The Thinking Other Woman

1.) Getting the astrological topic out of the way first:

So here's what happened, y'all: This past week, especially centering on the 17th, many transits favoring communication were had by all. Despite one particular card reader nattering on about how many of us were likely to hear from a runner, I had my doubts, due to: past behavior.

What happened: After his usual two months off after I posted "Let's Just Kiss and Say Goodbye," a certain person started visiting AGAIN. How do I know it was him? Once again, a cell phone, coming directly to the blog with no prior search.

Only this time, I found myself shouting with laughter, because, after reading LJKASG, the person ... just scrolled the blog topics and didn't read any. (OMFG.) As usual, the VPN was all over the place, but this is generally the only person with this view pattern.

This occurred every other day for like a week or so.

Then, I have no idea why, but this person started coming directly to a post I once made called "First Day of the First, Last Window" (this post is almost a year old) and reread that a couple of times. WTF??

Based, wisely or unwisely, on a number of tarot readings I've seen lately, I went back to that post and left a message at the top of it. Two days ago--true to form! he did the same thing again, so I know he saw it.

About the only two things I can say about this are, a.) The guy ends up picking up his messages, and b.) all astrological transits favoring communication in this connection (you can't call it a "relationship") reflect is that he's here visiting, and that if I post him something, he will see it. That. Is. All.

2.) On Depression.

So lately, I've just felt so sad and purposeless. Like, Why am I bothering? All I really have in life is my job and chores at home, and I can't say that my job is a reason for living. I mean, I have a job that is helpful to animals and people, but I have it because I said I wanted to do it when I was four and that was all I ever prepared for. I used to wonder about doing other things, but if I said it my mother got angry.

When it was time to apply to professional school, I panicked and tried to think of something I would want to do instead, but ... there was no answer. Except I always thought I wanted to become a fiction writer, but I had no stories in me and I needed something that would make enough money for me to live on my own on. Because I SURE didn't ever want to have to go home to live, ever again. So, here I am.

I've struggled for the past thirty years to write fiction. Only, my last writer's group assured me my last attempt at a novel was crap, and I pretty much fell apart over it. I took this to mean I had no talent at all. That the past thirty years were nothing but narcissism and grandiosity, and that the whole thing was just an exercise in humility. All that time I was tending the elderly aunt and cousin in their last years in the nursing home? That was the Universe saying:

This is what you really are, and this is where you are really heading. Directly here, not by way of what you were dreaming all these years. Narcissist!

Yesterday I made it through 30 laps in our FRIGID pool. We must be the only spot on the planet having an unseasonably cool summer with lots of clouds and rain. And the deep end of this pool spends most of the day in the shade. As I sat shivering in my new supersize thick beach towel, I read a memoir by Wynonna Judd. My spirits lifted as I reached the parts where Wy and her mother were discovered and their career took off. I remembered when I was young and used to fantasize about being discovered as a fiction writer. Oh, and how stupid and grandiose this is. And I just felt so sad and purposeless. Job. Chores. Job. Chores. Why even bother getting up? I've felt like that for DAYS. NO fucking energy at all.

But, this morning I woke up and checked. The past three months I've made between $400-$500 on Medium (and I sure could use the money.) I have top writer status in Psychology, Love, and Infidelity. This time it hasn't taken me two years. So, all that time I struggled on there for two years, thinking I was lower than worms, I actually got here. Twice. I will never reach the top of Medium, because I write about infidelity and that is a niche topic on there, but I'm pretty close to the top of that.

Last month an article I wrote on YourTango got over 400,000 views. On the Experts section of the site, it's the most popular article EVER. (Meaning that some of the astrology and entertainment ones have done better.) But, on the section of the site with all the therapeutic practitioners, I have the top article.

Then, I had to think about Wattpad. No, I don't have an audience on there, but both my novels were finalists for the Wattys last year.

And I keep asking the universe where the evidence is that I have any hope of success.

I keep being told via the tarot that I'm supposed to be working hard on some BIG project. That that's my purpose in life, and I need to find it in order to be happy. And I've kept wondering WTF this "BIG project" was supposed to be. I keep wondering what, if anything, I was supposed to write. Since I've sort of lost interest in the series my late husband was helping me with, and I can't do it without his help, anyway, the other one--the one my last writer's group hated--is the only one I have any interest in, and I've spent the last two years giving up on it and telling myself it's terrible.

But all the while I'm climbing to the top of my topic on Medium AND YourTango. I'm FINALLY doing well in my career and for some twenty years, I didn't think I could ever do that.

What if I could do it again?

WHAT IF I COULD DO IT AGAIN???

If I want to make it as a fiction writer, it's my only hope. I'm fifty-four; I don't have ten years to dick around with agents and shit. Besides, 99.999% of people who get traditionally published do dick around for ten years struggling to find an agent, writing and rewriting, then they write and rewrite some more for a publishing house and never sell a book. Career Over.

My only hope is to find a following on Wattpad so big they can't ignore me. I mean, if you can't write such that people fall in love with your book, you won't have a career anyway. You might as well build that huge audience from the ground up, rather than struggle and struggle to get some paltry deal with a publishing house and then find out your book won't sell anyway.

To do that, you need at least a MILLION hits on Wattpad. I am NOT off to a good start. But, it's the only thing I want to do, I'm in a good astrological window to do that (finally), and it sure does sound like HUGE project I'm supposed to be working on, that's going to take a HUGE amount of work.

I feel a whole lot better thinking about this than I have in months. People say depression is chemicals and antidepressants, but for some people, it's THOUGHTS. I wake up this morning thinking this one thought, and presto! I'm better. It's the difference between holding myself back, achieving what I have so far all the while telling myself I'm no good and stagnating in a nothing life, and moving on and feeling better.

I have been begging the Universe for some kind of guidance for months now, after all, right? I've just been so broken down by my shitty, shitty life and all the awful things that have happened in it, I can't even see my own accomplishments.

And, although I'm not too sure how this can be true, twin flames are supposed to be energetically connected. If I do better, he does better. (Again I say: What the fuck??)

WHAT IF I REALLY COULD DO THIS A THIRD TIME, ON A THIRD WEBSITE???             

If I do, I'd better at least make it as true to everything I already know and already do as I can. If only a few people ever see it, or if anyone does at all, I don't want to do something as misleading as a Disney princess movie. I want it to enlighten and entertain people, or at least enlighten if I really can't entertain. What if I really could do it?? Even if it turns out I couldn't ... two out of three ain't bad. Right?

Because for two years plus, I didn't think I could do anything I've already done.

It sure is a happier thought than where I've been.