Her name is Chrissy and she is part funny, part takes no shit from anyone and part sees dead people.
I started following her on Instagram months ago after a mutual friend of ours posted a picture of them having brunch together. I clicked on her name, saw she was a local psychic and I immediately became a fan. But I couldn’t pull the trigger and book an appointment with her right away. I had to feel it. Wait for the right moment. And that right moment came when I knew I had an issue with alcohol. Would my dead parents bring it up? Would they yell at me? Would they feel sorry for me? (After all, drinking problems run on both sides) Or would they even give a shit? I mean, come on, they’re partying it up somewhere else caring less that our current president is a shithole (and the biggest inducer of my anxiety. Thanks, Trump. Fuck you.) So maybe I was looking for guidance from them. But I also didn’t necessarily need to hear from them. Anyone who wanted to come through was welcomed.
The first thing she started talking about was my relationship with D. (I just chuckled at that sentence.) He was the right choice for me and he LOVES me. He finds me beautiful, even when I think I’m not. He appreciates my body, especially after having babies. He’s never cheated on me and never will – but not to say he doesn’t think of other women – he is male after all. And that I need to let my anxiety stop trying to find issues with him in order to protect myself.
And then she leapt into the world of anxiety and depression.
It was as if she had lived with me for the past nine months; she told me that I have postpartum depression and that my body doesn’t respond well to my hormones after birth, and that I had actually had it with Mr. Man but it wasn’t as severe as with Tootsie. She asked if I was on meds and I told her I was on an antidepressant and she told me right away that my body trusts it (which it does) but needs to be layered with something to help my anxiety and don’t let my doctor prescribe Wellbutrin. Holy shit! D and I had been talking about me making an appointment later this week to get me into see someone about my anxiety. I need meds, stat.
She touched on Mr. Man and Tootsie; he will push boundaries only to know he’s loved, she will be too trusting and needs to have the stranger danger talk. A lot. My maternal grandmother (whom Tootsie got her middle name from) is tickled pink with her and is her guardian angel. My grandma is also pleased with the domestic route that I’ve taken. No surprise there. That my paternal grandfather, who was a mean son of a bitch is my guardian angel. Great. She was able to tell me that he was an abusive alcoholic (see, told you) and liked farming. Gee, how did I get such a fun guardian angel?!
My dad came through with the message that he was terrified of having a female version of himself and when I turned out to be very strong and independent he freaked the fuck out and would try to deter me from doing certain things because of his abusive upbringing and what his parents did to him. But he loved me more than anything in this world. This was all true.
My mom wasn’t connecting very well. But was able to show Chrissy her sarcastic and judgmental side. Nailed it. Brought up something about sleep training the baby, which she always told me to do with Mr. Man but he still sleeps with D. She must be spinning.
And a cat came through. Good old Honey. We found his ashes while we were cleaning out my parents house and I spread them on top of my parents graves. Weird as fuck but I know they’d have liked it. Also, because another psychic told me to do so.
She said that I have a strong personality and those that get it and appreciate it quickly become my friends. Those that don’t, mock me (I’m looking at you middle school/high school bullies). And right now, my “voice” has quieted and that’s very much not like myself. She saw that I loved writing and writing would help bring a capital identity to myself, it would be therapeutic, it should be MY thing. Those that read what I write are meant to read it at that time in their lives for a reason.
Hence, this blog was born. I’m so inspired that I could help someone. It seriously gives me goosebumps.
After my reading with Chrissy, I immediately felt inspired, lighter, with purpose, like I could do this.
This has been quite a year for myself and my family. From birth to death, depression and anxiety and sobering up. I’m holding it together, in Tucson.