Brief recap: I sold my house to pay off student debt, which was a good thing. Then, I wound up in an abusive relationship. I fled, went back, fled, went back, moved into a hoarder’s haven for 6 weeks, and then moved in with my sister. In total, I’ve moved 8 times since August, with a 9th one this week.
So then there’s the question- how did I not see this coming? Well, in some ways I did. In hindsight, there were certainly cards drawn that indicated problems. But, I didn’t want to see them. The relationship moved so fast.
The root cause of most of the trauma in my adult life has been tolerating terrible treatment by men. I have tolerated it because I wanted to be loved. We all have issues. Part of mine stem from emotional neglect in my younger years. In the past, I have attracted men who were distant, and who would breadcrumb me along, but were ultimately emotionally unavailable. So, when I found a man who was so quickly wanting to put a ring on my finger, I lost all sense of better judgement.
He didn’t start out being abusive. He started out sweeping me off my feet. He started out saying all the things that made me swoon. But little things crept in. He would keep lists of the nice things he did for me. He would use my past to hurt me, bringing up wounds I trusted him with as weapons. He was a strong believer in gender roles that women should do the cooking and cleaning. Things grew worse and worse. There were several times where he stood over me, yelling and pointing his finger, saying the most vile things, while I was in a heap of tears on the floor. He confined me three times against my consent, and once I even needed to call the police because he wouldn’t let me leave. He didn’t understand that I was a grown woman and allowed to leave whenever I pleased.
But I stayed for too long. I stayed because of love, because he promised me a house, because he’d guilt me with his ledger of good deeds, because I had nowhere else to go. Moving 8 times blew through the last of the house money and all my investments. I stayed because I was addicted. I have a file of emails of horrible things he’s said to me, just in case I miss the good times and need a reminder of what he was capable of when I didn’t conform to his fantasy wife. He still doesn’t believe that psychological abuse is a real thing, despite me spending hours upon hours talking to him about it and showing him the research. It’s not my job to teach him how to not abuse me.
And here’s why I don’t like using the word “psychic”. It comes with a lot of pressure. It comes with the assumption that I know everything. It comes with the assumption that I am a telepath. It comes with the assumption that I always make perfect decisions. It comes with the assumption that I must have a perfect life. I claim none of those things. Anyone who thinks otherwise has been watching too many Hollywood movies.
Reading tarot professionally does not make me immune to domestic violence. I am still very good at what I do.
I’m still human.