Are y’all as freaked out as I am that it’s a new year? Every other year I wonder why New Years is a big deal, because we literally have a new year every 365 days. You will have many new years in your life. This isn’t news, or new. This year, however, I see the excitement. Because, seriously, where did 2013 go? Did it even exist? Was it existentially even here? I’m so confused. It was my Return of Saturn, easily the hardest year of my life, and it flew past me like a bat out of Hell, or a bat straight into the hell I was living in. On the sarcastically bright side, I’m still stuck in that Return of Saturn brouhaha for another year, because apparently the offset of it effects your 28th year too, so here’s to another year that flies by like it’s got places to be and people to pummel.
I’ve made a lot of changes in the last year. I found out I had PTSD because of something someone did to me. I sought treatment for it. I started standing up for myself and got rid of all the things and people that I didn’t really like. It sounds harsh, but we all have those friends that we’re only friends with because we feel obligated to be, or because they’re friends of friends, but we don’t really like them and they’re problem causers. I’ve learned who my real friends are and who will exclude me from things in a hot second to avoid an issue someone else caused, but I got blamed for.
I got rid of the men in my life that were problematic, and I don’t say yes to dates anymore just because I want to give someone a chance. I’m a fairly intelligent woman. I can tell from a conversation or two if we would make a good match or want the same things. There’s no use giving anyone a chance if you just simply aren’t compatible, no matter how nice they are. Last year, I shed all the those parts of my personality and all the things that didn’t make me happy.
This year I decided to start fresh. I took all the things I’ve held onto from a past relationship and I burned them. I kept them safe in an album, because I like to look back on my past and think of it fondly. But the truth is, they’re just things. They mean nothing to me anymore, and the person they’re attached to treated me in a way that has forced them into the shadows. He means less than nothing to me. Why keep things from a relationship like that? Why remember a toxic person? It’s not worth it. It also keeps you from moving on, even if you mentally have. Emotionally keeping those things sticks you in one place, and I don’t want to be stuck in one place, because I have so many places I want to go and so many things I want to do. I’m worth so much more than one person’s words.
I decided to do the things that I actually want to do, instead of the things I feel like I should do with people I don’t even like all that much. I want to finish my novel. I found out I have quite a following on a story I started and posted online, but never finished. Who knows, maybe that is meant to be my first great novel, and not the one I’m currently working on. I want to blog more, because writing is my life and I miss it. I miss finding me and being me.
So far, this year has been tough. My health problems have wreaked havoc on my teeth and I need a ton of work done and have no dental insurance. My car passed away in a tragic turn of old age and I had to get another one a few months ago, so now I have an unexpected car payment. I’m on a set income and I’m finding that because of the car payment and the upcoming dental work, I don’t actually have money for things I need. This is the first time this has ever happened to me, so I’m now in a position where I’m forced to make a lot of decisions I don’t want to make very quickly. Maybe it will be the end of having a cell phone, but I can live without it. What I worry I can’t live without is the continued treatment for my PTSD, but that likely has to go too. I have to pick and chose, and sometimes things you need turn into things you can take as life lessons and a challenge you can step up to. We will see if I can rise to the occasion.
Another thing I’ve decided to devote more time to is my work in the paranormal. At any given time I am six months behind on cases. I’ve unfortunately made the decision to charge for cases. I’ve done this professionally at my own expense for twelve years. I’ve lost money helping other people, and I can’t do it anymore. I’m often behind because I don’t have the extra money for gas to go to someone’s house repeatedly. For years I’ve been told to charge something, even to just cover gas, and that’s what I’m going to start doing. The tough decisions are here and when push comes to shove, I have to shove. If I could be a full time psychic medium, I would do it in a heartbeat. It’s what I’m good at. I don’t ask the dead to come to me, but they do. I always use resources, such as historical documents, to back my findings after the fact. I’ve never been wrong, and I encourage people to check in to what I see and find and tell them. If I’m wrong, I’m not ashamed. I want proof. I want to know if what I find is real. I always go in with no information of the hauntings or the location, and I tell it like I see it. Nothing more, nothing less.
I had an unusual paranormal experience today while not working a case. My mom had asked me to go with her to a client’s house to make sure she didn’t fall and die while on the ladder getting the curtains down to wash. I had been to the house before and never noticed anything odd about it. I was walking through the house, and once I got into the kitchen I blacked out for a second and had a flash of something go through my mind. I stopped to get my bearings, a little disoriented and confused. When I started to comprehend my surroundings again, my spirit guide and best friend dead girl Sarah was standing next to me asking me if I was okay. I had no good way to answer that.
From that point on, the whole house felt like a fun house. I was constantly fighting to remind myself where I was, because I kept going back into flashes of things and feeling like someone was trying to take me over. It was very overwhelming and only got worse in the upstairs of the house. I pinpointed the room where the feeling was the worst, but I didn’t see anything, which concerned me. There had been two people who had passed away in this house, but whatever was going on felt like either a ton of dead people at once or one really unfriendly one posing as something nice when it wasn’t.
As I walked down the hallway toward the staircase, gathering curtains and hoping to exit the house soon, something pushed me. Everything went black for a moment. I caught my balance before I reached the staircase, but only inches away. Whatever pushed me wasn’t my size. It was small. Though the hands were distinctly on my shoulder blades, they were tiny and pushed me in an upward motion, as if they were short and reaching upward to push me. Had an adult pushed me, the push would have also been a lot harder. I only weigh 108 pounds, and an adult would have had no trouble pushing me down those stairs. Whatever it was seems to be posing as a child that is too cowardly to show itself to me in fear that I will know what it really is.
We have to go back to the house tomorrow to put the curtains back up. I’m not looking forward to it, but at least this time I will go prepared.
If you’re looking for something to listen to in your spare time, I’m hooked on the one song that describes the last twenty months of my life that I burned last night. Goodbye, 2013. It would be a lie to say I’m going to miss you.