouth and grab the key I've had tucked (secretly I thought) into my waistband. “You can keep your shitty facade if you want," Flo taunts as she moves toward the lock on the cage door, key in hand, "But, as for me, I'm getting out!” I watch helplessly as she wrenches open the heavy steel door I worked so hard to build and keep tightly sealed. Dr Flo winks and blows me a kiss as I continue to stare wordlessly, mouth open agape, stomach in knots, certain now that I'm experiencing that powerlessness they always talk about in the rooms of recovery. Powerless over Dr Flo, god help me, I hang my head but can’t help but laugh at the irony.
We admitted we were powerless and that our lives have become unmanageable. By the Grace of my Higher Power, I've been able to accept this Step One of the Twelve Steps manifesto so many times about quite a few things - alcohol, my marriage, my parents, my well-being during 2020, even compulsivity about sex for heaven's sake! But powerless over Dr Flo! Shoot, now that’s going too far, asking too much. But here we are, folks, another turning point. With my newest pair of glasses, I can see that trying to exercise power over Flo - when the evidence in this moment clearly demonstrates that I have none - has been making my life unmanageable and will continue to make my life unmanageable if I don't recognize what is simply true - I can't! That bitch will just not be tamed. So let this serve as your cue to watch your back, my friends. Dr. Flo has escaped and is sure to be running her mouth as soon as she can find her way to the nearest available wifi. I apologize in advance for any missteps she makes, hearts she breaks, egos she bruises, and jaws she cracks.
Don't say I didn't warn you.
Sincerely,
Wrecked America Management
DR. FLO is a 52-year-old philosopher, and aspiring soul guardian. View Profile
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