At one point in my life, I visited a fortune teller. She was off a busy street in Orlando, Florida – my roommate had convinced me earlier that the fortune teller had known everything about her.
As with most fortune tellers, they usually tell you elusive and positive things – people accept the abstract and complimentary.
My visit was not the case.
She told me I’d never be happy. That I would marry my best friend – and not my soulmate – and that I would never live in another country. That I’d make a great real estate agent. And if I ever wanted to fix my “unhappy” problem, come see her for a treatment.
This was in 2010.
It’s 2016 now and just a year ago, I broke off a four-month engagement with my boyfriend of four years, and I’m currently typing this entry on a hard bed in a southern province in Thailand called Nakhon Sri Thammarat. I teach English as a Foreign Language to high schoolers.
Did I believe this fortune teller for years? Yes.
Did I see this fortune teller to be “healed” of my abysmal future? No.
Was her assessment the reason I left? No.
The thing of it all is, I never needed an ailment and I never needed someone to tell me how I was going to live my life. I never needed anything or anyone else, but me.
I am the reason I left and it was tough. I am the reason I am here and it was brave. I am the reason I am living the life I teased myself with for years because I found love for the dreamer on the cusp of blooming on a Friday night alone in my bed in Downtown Orlando.
I am the reason I am – and I am strong, passionate, resilient, and a warrior for all things truth and love. And I am so grateful to be in this moment.