Bowl or dish?

PPD was trying to kill me; and Brian Regan made fun of my future self.

"I’m sorry that it's his 40th birthday Emily. Can you come now and he can hate me later? I’m as dark as I’ve ever been, and you know that’s sayin’ something."

It was 2 weeks after 56 hours of labor as I walked to yet another expensive acupuncture session meant to poke holes in my depression. There was a tiny baby strapped to my front, both of us under hats to protect us from the April LA sun.

Postpartum depression is so brutal, but no one really believes you. Remember Holly Hunter in the film The Piano with her taut and intense hairdo so hard and her skirts so billowing, attached to that piano of pain, and sinking down so fast? Like that.

But then, Emily.

Her bright face appeared at the airport, like Easter morning, blooming from the jetway, the light before and after her.

My best friend from high school, maid of honor, the favorite one. She traveled 3,000 miles and her husband who was missing a wife for a key birthday probably hated me, but it had to be ok. She was like that orange ring from the back of the boat, a life-saving device whipped into the sea of my sinking. I just pushed that baby toward the light, hoping he would float and wishing I could make music.

All day I was a stationary milkmaid with a tiny parasite feeding off of my flesh and she and the husband were moving persons who prepared food to shove into my face to keep the feeding cycle going. And during this circle of life, we watched stand-up.

It helped. As I swam from the depth of the postpartum depression with the seaweed streaming behind me, my bestie swam alongside me showing me the views; and it was lit by the jewels of her laugh. Her giggle is a sound I've loved more than any other thing that ever was, my laugh had become a foreign sound, clunky and awkward but both rang out thanks to the always-playing comedy channel.

Somewhere in the middle of one of those long nights with a soundtrack of newborn cries, we found this comedian who I’d never seen before, Brian Regan.

He is a master of the craft. Goofy and smart, a special brand of perfect, and my bestie runs that same combo. I felt myself starting to dry out. I was emerging from the depths and murk, thankful for people who write and perform about dark in the light.

My favorite bit in the comedy special was when he talked about pet psychics.

“How do I get into this racket? Something about a bone? 
Does he have a bowl or dish?” 

I’d never laughed harder. (link to bit below).

So 10 years later, in 2019, when a dead dog talked to me in the middle of a reading, I was dashed back to that milky past. I felt bad but I laughed uproariously right in the middle of her reading, just wondering how on earth I could take myself seriously and tell this woman about what her dog had to say. But. He was small and smart and I asked her.

“Do you want to hear from a dog?”
“Yes!”, she nodded earnestly.

I saw his little sweet face peering at me.
I said, “Tall ears?”
She nodded, yes.
“Gray and white body?”
“Yes.” 
“Short?”
“Yes.”

Now I’m laughing and snorting and I can't stop. I said,

“There are two bowls, right? Two next to each other and they are on a placemat thing.”
Yes, she nodded, her head tilted at my guffawing but she appreciated the precision.

'Something about a bowl or dish'. 

I didn't say that last bit to her, but it was loud in my mind.
My laughter finally subsided because he showed me her whole house, room by room. This is what I now understand to be called 'remote viewing' - so what I was seeing was his point of view - I was low to the ground on a jog with her dog.

The breathlessness that follows was how he talked to me;

He described the house and how he loved the bed especially and how her partner didn’t live with her but she came over some days and not others and his favorite place was her bed but the walk they did every day was only 4 blocks in a square and he loved that walk and he was so happy to talk to her and he wanted her to know that he was really ok and she knew that but that he wanted her to be ok and that maybe her partner should move in full time now, dontyouthink? Now that he wasn’t taking up so much of the bed?

She loved hearing from her pup more than the humans I’d brought through before him. Kinda makes sense though, doesn’t it? Our pets are some of the best people.

What’s the old saying? Comedy = tragedy + time. I’ll always be grateful to Brian Regan for making fun of my future self; he wasn’t wrong about it….but the pup and I had the last laugh.

WATCH: Brian Regan - Pet Psychic - the pet part of the clip starts at 2:30 😆