0
Dating Diaries #2: Life Lessons from A Priest, A Therapist, and A Numerologist
Dating Diaries,Teresa's Favorites

Dating Diaries #2: Life Lessons from A Priest, A Therapist, and A Numerologist

Here you have it – a GREAT way to roll into the weekend! Another edition of the Dating Diaries from my witty, clever, and beautiful anonymous friend “30, Single and off Lexapro”…may you find laughter, inspiration and perhaps a little validation from her words. If you missed her introduction a while back, you can find it here. TGIF!

*************************************************

In the last 6 months, I sold my first business, broke up with my boyfriend, and I turned 30.

Oh, and I also went off Lexapro, an anti-depressant that I should have never went on in the first place, but ended up taking for 9 years. All of these changes turned my world upside down and sideways, and there was a moment in time where I was so confused that I was willing to spend my time and money (I didn’t have) with anyone who claimed they could give me some insight on life and how we’re supposed to live and survive through it. This led me on a trek to a Priest, a Therapist, and a Numerologist. All of them had merit, and all of them did actually help me in some way. None of them turned out to be a daily force in my life, but rather they came and went just as I needed them to, solidifying yet again the theory that people come into your life when they are supposed and leave when they are supposed to as well.

In the year prior to my break up, I had about 3 jobs and 4 different projects at any given time. I also had a boyfriend 3000 miles away who had been waiting for me to follow through on my promise to move back near our family to get married and produce children for the last 3 years. For reasons too lengthy to state at this point, he couldn’t move and neither could I. We held it together for as long as we could, but eventually it all blew up. I was desperately trying to figure out a way to run my company from afar and still bring in enough cash to cover my bills and not rely on him to take care of my financial burdens. In doing so, I ran around like a crazy person going from one job to the next while he waited for a call or a text or an e-mail to just show that I cared. My attention was disconnected and unaffected, and I didn’t realize how unhappy he truly was until it was too late. The relationship ended, and I was a complete mess.

I was confused and angry, and I felt abandoned by someone who promised a ring and gave me the boot instead. It upended my life, and tacked onto the other changes that occurred on a career front, I felt completely unhinged. I finally understood the phrase, “When it rains. It pours.” It seemed every thing fell apart at once.

Enter the Priest

I started with a priest. I was raised Catholic, and while I don’t go to church every Sunday, I do believe in a higher power, and it felt natural to turn to a church in this time of distress. On two occasions, I laid on the last pew of the church in an old sweatshirt and leggings, the same outfit I had been wearing different versions of for weeks, and I begged God, “Please shed some light on my current shit show of a life. Oh, and please don’t let anyone walk in right now while I’m a blubbering mess… Oh, and sorry I just cursed…” At one point, I went into the confessional completely forgetting how to say the confessional prayer, “Bless me father for I have sinned. It has been like 10 years since my last confession… That’s all I got, Father.” Seriously… through tears and long pauses of blowing my nose, that’s what I said, “That’s all I got, father.” And, then I started crying harder, “I’m so sorry, father. I don’t have anything to confess. I’m sure I’ve done things to confess about, like just now cursing in the pew, but I’m not here for that. I just need some guidance.” After some mildly comforting words, he sent me off to say 3 Hail Marys and an Our Father. As I walked out, I think I heard him breathe a sigh of relief—probably because he could restore order back to his once peaceful confessional.

Enter the Numerologist

Next up, I went to a numerologist. Some people might call her a psychic or an intuitive healer. I just call her my numerologist. I had never done this sort of thing before, but I went on a whim because a close friend told me she was incredible. I was open to anything at this point. I arrived at her hole-in-the-wall studio, and I sat in a chair across from her in this big, quiet, dark room that was adorned with lots of crystals and fabric and statues of all the various healers and heavenly beings—all the things you would expect at a numerology appointment. Of course, I cried with her too. Whether I believed in this stuff or not didn’t really matter because what she said did help me heal, and that was all I went there for. She told me that in the next few months I would be celebrating something at the same time I was closing something else out. I thought she meant that I would give up my business and celebrate an engagement, but by the time I went back a few months later, I realized that it was the other way around.

Enter the Therapist

Finally, I went to a marriage and family therapist. Unfortunately, this woman, while very sweet, was the epitome of what people make fun of when they think of a stereotypical shrink. She spent most of our 45-minute sessions with her head permanently cocked to one side in an ultimate show of empathy for me. She shook her head up and down and said, “Oh… Uh huh… And, how does that make you feel?” And, her brows would furrow and she’d try to look very pained as I cried and gave her the details on all of the dysfunction in my life. After about 8 sessions and a rent payment later, I politely declined going with the excuse that “I couldn’t afford it anymore, but thank you, I really feel like I made some progress here…”

Each of these people helped me heal in some way that I was truly grateful for.

  • From the priest, I learned to look to God for comfort. I learned to trust that the universe & God have a better plan for me that I can’t even begin to imagine.
  • From the numerologist, I learned that my ex-boyfriend was my soul mate because we are linked by the number 8. I also learned that the true meaning of “soul mate” simply states that you will meet the person in every lifetime, NOT that you are meant to be together for all of time. I found some comfort in this as well.
  • And, from the therapist, I learned that what I really needed was a different kind of therapy. I didn’t want to sit around and cry and talk about my problems. I wanted to address my problems, learn practical tools for dealing with them, and then work on setting my personal goals and making them happen. I wanted to be playing offense in my game of life, not defense. I wanted to be proactive, to plan my next move, and make it successful.

And, with that realization, I also learned that I was changing and growing in a very profound way. I was seeking out ways to change my life for the better. I wasn’t just holed up in my apartment lying in bed and crying. I actually was strong enough to get through this. My initial fears that I would be too weak to deal with heartbreak were false. I wasn’t weak at all. I was just healing.

Finally, the phrase that people come in and out of your life just when they are meant to rang true yet again with the Priest, the Therapist, and the Numerologist. So, I figure if this is true where these characters are concerned, it must surely be true for everyone else.

Subscribe to Blog via Email

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

I would love to hear from you...

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

. . .

Join the Eat. Drink & Be Skinny Community for Free!

Simply enter your email address and you'll get instant access to our 30-Day Challenge trackers and the Clean & Colorful Healthy Lifestyle Jumpstart Guide and more!

Welcome to the Eat. Drink & be Skinny Community!