Man, sometimes you just get stuck, right? Like you’re spinning your wheels, hitting the same old wall again and again. That’s exactly where I was a few months back. I had this nagging feeling, this pattern of messing things up in my relationships, always feeling like I wasn’t good enough, or that people would eventually leave. It was exhausting, and frankly, I was sick of it.
I’ve always been a bit open to things, you know, not totally woo-woo but willing to explore. A friend, who’s way more into this stuff than me, casually mentioned a past life tarot reading. At first, I was like, “Nah, that’s too out there.” But then, the idea just kept poking at me. What if there was something more to it? What if those repeating patterns weren’t just me being dumb, but something deeper, something from way back?
So, I started looking around. Didn’t want some glossy, influencer type. I wanted someone real. I spent a good few evenings scrolling through different sites, reading reviews, watching some weird videos. Most of them felt a bit like a sales pitch. Then I stumbled on this one lady’s profile. Her name was Maria. Her picture was just her, no fancy lights, just a warm smile and eyes that looked like they’d seen a lot. Her reviews weren’t all flowery; people just said she was “no-nonsense” and “got straight to it.” That sounded perfect.
I booked a session with her. It was over a video call, which was actually pretty convenient. I set up my laptop in a quiet corner of my apartment, lit a cheap candle to get into the mood, even though I was still half-skeptical. When Maria popped up on screen, she just gave a small nod. She wasn’t asking a million questions, just told me to think about what I wanted to uncover. I told her about these cycles, these feelings of not being enough, of always expecting to be abandoned.
She had this old, worn deck of tarot cards. They looked like they’d been used a million times. She didn’t shuffle them fast or dramatically. It was slow, deliberate, almost like she was talking to the cards. Then she started laying them out. Three rows, seven cards each. No big speeches, just soft murmurs as she turned each one over. She paused, really looked at them, and then started talking.
The First Glimmer: The Lone Wolf
The first set of cards, she said, showed a life where I was a very solitary figure, like a hunter or a protector in a desolate land. Always self-sufficient, always relying only on myself. The lesson there, she explained, was about trust. I learned to trust no one but myself because relying on others meant weakness or betrayal. That really hit me. I’ve always been fiercely independent, sometimes to my own detriment, pushing people away even when I wanted them close.
The Second Act: The Burden of Loyalty
Then she moved to the next row. This one was heavy. She saw me as someone in a position of power, maybe a leader or a landowner, in a time of great upheaval. I was incredibly loyal to my people, or my family, and I carried immense burdens for them. But that loyalty, that sense of responsibility, eventually crushed me. I burned out, totally exhausted, feeling like I’d failed everyone despite giving everything. She said that explained my tendency to take on too much, to feel responsible for everyone else’s happiness, and then resent it later. It was like a lightbulb went off in my head, totally explaining why I always feel drained after trying to fix everyone’s problems.
The Final Scene: The Voice Unheard
The last row really threw me. She saw a life where I had a powerful voice, literally. Like a singer or a storyteller. But I was silenced. Maybe censored, or literally prevented from speaking my truth. The cards showed a huge sense of frustration and bitterness. She said this was where my fear of speaking up came from, my hesitation to share my opinions, always worrying about being judged or rejected. My whole life, I’ve struggled with public speaking, even just speaking my mind in a group. It felt like I finally understood why it was so hard for me.
When she finished, she just sat there quietly, letting me take it all in. It wasn’t some grand pronouncement. It was more like she was painting a picture, and suddenly, all these scattered pieces of my own life started falling into place. It wasn’t about me being those people in those lives, but about the imprints, the lessons, the unresolved stuff that carried over.
I walked away from that call feeling weirdly lighter, yet also a bit stunned. It wasn’t an instant fix, you know? It didn’t magically make me trust people overnight or suddenly make me a confident public speaker. But it gave me a story. It gave me a narrative for those deep-seated feelings and patterns that always felt so random and frustrating.
Now, when I find myself pulling back, or taking on too much, or biting my tongue, I can sometimes catch myself. I can think, “Ah, is this that old ‘lone wolf’ coming out?” or “Am I taking on too much, like that leader who got crushed?” It’s given me a different perspective, a way to observe my own reactions instead of just getting swept away by them.
It was a truly eye-opening experience. Definitely not what I expected, but exactly what I needed. It’s like finding the missing puzzle pieces to a big chunk of your own personality. Still working on those lessons, but at least now I know what they are.
