Note: This is not really a post. It is me working things out in my head. Past events that led to an internal failure and repeated external failures that I need to resolve. Feel free to read and take what you can.
I recently had a virtual psychic reading. I want to say it went well. And it did, I think. I certainly hope he wasn’t selling me a song, because the story he told of my future was very much to my liking. In fact, it is everything I want! I just hope he was getting the correct info and not picking up on what I would like to manifest. This psychic also got several things right about me including my thinking it’s too late to find love, my absolute distaste for all things dating apps (i mean just NO), a couple of my relatives that have passed and the manner in which they died, the fact that I have a hard time finding and keeping friends who don’t use me as a free therapist (apparently I am a healer?) and last, but certainly not least, my own psychic and mediumship abilities, which he says are entering a time of growth.
Something else he hit on was something so right in front of my face I can’t believe I never saw it. It was one quick comment that rocked my world in this reading and I probably should have directed some questions to it at the end, but it’s been a few weeks and I am just now allowing myself to start processing it. He said (in not exactly the same words) something happened in 2017 and whatever that was, that is why you have so much fear, anxiety and dread around your future. He went on to say that I am going to be fine. My finances are going to be fine. That it will all be cleaned up within five years. And then there’s that song he sold me that says I am going to be way more than fine, way more than happy and way more than in love. Damn, I hope it is true, but so much of what he told me about my present was 100% on point.
Okay, back to the year two thousand seventeen. I was living in Florida. I had a great roommate who owned two of the most adorable dogs you’d ever see. We lived in a nice house, in a nice neighborhood that sat in-between the St. John’s River and the Intracoastal waterway. The closest beach was literally a ten minute drive away. I was working for a university and enjoying the academic setting, but not my paycheck. I had taken a very low level job to try to get into this field. I like helping people, I like working with students and to be honest, if I could be a life long student, I would be. Seriously, I’d have degrees in almost everything, starting with the natural, life and social sciences.
Okay, back to the year two thousand seventeen. It was the year I became homeless and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. What had happened was…the house I was living in was being sold and my roommate was moving up the coast. I looked for a new place, but my budget was not on par with the market. I came to this job with a load of debt after an abrupt layoff at another company where I was making less than zilch. I couldn’t find a roommate or a place to land. At the last minute, a friend offered up her place and I accepted. The caveat was that it wasn’t her place. It was her fiancé’s home that she had just moved into. She said he was glad for the extra money so close to the wedding and honey moon, but I never really felt welcome in his home. He was never mean or rude to me, but I just felt like I was intruding. How could I not be? I stayed there through their wedding and honey moon and ended up leaving shortly after. Another friend approached me about her friend who needed a roommate. I met her, we talked, came to an agreement and I moved in and three days later I moved right back out. I was kicked out for absolutely no reason. I didn’t have a contract so I had to leave. I literally had to pack everything up and go where? I didn’t know. I ended up living the next few months with half of my stuff in my car and half of my stuff scattered among some friend’s garages. I stayed in someone else’s room and had to maneuver around another relationship, but this one was not so kosher. I eventually gave up and decided to quit my job and move back to the one place I had said I would never move back to: Memphis.
So while I was never on the street, I also never really had a place to call home. All of my belongings were in boxes in people’s garages and I was tiptoeing around houses and trying not to disturb the couples in them. Before this happened, I was always one to think that everything always works out for the best, but what was the best in having all my carpets repeatedly ripped out from underneath me? I still do not have an answer, but I do have a lot of fear, anxiety and dread. I’ve been laid off multiple times and I might have another one looming in the next few weeks, if not the next few months. Every job I have chosen since I left Los Angeles has ended in a lay off! And I have had a hard time finding decent work after every single lay off. The only difference is that I have been living with a relative for the past few layoffs, but I can’t keep staying here. I do admit, that I am horrified to be back out on my own. I am horrified for my future. I have even come up with a suicide plan for when the day comes that I am too old to work and have no way to earn money to care for myself. It’s funny that I was never afraid until the layoffs started happening. And the nail that destroyed my balloon was becoming homeless twice in the span of a week. I don’t know why I never connected the two. I also don’t know why everything has been a dead end since I left LA. I don’t have any desire to move back to that part of the country. Maybe I was supposed to stay in the media world? Maybe I was supposed to move into the nonprofit sector like I was trying to do in LA before I left? I have no idea. This is something I am going to have to really chew on especially, with another potential layoff looming in the near future. I need to figure out why the layoffs keep happening and what the lesson is so I can learn it and get my life back on a track? Right now, I’m not even on a trail. I’m in a boulder field and while I love some adventure, I prefer to leave it for my weekend explorations and not my actual life. Interestingly enough, the psychic did say that I was moving into a phase of rebuilding my life and that starts when the clock strikes midnight on New Year’s Eve.
P.S. Interested in the psychic? Email me.