Five years ago, if you’d told me I’d be reading tarot for a living, I would’ve laughed right in your face.
A lot can change in five years, five weeks, five minutes. Five years ago, for example, I didn’t know I was marrying a sociopathic, abusive narcissist who would have several affairs—that he would tell his many girlfriends that I was his ex wife while we were actively married, that he would break so many hearts, not just my own. I didn’t know a person could live double, triple, quadruple lives—that they could lie so much they started to believe their own fallacies.
I also didn’t know the demise of that marriage would wind up being my greatest teacher, my most precious gift. It hurt like hell, but damnit did I grow.
I didn’t know I would join a CrossFit gym purely as a means for connection, to ease my lonely bones. I didn’t know, while at that gym, I’d meet the most phenomenal coach I’d ever seen, or that he would ask to kiss me on a random day in December, when I thought I wasn’t “ready” to give love another chance.
I didn’t know that I’d be drawing an oracle deck, or that I’d be teaching womxn how to manifest their professional dreams into reality through my business mastermind.
Above all, I didn’t know I could be soft and strong all at once—that I could break open without falling apart, that boundaries would save me from my tendency to overextend myself in nurturing others. I had no idea where I was going, and I wound up here. I am a different version of me than I was five years ago and in five days I may be different still.
Looking back I realize all that’s transpired, all that’s transformed, couldn’t have been possible if I’d been attached to unmalleable stories about who I was and where I was going.
If I‘d decided I wasn’t good enough to be a professional tarot reader, wasn’t strong enough to end my abusive marriage, wasn’t talented enough to create an oracle deck, was too jaded to believe in love again…I may have allowed myself to stay stuck in all the places that sticking tends to happen.
Instead, I detached from stories written in stone and surrendered my soul to whatever the universe placed in my path. I didn’t do it consciously—I did it because what else are you supposed to do?
Cry? Complain? Curse the gods? YES AND. I did a lot of crying and cursing and screaming and doubting—and I also did a lot of searching. And trusting. And growing.
One foot in front of the other, one breath at a time, moment by excruciating moment until you find yourself at the top of that next hill, shoulders pulled back a bit more, chin a little higher, eyes red from tears but searching the horizon for the magic you know you’ll find.
Take a moment to honor the many versions of YOU over the past few years. How have you grown? What have you surmounted? Now look just over the horizon, into 2019…what do you see?
What version of yourself are you becoming?