Man, sometimes the things you randomly stumble across during a deep clean just hit you sideways. I was finally, finally, trying to tackle the disaster area I call my file cabinet—you know, the place where receipts from three years ago go to hibernate—and I pulled out this dusty old notebook from 2016. I had completely forgotten it existed. Flipping through, I saw these frantic scribbles right on the first page, marked up with red pen and surrounded by half-doodled stars: Virgo Career Projections, Month by Month.
I actually laughed out loud. Back then, I was totally hooked on trying to control every damn outcome, obsessively mapping my future based on whatever some website told me. I specifically remembered the headline of the article I’d followed: “Revisit those old projections!” I was stressing hard about a job switch and a major freelance opportunity at the time, and I clearly thought the stars were going to hand me the answers.
So, right then and there, the cleaning stopped. I decided to launch a full-scale forensic audit of my past self. Screw organizing the cabinet; I needed to know if 2016 Me was a brilliant visionary or just a nervous wreck who read too much internet garbage. I mean, what a great way to waste an afternoon, right? But the goal was simple: dig up the projection, map the reality, and analyze the resulting mess.
The Great Scramble to Find the Source
The first step was a total grind. I had to track down the original articles. You’d think this would be easy, but most of those quick-hit prediction sites from years ago are long gone. I spent about an hour and a half just trawling through my ancient email archives, typing in weird keywords like “Jupiter Virgo alignment” and “career breakthrough.” Finally, I found a half-sent draft email to a friend where I’d copied and pasted the exact monthly predictions for the whole year.
Once I had the list, I pulled out my old digital calendar and expense reports for 2016. This wasn’t just about seeing if I got a raise; this was about seeing if my emotional state and actions during those months actually lined up with the astrological ‘mood’ the prediction set. I literally opened a giant spreadsheet—yes, I still use spreadsheets for this kind of foolishness—and started mapping.
I cross-referenced every major professional decision I made that year. Did I take that weird client? Did I actually quit that terrible side job? Did I invest the money I was planning to invest? I had three columns: the Prediction, the Actual Event, and the Outcome.
- January/February: The projection warned about “unforeseen financial turbulence and the need to protect assets.” What actually happened? I impulsively bought a ridiculously expensive piece of camera equipment that I barely used, totally depleting my emergency fund. I was the financial turbulence.
- April: This month was predicted to be “a period of intense learning, but internal conflict over direction.” I vividly remember April. I was taking an online certification course but spending every single evening arguing with my business partner about whether we should pivot the company focus. The conflict was spot on, but it wasn’t the stars making me argue; it was fundamental business disagreement.
- August: The forecast was bleak: “A major setback involving contracts or negotiations. Prepare for delays.” In August 2016, a huge contract I was finalizing with a major client fell through. Total, frustrating mess. But here’s the kicker: looking at the emails, the client had signaled they were getting cold feet back in May. I was so focused on reading the horoscope that I completely ignored the real-world warning signs months earlier.
- November: The prediction promised an “unexpected windfall from a distant source, providing much-needed clarity.” Guess what? That month, a client who had owed me money for almost two years—I had totally written it off—finally paid up. It was exactly enough money to cover some unexpected tax expenses. That felt like magic.
The Revelation and the Real Takeaway
After four solid hours of this nonsense, I finished the audit. The overall accuracy rate was maybe 35%. The vague stuff—like “conflict” or “delays”—was bound to happen anyway, because that’s just life when you’re running your own gig.
But the real revelation hit me like a ton of bricks, and this is the core of the practice I want to share. This whole exercise wasn’t about validating whether horoscopes work. It was about seeing my own motivation laid out plain.
When the prediction was positive (like that November windfall), I remembered feeling immense relief and thinking I was blessed. When the prediction was negative (like the August delay), I remembered feeling defeated, thinking I couldn’t fight destiny. In both cases, I wasn’t proactive. I was reactive. I was letting external factors dictate my mental energy.
The prediction about the November windfall? I realized I had only checked on that old debt because I was desperate, not because the stars commanded it. I used the horoscope as an emotional crutch to justify my actions or lack thereof.
This is the real practice record: I wasted so much mental energy in 2016 worrying about celestial events when I should have just been paying attention to my clients, my finances, and my own stress levels. The “revisit” part of the title suddenly made sense, but not in the way the original article intended. It was a prompt to revisit my state of mind, not my fate.
I sealed up the old journal, not throwing it away, but marking it clearly: “The Book of Anxiety.” It’s a powerful reminder now. If I ever catch myself looking outside for guidance on a decision that’s already been brewing inside my gut for months, I know I need to stop looking up at the stars and start looking inward at the actual data. Stop seeking permission, start executing the plan. That’s the real win from digging up those ridiculous 2016 projections.
