The Life of Brian

Recently, me and the lassies from uni were kicking about. We spotted a new tarot/mystic centre opened. So having picked up £20 we toddle off to get a reading. I go first. You ready?

So the guy starts laying out the cards, and thus begins the charade of "mystic". Reading was in several parts. I made notes. I'm that anal.

So after telling me, random Barnum shit for about a hour in come the "spirits"

A male, grandfather like or fatherly. He's shy and reserved, happiest pottering away in the house and garden. He passed in hospital, not at home like he wanted and it was to do with chest issues, possibly a "heavy" chest like pneumonia. He hears wheezing. Its a "B" name? Bob, Bobby, nope. Brian. Brian is definitely the name thats given to him. Can I take a Brian? Can I take a message to a Brian that this man is fine?

No.

However Brian haunts me. Any previous "readings" I've went to this feckin' Brian pops up. I don't know a Brian. I know of one Brian vaguely but not even in a friend way. So ghost Brian's frickin' stalking me. Last reading was that I would come to know of a Brian. Still waiting...

I say "Sorry I don't know a Brian".

Closely followed by "No. I have no knowledge of a dead aunt who treated me like a daughter with red hair and the name Kirsty is connected"

These denials? They mean I am....

PSYCHIC.

I should totally go for training as my "gift" means that I am receiving messages for other people. I have a great powerful gift, that could help, and heal, many people, as I am a green psychic meaning I HEAL. I HELP.

However in addition to this he also told me I was single, would be self-employed whilst rising to the top of my chosen profession, but that I'm skint. That I need to drop my "barriers" and connect with other people and to "follow the breadcrumbs" and realise peole are like, there for me, y'know?

I must say it cheered me up. I've not laughed so much since a kinesiologist told me I was suffering from X-factor of '95, my base chakra was red and I should hug a tree to reconnect with the earth.

I'm drowning

Drowning.

Circling the depressed drain. I've been trying to cling onto the sides for as long as possible, but I feel like I'm in a hole, and I'm never getting out. Like people are so far above me they can't see me.

Which is fine. I'm kinda withdrawing from everyone anyway. I don't want to see anyone, do anything, talk to anyone, finish anything, start anything.

I'll act it out anyway but I feel like my mask is slipping. I feel people can see me, the inner me. I feel like a bad person, an incomplete and lesser person. Like a faded carbon copy of what a normal person is.

I feel like I'm fading away, but I'm still right here.

I'm still here.

Well, that went well...

So my mum phones me today "I'm outside Pauls work can you phone him and tell him to come down and I'll give you that money I owe you?"

"Mum, Paul changed offices remember?"

"Oh. Aye. I'm so stupid." starts crying "I'll just go"

"No mum, come up see me, we'll go for lunch"

"No. No. Just leave me. You'll be tired"

"Mum dont make me drive and fucking come get you, get your arse up here, I could do with the company. 10 o'clocks a lie in for me"

And so begins my mothers descent into mental illness again. You remember? The one where she either spends months depressed or rapid cycling?

I think we're heading for depressed, judging by the way she was talking and the fact that she was considering "doing what I usually do", meaning she's considering suicide/self harm again.

Good times. Not.