So listen, this Virgo mess I’ve been tangled in since spring? Yeah. Kim Allen’s June forecast promised to “solve your biggest problems fast.” Big talk. Figured why not throw punches at it myself before Mercury retrograde screws everything up again.
What Hit The Fan First
Woke up Tuesday feeling like my whole life was one giant overflowing email inbox. Taxes half-assed. Work deadlines breathing down my neck like a creepy ex. That weird noise the car keeps making, still undiagnosed. Classic Virgo overload. Remembered Kim’s advice: “Start by naming the beast.” Grabbed my crappiest notebook (the one with coffee stains) and just dumped everything pissing me off onto one ugly list. All caps. Lots of underlining. Felt childish. Felt good.
The Kim Allen Shuffle
Her forecast said to pick ONE big, hairy problem and “attack it Virgo-style” – meaning break it into stupidly small steps. Chose the damn taxes since it had actual “go to jail” energy. Made a comically pathetic plan:
- Find stupid tax papers – Literally just look under the couch cushions first.
- Dig up login for tax website – Guess password until lockout, then use “forgot password” like a sane person.
- Figure out one deduction – The easiest one. Like the $10 donation receipt stuck in my glovebox.
Scheduled 45 minutes Wednesday morning. Set a kitchen timer like baking cookies. Actually found the W-2 behind the printer. Minor win. Password? Got it on the third try (the cat’s name spelled backwards plus “123”, embarrassing but worked). Plugged in just one number from that crumpled donation slip. Stared at the screen. Didn’t panic. Timer dinged. Stopped. Felt… weirdly okay?
Where Reality Crashed The Party
Thursday, tried Kim’s next magic trick: “Identify the hidden pattern creating chaos.” For me? It’s avoiding stuff that feels huge and complicated until it’s a five-alarm dumpster fire. Started tackling another email. Started feeling that familiar itch. That “overwhelm” buzz in my skull wanting me to close the laptop and watch cat videos. Kim calls this “the Virgo perfection trap kicking in.” She ain’t wrong. Instead of quitting, sent one single reply I’d been dreading. One! Hit send. Walked away. Did not refresh inbox. Survival mode.
The Unexpected Bit
Friday morning? That one tax step? Somehow made opening the file again less like facing a firing squad. Tackled another tiny deduction. Didn’t finish. Didn’t explode. Then the car thing. Used Kim’s pattern trick: Realized my car mechanic avoidance was fear of the bill. Called one garage, didn’t commit, just asked for a ballpark. Hung up. Did not cry. Still don’t know the bill. Still didn’t completely freeze. It’s progress? Barely. But progress.
Where I’m Landing
It’s still June. Problems ain’t solved. Taxes aren’t filed. Car’s still rattling. But Kim’s “fast” feels less like instant fix, more like chipping away with a plastic spork instead of my usual panic-induced sledgehammer. Not glamorous. Doesn’t look like the ads. Those stupidly small steps? They’re like leaving breadcrumbs in the forest of my mess. Follow one. Pause. Follow another. Haven’t solved my biggest problems, but maybe I’m not drowning as hard. Feels less like failure, more like… managing the storm instead of wishing it away. Virgo as hell.
