EsotericErin

Category: Personal

  • Maybe You’re Not Supposed to Be Over It Yet

    There’s a strange thing that happens after something difficult.

    You feel it.

    Maybe you cry. Maybe you get angry. Maybe you finally admit that something hurt more than you wanted it to.

    And then, eventually, you have a good day.

    You make breakfast. Answer some emails. Laugh at something your kid says. Put the laundry away. Maybe you even forget about the thing for several hours.

    And because you’re functioning again, a little voice can start suggesting that you must be finished.

    Okay. I’m fine now.

    I should be over this.

    But what if those aren’t the same thing?

    What if being able to carry on with your life doesn’t mean the thing is finished with you?

    I think we sometimes imagine difficult feelings as having a tidy beginning, middle, and end.

    Something happens.

    We feel the feelings.

    We work through them.

    We learn whatever we’re supposed to learn.

    And then we put the whole thing neatly behind us and get back to normal.

    But I’m not sure people work that way.

    Sometimes something matters and then becomes quieter.

    It moves from the middle of your attention to the back of your mind.

    You’re making dinner and suddenly you remember something someone said three days ago.

    You’re driving home and realize you’re still angry.

    You’re folding towels and it occurs to you that you’re sad about something you thought you’d already dealt with.

    Or maybe nothing happens at all.

    Maybe you simply notice, Huh. I guess I’m not quite finished with that.

    That doesn’t necessarily mean you need to do anything.

    You don’t have to pull the feeling back into the foreground and start dissecting it.

    You don’t have to journal about it.

    You don’t have to figure out what it means.

    You don’t have to make a plan.

    You don’t even have to decide whether you’re still allowed to feel it.

    Sometimes something can sit on the backburner while you get on with your life.

    I think we can mistake that for being stuck.

    But there’s a difference between being unable to move forward and moving forward while something is still settling.

    Those aren’t opposites.

    You can have a genuinely good day while something in you is still tender.

    You can laugh and still be grieving.

    You can feel relieved and still be angry.

    You can enjoy yourself without having resolved everything that happened.

    You can even feel better without being over it.

    Maybe that’s part of why I like the idea of a backburner.

    Not everything needs to be cooking at full heat all the time.

    Some things can simmer quietly.

    They can exist without demanding your full attention.

    And sometimes, after you’ve had a little distance, you understand something you couldn’t see when the feeling was taking up the whole room.

    Sometimes you realize what mattered.

    Sometimes you realize what didn’t.

    Sometimes you discover that the thing you thought was about one small moment was actually about a pattern.

    Sometimes you decide you’re ready to put it down.

    And sometimes you don’t.

    I don’t think self-trust requires us to know which one it’s going to be in advance.

    It might simply mean trusting ourselves enough not to force the ending.

    Because moving forward isn’t always the same as moving on.

    Sometimes moving forward looks remarkably ordinary.

    You make the coffee.

    You answer the email.

    You pick up the groceries.

    You laugh.

    And somewhere in the background, something is still finding its place.

    That’s okay.

    You don’t have to return to who you were before something happened just because you’re able to function again.

    You don’t have to put everything behind you to keep going.

    You can keep living your life while something is still settling inside you.

    Maybe you can let today be today.

    And if it comes back tomorrow?

    You can come back, too.

  • What If You Just Asked for What You Want?

    I’ve been thinking a lot about preferences lately.

    Not boundaries. Not dealbreakers. Not the things that make us say an unequivocal no.

    Just preferences.

    The restaurant you’d rather go to.

    The seat you’d prefer.

    The shirt you like better.

    The way you’d like something done.

    The plan that sounds a little more fun to you.

    Small things, mostly.

    And I think we sometimes make having a preference much more complicated than it needs to be.

    There can be a strange amount of work involved in admitting that we want something.

    We want to know whether it’s reasonable.

    Whether someone else wants it more.

    Whether it’s worth bringing up.

    Whether we’ll seem demanding.

    Whether we have a good enough reason.

    Sometimes we don’t even get that far.

    Someone asks what we’d like to do, and “Whatever you want” comes out before we’ve considered the question.

    Someone asks where we’d like to eat, and we say we don’t care.

    Someone suggests a plan, and we say, “That’s fine.”

    And sometimes it really is fine.

    Sometimes we genuinely don’t have a preference.

    Sometimes we do have one and decide that it isn’t important enough to pursue.

    Sometimes we know exactly what we’d prefer and are perfectly happy to let someone else choose.

    I don’t think any of those things are failures of self-trust.

    In fact, I think self-trust requires making room for all of them.

    The important part is knowing which one you’re doing.

    Because there is a difference between choosing to accommodate someone and automatically giving the decision away.

    There is a difference between thinking, “I don’t mind”, and never checking whether you do.

    There is a difference between saying, “You choose” because you genuinely don’t care and saying it because you’ve become so accustomed to accommodating other people that your own preference doesn’t even make it into the conversation.

    And there is a difference between advocating for what you want and believing you should always get your way.

    I think we sometimes collapse those things together.

    We worry that if we admit we want something, we’re being demanding.

    So we soften it.

    “I mean, I’d prefer this, but it’s really not a big deal.”

    “I’d like to do that, if you want.”

    “I’d rather go there, but whatever works.”

    Sometimes that softening is simply our personality.

    Sometimes it’s kindness.

    Sometimes it’s an attempt to leave room for another person’s preference.

    But sometimes I wonder if we’re just trying to make our own wants as unobtrusive as possible before anyone has even responded to them.

    What if we didn’t?

    What if we could simply say:

    “I’d prefer this.”

    Not as a demand.

    Not as a declaration that our preference is objectively better.

    Just as information.

    This is what I’d like.

    Then the other person gets to respond.

    Maybe they agree.

    Maybe they don’t.

    Maybe you find a third option.

    Maybe their preference matters more to you in this particular situation, and you happily go along with it.

    Maybe yours matters more this time.

    Maybe neither of you feels strongly enough to make the decision worth much discussion.

    All of those are possible.

    Communicating what you want doesn’t decide the outcome.

    It simply gives your preference a place in the conversation.

    And I think that’s an important distinction.

    Self-trust isn’t the belief that your way is always the right way.

    It’s not needing to win every disagreement.

    It’s not putting yourself at the centre of every decision.

    It’s knowing that your own perspective is worth consulting.

    You can listen to someone else’s preference without abandoning yours.

    You can advocate for yourself without demanding that someone else agree with you.

    You can compromise without disappearing.

    And you can change your mind without deciding that you were wrong to want something in the first place.

    That last one feels particularly important.

    Sometimes we talk about self-trust as though the goal is to become completely certain about what we want.

    I’m not sure that’s possible.

    Sometimes you want something and then discover you don’t.

    Sometimes you think you care and realize you don’t.

    Sometimes you want two things that can’t both happen.

    Sometimes you very much want something and still decide that something else matters more.

    Self-trust doesn’t remove any of that complexity.

    It gives you somewhere to stand while you’re figuring it out.

    Maybe that’s why I’ve become so interested in the tiny moment before we answer.

    The moment someone asks:

    “What do you want?”

    And instead of immediately handing the decision back, we pause.

    Not because we have to make our preference known.

    Not because we’re supposed to choose ourselves every time.

    Just long enough to find out if there’s something we’d like to say.

    Maybe the answer is still:

    “I really don’t care. You choose.”

    Wonderful.

    Maybe it’s:

    “Actually, I’d rather go here.”

    That’s worth knowing, too.

    And maybe you say it.

    Maybe you don’t.

    That’s your choice.

    But there is something quietly powerful about letting yourself have a preference without immediately turning it into a justification, a negotiation, or a demand.

    You don’t have to make a fuss for your preference to matter.

    You don’t have to convince anyone that it’s the correct preference.

    You don’t even have to get what you want.

    You can simply let it exist.

    And perhaps that’s where advocacy begins.

    Not with becoming louder.

    Not with learning to insist.

    Just with allowing your own voice to enter the room.

    I’d prefer this.

    Then listening to what happens next.

    Not:

    “What if you stopped accommodating?”


    More:


    Sometimes we make having a preference much more complicated than it needs to be.


    You know where you want to eat.


    You’d rather have the window seat.


    You want your boss to consider your idea.


    You’d like your partner to do something differently.


    You want to wear the thing you actually like.


    And you don’t necessarily need a dissertation explaining why.


    You can just say:


    “I’d prefer this.”
    This is about the uncomfortable space between having a preference and feeling entitled to get your way.


    Because I think that’s where a lot of women get stuck.


    We don’t want to be demanding, so we make our preferences sound like non-preferences:


    “I mean, if you want…”


    “It’s totally fine if…”


    “I don’t really care, but…”


    “Whatever works.”


    Advocating for yourself doesn’t require certainty that your preference is objectively better.


    It can simply mean letting someone know what you’d like.


    And then being willing to hear their answer.


    That’s much more interesting to me than another post about stopping self-erasure.

  • When Accommodation Becomes Automatic

    I’m pretty good at reading people.

    Not in a particularly mystical way. I notice things.

    A change in someone’s voice. A pause before they answer. The expression that crosses their face when something isn’t quite what they wanted. The difference between “that’s fine” and that’s fine.

    I’ve learned to pay attention to those things.

    Sometimes that’s useful.

    My husband, for example, is not particularly interested in making decisions. If I wait for him to decide where we’re going to eat, we may still be discussing it tomorrow. So I make the decision.

    Then I watch his reaction.

    If he seems happy, great.

    If I can tell I’ve picked something he doesn’t actually want, I’ll usually adjust.

    There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, I think there’s something lovely about knowing the people we love well enough to notice what they aren’t saying.

    The problem isn’t accommodation.

    The problem is when accommodation becomes automatic.

    Because there is a difference between:

    “I noticed what you need, and I chose to respond to it.”

    and:

    “I noticed what you need, so I never stopped to ask what I need.”

    From the outside, those can look exactly the same.

    A person who is accommodating can look generous, thoughtful, flexible, easygoing.

    And sometimes she is all of those things.

    Sometimes she also has a preference and has decided, quite consciously, that it isn’t important enough to pursue.

    That’s different too.

    I don’t think self-trust means insisting on every preference.

    If my husband wants Thai food and I don’t particularly care what we eat, I have no inner turmoil demanding Italian.

    Sometimes someone else’s preference simply matters more.

    Sometimes the choice genuinely doesn’t matter to us.

    Sometimes we’re willing to give something up because the relationship matters more than the thing itself.

    That’s not self-abandonment.

    That’s choice.

    What interests me is what happens when we stop knowing whether we’re choosing or simply reacting.

    Women are often rewarded for being good at accommodation.

    You’re so understanding.

    You’re so reasonable.

    You’re so flexible.

    You’re so easy to work with.

    You’re the person everyone can count on.

    Those can be genuine compliments.

    They can also teach us something.

    Not necessarily because the person praising us means to teach it, but because praise is powerful. We tend to repeat things that make other people happy.

    If being agreeable gets us approval, we may become more agreeable.

    If anticipating someone’s needs gets us appreciation, we may become very good at anticipating them.

    If never making a fuss keeps things peaceful, we may learn that peace is worth the cost.

    And eventually, something that began as a useful skill can start to feel like part of who we are.

    “I’m the reasonable one.”

    “I’m the flexible one.”

    “I don’t really care.”

    “I can work around it.”

    “I’ll just do it.”

    Maybe that’s true.

    Maybe you really are flexible.

    Maybe you genuinely don’t care where you eat.

    Maybe you’re perfectly happy to let your boss make the decision.

    Maybe you don’t mind changing the plan.

    But there’s a question I think is worth asking every once in a while:

    Do I actually not mind?

    Not because the answer needs to be no.

    It doesn’t.

    Sometimes the answer is an enthusiastic yes.

    Sometimes it’s a shrug.

    Sometimes it’s, “Actually, I’d rather do something else.”

    And sometimes you know what you want and decide not to pursue it anyway.

    All of those are different experiences.

    The important part, at least to me, is getting the chance to know which one you’re having.

    Because I don’t want to confuse self-trust with getting my way.

    I don’t think self-trust means that my preference should always win.

    It means my preference gets to exist.

    I can know what I want and still choose something else.

    I can disagree with someone and still respect their decision.

    I can accommodate someone without becoming meek.

    I can be easygoing without making myself easy to overlook.

    And I can notice someone else’s reaction without immediately making it the most important information in the room.

    That last one is probably the hardest.

    When you’ve become good at reading people, their reactions can feel urgent.

    Someone looks disappointed, and your attention moves toward them.

    Someone hesitates, and you start wondering whether you should change course.

    Someone seems unhappy with your decision, and suddenly you’re reconsidering one you were perfectly comfortable making thirty seconds ago.

    Sometimes that information matters.

    Sometimes it tells us something we genuinely need to know.

    But sometimes it is simply information.

    Someone else’s reaction doesn’t automatically become an instruction.

    That’s something I’m still practising.

    Noticing the reaction.

    Listening to it.

    And then remembering to listen for myself, too.

    Because being thoughtful about other people doesn’t require us to stop being thoughtful about ourselves.

    And perhaps that’s the distinction I’m most interested in.

    Not between being accommodating and being selfish.

    Not between being easygoing and being difficult.

    Between accommodation as a choice and accommodation as a reflex.

    There is nothing wrong with giving someone else the restaurant they wanted.

    There is nothing wrong with changing your mind because their preference matters more to you.

    There is nothing wrong with being the person who can roll with things.

    But there is something worth noticing when you no longer know what you would have chosen.

    Sometimes self-trust is simply making enough room to find out.

  • The Questions That Changed Me Didn’t Have Immediate Answers

    There are a few questions that seem to return to me every year.

    Not because I haven’t answered them.

    Because I’m not the same person who asked them the year before.

    For a long time, I thought a good question was one that eventually disappeared.

    I assumed that if I reflected long enough, read enough books, or understood myself well enough, I would finally arrive at the answer—and the question would quietly leave.

    But that hasn’t been my experience.

    The most meaningful questions in my life haven’t vanished.

    They’ve evolved.

    Sometimes they’ve softened.

    Sometimes they’ve become more complicated.

    Sometimes they’ve stopped asking what I thought they were asking in the first place.

    And I’ve started to wonder if that isn’t the point.

    We often treat reflection like a problem-solving exercise.

    We search for the correct answer.

    The perfect insight.

    The breakthrough that finally explains everything.

    There’s comfort in believing that enough understanding will eventually bring certainty.

    Sometimes it does.

    But more often, I think reflection asks something else of us.

    Not certainty.

    Presence.

    The questions that have changed me most are the ones I couldn’t answer all at once.

    Questions like:

    Why do I keep apologizing for things that aren’t mine to apologize for?

    Why does rest still feel like something I have to earn?

    What does it actually mean to trust myself?

    None of those questions had a single answer.

    They became conversations.

    Each time I returned to them, I noticed something different.

    A new memory.

    A different pattern.

    A little more compassion than I had the last time.

    The question didn’t disappear.

    I changed.

    Somewhere along the way, I stopped trying to finish the conversation.

    Instead, I started paying attention to how it was changing me.

    That shift has quietly transformed the way I think about reflection.

    I no longer believe its purpose is to produce perfect answers.

    I think its purpose is to deepen our relationship with ourselves.

    To notice.

    To return.

    To listen again.

    That’s the kind of conversation I’m interested in now.

    One that leaves room for uncertainty.

    One that allows us to outgrow old answers without feeling like we’ve failed.

    One that reminds us we are allowed to become someone new without abandoning who we’ve already been.

    If you’ve been following my writing for a while, you’ve probably noticed this shift too.

    Over the past few months, I’ve written about permission, self-trust, belonging, and curiosity.

    Slowly, those ideas began gathering around a single question:

    What happens when we stop trying to solve ourselves and start listening instead?

    That question became the foundation for something I’ve been quietly creating.

    It’s called Within.

    Not because it contains the answers.

    Because it’s an invitation to begin a different kind of conversation.

    One that doesn’t end when you close the journal.

    One that continues every time you choose curiosity over judgment, presence over performance, and relationship over perfection.

    I think those are the conversations that change us.

    Not all at once.

    But one honest return at a time.

    🌟 I can stay in conversation with myself.

  • Welcome

    This is not a post about fixing anything.


    It’s an invitation to pause, to notice, and to sit with what’s present—without needing to resolve it.


    If you’ve found your way here because something feels off, unclear, or quietly resistant, you don’t need to name it yet.


    You’re allowed to sit with this.

    I don’t offer answers here.

    Not because I don’t have opinions, or experiences, or things I’ve learned the hard way; I do. But because answers, when they arrive too quickly, have a way of replacing something more important.

    Listening.

    This space exists for something slower than certainty. It exists for the questions that surface when you finally stop pushing through, the ones you might not have known how to ask because you were too busy coping, performing, or keeping things moving.


    If you’re here, there’s a good chance something in your life isn’t working the way it used to. You may not know exactly what it is yet. You might not have words for it. You might only have a vague sense of friction, fatigue, or quiet resistance.


    That’s enough.


    You don’t need a fully formed understanding to be here. You don’t need to articulate anything neatly. You don’t need to arrive with insight, or clarity, or a plan for what comes next.


    You’re allowed to sit with this.


    A lot of spaces promise resolution. They want to help you fix, optimize, heal, or transcend. Often, very quickly. Often with the best of intentions. But I’ve learned, both personally and through years of listening to other women, that rushing to make meaning can become another way of overriding ourselves.


    Sometimes the most honest thing you can do is admit, quietly, that something feels off, and stay there for a while.

    This is not a space for emotional bypassing. It’s not a place where discomfort needs to be reframed into a lesson, or smoothed over so it’s easier for others to digest. There’s no expectation that you move on, stay positive, or make your feelings productive.


    There is no requirement to be consistent. No urgency to get anywhere. No pressure to turn what you’re feeling into something useful.


    Insight can arrive slowly.


    I’m not here as an authority over your inner life. I’m here alongside you, holding space for inquiry without coercion.

    What you notice, when you notice it, belongs to you. You don’t owe anyone an explanation for it, and you certainly don’t need to make it comfortable for someone else before it’s true for you.

    If this feels like an exhale, you’re in the right place.

    You’re allowed to sit with what’s present, without judgment or demand. You’re allowed to take your time. You’re allowed to feel your feelings without having to justify them.

    Nothing needs to change right now.

  • Intense Back-to-School Emotions 101

    Intense Back-to-School Emotions 101

    September Means School’s Starting

    It’s been an extremely busy summer for my family and, while we’ve had an absolute blast, I’m ready to send my kid back to school! Even if she might not realize just how much she grows when she’s around other kids, her father and I definitely do. She was a preemie and has experienced some delays so seeing her bloom has been incredible. Since she started attending, though, I’ve struggled with working through my feelings about my own time in school.

    To be brief, it’s a work in progress. I want my daughter to have a childhood unmarred by my own baggage so I’m trying to focus on how I can enhance her experience and foster a love of learning that will be able to withstand the turbulence of growing up. That includes addressing medical issues that may crop up as she ages.

    School Pix
    Most of these are the results from school Picture Days

    My Baggage in School and Beyond

    This is something I’ve thought long and hard about writing, but I think I’m finally ready to commit to sharing it. I take psychiatric medications.

    That statement can be a loaded admission in some circles, and I know other readers who don’t agree with the idea. The anti-anxiety and anti-depressants have literally kept me going more times than I can count and aren’t even a question if I want to keep being alive. In early 2022, however, I added a new ingredient to my cocktail—Ritalin. The idea of my having ADD or ADHD wasn’t a new one, it was just difficult to discern which symptoms belonged to which diagnosis.

    Lack of focus/concentration (not just in school!) is a frustratingly common symptom. Has it been 2 years since I’ve finished a non-fiction book because I’m depressed or is there another culprit? (See also: diagnosing ADHD in a dreamy girl in the 1990’s)

    Happily, the last 18-24 months have shown a marked improvement in my anxiety and depression. The problem was I wasn’t finding sitting still or finishing things I’d started any easier to do. My husband has complained for years about my constantly moving hands; my sister would tell me to just watch a movie, but I retained more of it if I was also playing The Sims on my laptop; I had always felt like there was background noise in my mind.

    Whenever I would broach the idea of an attention disorder with doctors or therapists as an adult (24-31), I was told I would have been diagnosed by now. Again, getting this kind of diagnosis at school without hyperactivity as a girl in the ‘90s was an enormous task, and the addition of my pronounced anxiety, depression, dysthymia, and borderline personality disorder (BPD) with overlapping symptoms in my adolescence made getting diagnosed for ADHD not only harder but less pressing. There doesn’t seem to be much point to helping a to helping a depressed anxious girl focus on a class if the anxiety keeps her from going to school or the overwhelming negative thoughts make her want to harm herself.

    There I was in early 2022, anxiety at bay and depression under control but still not able to complete tasks or achieve goals (ironically encapsulated in an abandoned vision board from December 2021 whose last bullet pointed affirmation was “I have the focus to complete tasks I’ve committed to tackling”) so I scheduled an appointment with my GP to talk about an assessment. Long story slightly shorter, I “tested very high” for ADHD and we were going to start me on a low dose of Ritalin to see its effects.

    When I say Ritalin has changed my life, I’m not exaggerating. I’ve also been receiving a nerve block to treat a chronic headache issue and these two additions to my healthcare routine have me feeling like a new person! I always hated being told I had so much potential that I was falling short of, and it always felt like there was an intentional reason, even if it was subconscious, so I was to blame. I feel like I can access my own potential with medications handling the hurdles. You’ll still never see me using the word in a shaming way because I know how much it can hurt!

    In the context of my tarot readings, though, I have seen a difference. I’m able to hear and feel my intuition more clearly with the static in my mind turned down. Articulating my thoughts and perceptions comes more easily. There’s still stumbling over my tongue though I’m fairly certain that’s more a result of my brain working faster than my mouth and being a fast speaker.

    I guess what I’m wanting to achieve with this post is twofold. Firstly, it lets people who take issue with a tarot reader being on psychiatric medications a heads up that I’m possibly not the right reader for them. Secondly, and more importantly, to be true to myself by not pretending to be something I’m not and by owning that my psychiatric medications—a positive one!

    Me at school circa 2008

    Moving Forward

    My incredible daughter continuing to love school is so important to me. Her grades and achievements are secondary if she’s miserable when she has to attend or wants to harm herself because she can’t live up to others’ expectations. I owe it to her to not have my pain overshadow the benefits she gets from the school environment.

    Your Turn?

    If you feel like you want insight into past experiences (that don’t need to be handled by doctors, legal professionals, or the like) and you can relate to this post, reach out to me! They don’t have to pertain to school, but I do see September as its own new year with its own new year.

  • A Year in Review and A Year in Preview

    A Year in Review and A Year in Preview

    Happy New Year!

    I’m sure most of us are glad to see the other end of 2020, but it’s not as though all the world’s problems disappeared at midnight because the calendar page flipped. For my part, I want to take more responsibility for myself and my place in the world and encourage others to do the same. I bought myself the Biddy Tarot Planner for 2021 and used the spread suggested to close one year and open the next.

    While I was performing this exercise, I followed the advice in the Planner and sat with each question and answered for myself. I then drew all eight cards and interpreted them intuitively. When I read tarot, I usually read Reversed cards with different implications than their Upright counterparts; the number of Reversed cards that came up in this reading indicated that internal work was done and needed doing, which makes sense given the introspection and realigning I did this year. Here’s my “Review and Preview!”

    Review

    What were my biggest achievements in 2020?

    XXI The World (Upright)

    • Not only did the isolation I experienced not crush me mentally, but there were also actually times I felt my mental and emotional health was better than before these events.
    • I realized that, despite the anxiety and depression that have been near-constant companions to me in my life, I’m an optimist, but I know not every situation will work out for the best for everyone.
    • My take on priorities has shifted. I still accept people aren’t required to have the same (or even similar) views, but I understand better now that not everyone will approach differing points of view with respect or open-mindedness.

    What were my biggest challenges in 2020?

    6 of Wands (Reversed)

    • Coming to terms with my views of “We’re all in this together” directly conflicting with others seeing scenarios as “Us versus Them.”
    • Returning to my retail job and being confronted with hostility or outright aggression while trying to keep everyone safe and healthy. It was more difficult than I had anticipated.

    How did I develop as a person in 2020?

    7 of Swords (Reversed)

    I feel the biggest way I’ve developed as a person was accepting not everything needs to be compared in intensity, but I can work to fix issues where I see too much disparity. The fact that the wealthiest people in the world earned over $1 trillion while others lost jobs or homes, or worked dangerous jobs for not enough compensation, or were told any number of trite phrases by individuals totally out of touch with the experiences of the people they were discussing was appalling.

    How does this relate to the 7 of Swords (Reversed)?

    I’m going to be vocal about how much this upsets me! It’s not going to come from Erin in her ivory tower, who passes judgements while allowing others to bear the brunt of making changes. I may not have made a fortune during 2020, but I was certainly fortunate, and I can use that to help others. Working with others is important, too. Not only does the man in the card look smug, but he’s also acting alone. Getting all the glory and riches from his get-rich-quick heist will work for him by himself; we need a way for everyone to benefit from hard work.

    What did I learn in 2020?

    2 of Cups (Reversed)

    There’s more emotional friction right under the surface than is often acknowledged. Pasting a smile over seething rage isn’t healthy or sustainable.

    How would I describe 2020 in three words?

    Page of Swords (Reversed)

    ☼ eye-opening                                     ☼ disconnected                                    ☼ extreme

    Preview

    What aspects of 2020 can I leave behind?

    3 of Cups (Upright)

    My interpretation of this card may not fall in line with many books you’ll read, but this is where my intuition stepped in and tapped me on the head. When I looked at this picture, I felt like a spectator. I didn’t feel myself in the image at all. It truly felt like the card was a pane of glass, and I was looking at something I desperately wanted but couldn’t reach through the barrier. I need to leave behind my resentment of what I feel I don’t have, the fear of going for it, which leads to apathy and lack of action, and behaving like a bystander to my own life. I want to connect with the people and causes I care about and actively support them.

    What aspects of 2020 can I bring with me into 2021?

    2 of Wands (Upright)

    For 2021 I want to bring with me this momentum for wanting to effect change. I want to be resilient when things don’t immediately work out or I don’t receive instant gratification for my efforts. The focus needs to be on the importance of these issues changing properly, not always on my timeline.

    What new seeds and opportunities are being planted?

    King of Wands (Reversed)

    This is another card that tells me my heart and imagination are going faster than things will happen. I want the world to change for me, my family, and the world, but I can’t march in and say, “This is how things are now because I said so,” and everything will be exactly how I want it. Long-lasting change will need to be built on firm foundations, but the foundations need to be completed first. Don’t flame out!

    To sum it all up…

    Let’s be kind to each other and make 2021 a step to the future we want to see!

  • Happy New Year!

    Happy New Year!

    So, the title may be both slightly premature and optimistic, but I’m wanting and needing a new perspective.

    After I graduated, this month lost its significance in my life. It still doesn’t have quite the same impact as it once did because my child isn’t in the school system yet, however, this could be the year to change that. I’ve been giving it thought lately to restore its significance to my mind.

    I lived for back-to-school shopping; the feeling of writing on a fresh page of a brand new notebook remains one of the most satisfying sensations for me. It got to a point, honestly, where I was loath to use a scribbler more than three quarters because the feeling just wasn’t the same. The start of a new school year seemed like writing in a new book.

    With the current state of the world and how it’s impacted my life, the days (and weeks, and months) run together. I’ve gone through phases I know I’m not the only one to experience.

    1. Oh my gosh, the world is shutting down, and I have no idea what is going to happen! (This one is also a pervasive undercurrent for all phases…)
    2. Free time! I have so much free time to learn a new language/skill, implement a new routine, get on top of all the things I’ve been letting slide forever! Plus, so much family time!
    3. I want to do nothing. Nothing has changed, and it’s been so long (But has it? What even is time?), and I want to go out!
    4. I need to do something–anything! Look, I understand I’m in an extremely privileged position compared to a lot of people, but I’m getting cabin fever. Knowing both those things is causing me so much guilt and makes me feel apathetic.

    I’ve been cycling through those phases since March. Sometimes it’s one more than the others and sometimes i’s all of them in equal measure at once. By now, I’m so over myself that I’m going to focus on September 2020 being my new notebook and using my tarot cards as my favourite pen.

    selective focus photography of several people cheering wine glasses
    Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

    I did a reading for myself asking what I should lose, what I should hold onto, and what I should bring into my life in September. It gave me some really helpful insight for my life. The biggest takeaway for me was the lack of Swords and Cups cards. This tells me I need to untangle my head and my heart, get out of my own way, and just take action.

    Let me know if September is going to be your new notebook (or your metaphor of choice) and what you’re going to put into action!

  • EsotericErin’s Tantalizing Refresh: EsotericErin 2.0

    EsotericErin’s Tantalizing Refresh: EsotericErin 2.0

    EsotericErin is getting a bit of a refresh. If you haven’t been here in a bit (first of all, welcome to the club), I hope you will be delightfully surprised. If you haven’t been here before, the website always looked this good, but you can make up for lost time right now!

    My goal in scrapping previously posted blog entries is to make this website truer to myself and the image I want to stamp on my services. I feel like so many of my earlier posts were impersonal; it’s curious to me how sterile I managed to make my vulnerability. While the kernel of how I see or saw individual cards was genuine, the pieces of writing I produced seem too detached from my feelings and warmth.

    I know right now we’re all going through a frightening time, and I’d hate to look back on this and regret not being authentic to myself. Sincerity is what I want to bring to the table, and where better to start than here?

    Initially, EsotericErin was for me to grow my knowledge of tarot, astrology, and more. I’ve recently realized that if I were to have my way, I’d be forever dragging my feet without committing to a path. Not only would I be reluctant to declare myself as a Tarot Reader to others’ eyes for fear of being judged “not enough,” but I would also be depriving myself of owning my intuition.

    This is the first picture I associated with the idea of EsotericErin. The blog had begun about 18 months prior, but this was my baby step to what I saw as professionalism. By just looking at this image now, I feel it was a facade, my way of personifying what I thought other people were expecting. The problem is that it’s not exactly true to who I am or the image to which I want to be faithful.

    Maybe the person depicted here is who people immediately associate with a professional tarot reader, but when I examine the picture, I know I’m hiding in it. I’m hiding behind a filter to lighten my ruddy complexion, hiding my personalized clothing by sticking with a safe black blouse, and hiding my eyes—the windows to the soul.

    I’m not passing judgement on this picture, or the Erin who orchestrated this picture. It’s okay to make a misstep, it’s okay to continue looking for something you’re unable to define, and it’s okay to realign yourself to what you feel is your most authentic self. No one can be expected to be the identical person at the end of a lifetime they were at the beginning of that lifetime. When I was a child, I had to have my nightlight at bedtime, but now I need blackout curtains and a mask to keep out light while I sleep.

    While my example of feeling like I chose the wrong picture for my website may seem trivial compared to other mistakes, I genuinely believe there is a learning experience to be had from many mistakes. Acknowledging an error and being willing even to try to rectify it, is commendable. Anyone expecting constant infallibility from anyone else does everyone a disservice.

    When prompted to explain why I want to read tarot for people, my most sincere answer is “I want people to feel better”. I may sound naive, but I don’t think I am. There are no quick fixes in the Universe worth the breath used to share them, I know that; however, I try to avoid absolutes in my interpretations of the cards because nothing I see is 100% going to come to pass. You’ve made mistakes and you’re going to make mistakes in the future. I want to help you make better mistakes.

  • Late Night Catharsis

    I’ve been absent and there’s no excuse. I’m probably harder on myself than you could be so just know I am giving myself a lot of grief over my not posting. This website was supposed to be a labour of love because I love tarot, I love astrology, and I love writing. One would think combining many of my loves would make me more dedicated. Joke’s on me?

    I have been studying tarot and other occult schools for over half my life. I was actually at a psychic fair this weekend where people asked me how long I had been studying the tarot. It is easily 15 years, but probably closer to 17. It made me think about how dedicated I am to this vocation if I have only just now decided to take payment for my skills. I want to put my all into it, but (as usual) I’m scared. I like reading online, by email, because it gives me time to collect my thoughts and be as confident as possible in the information I’m giving. In person, however, I start suffering from pressure of speech. I want to share my knowledge, but I’m terrified it’s not going to be good enough for the client.

    Insecurity is no stranger to me. I can’t think of many times when I have felt worthy or even just good enough. I feel as though I have to prove myself to every single person I meet. It’s important to me that people approve of me. One of the readings I did this weekend started off as a 3-card mini spread and ended up being six cards! And it was not because of the client; this was all me, me trying to show them I was worthy of their money.

    Another client I read for had me feeling super guilty about taking their money. I don’t think it was deliberate, but when they asked if all I was going to pull were the four cards I had placed on the table, I had to say yes. That interaction ate at me for a few hours.

    The pressure I feel to do all the talking in a reading is likely a common one. I want to have a conversation with the client, but I feel it’s not always what they want. Another issue I have is that I don’t consider myself “psychic”. I try to use my intuition, but I don’t see myself as someone who talks to the dead, or can read minds, or whatever else you think constitutes being psychic. I feel I’m intuitive when I work at it, but often in the heat of the moment I find myself with an empty head and shallow breathing.

    I know that is something I must work on if this is something I truly want to pursue, it’s just hard for me. I feel like the society in which I grew up tries to divorce us from our intuition and encourages us to look at rational facts, but there has to be something to a blend of those. I bought a gift for someone this past week, someone I don’t know well, and I had no idea what colours to get it in. I just let my intuition guide me and it turned out she loved it! It’s so different, though, when I’m in a store and there’s no real pressure than when I’m faced with a paying customer who wants you to show off your knowledge.

    I think I need to start meditating. I’ve been saying that for years, but I think it’s really hitting home now. I need to learn how to ground myself so I don’t end up with my deer in headlights attitude when someone sits down in front of me for a reading. I have so little Earth in my chart it doesn’t surprise me grounding is important. Ask just about anyone who knows me and they would not say I’m down-to-earth. Practicality? Not my strong suit. Emotions, though, and quick thinking? I have those down.

    I’m not saying there are certain elements in a natal (or any astrological) chart that are more or less favourable, I’m just saying I need more balance. That’s why I sign off with “peace and balance”. I wish those for everyone—including myself.

    This post is getting a little long and I’m sorry, but it’s proving to be cathartic for me.

    I started a new job a couple of weeks ago because while I love my daughter more than almost anything or anyone in the world, I couldn’t hack it as a stay-at-home mother. It was one thing when my husband was on parental leave and we could have conversations to take the edge off of looking after a tiny human all day every day, but when he went back to work, I had difficulty not going stir crazy by myself. So, I found myself a part time job at a shoe store.

    The shoe store itself is great! I really like the people I work with and I love shoes. The biggest problem I think is its location. It’s in a mall and right across the hall from a New Age-y shop. There aren’t a lot of New Age stores here so I am drawn into this one by necessity and proximity. The employees there are very nice and fairly knowledgeable, but it’s in a mall so along with the New Age-y stuff you have Disney merchandise and novelty aprons. I saw a tarot deck there I’m interested in but surely do not need.

    I’ve been thinking more about my meditation problem (is laziness a problem or character flaw?) as I’ve continued to write, and I really think it would help calm my mind if I were to use it even in a loud, crowded room. This weekend at the psychic fair it was so loud in the room I could barely think. I have no doubt it impacted my ability to do a reading. I’m not complaining, just stating a fact. I know at the last event I did found me in a room by myself reading to one persons at a time and not bothered by extraneous noise. I can’t always have a perfect environment so I have to make the environment.

    The organizer of the fair suggested for the next time I might want to bring something to sell. I don’t know what that would be, but I have until March to figure it out. Maybe tarot card talismans? I’m not craftsy (I know that is not a word, but crafty isn’t the right word), but I could start working on finding something now and perfect it before March…

    I think it’s time to call this post done.

    Peace and balance,

    Erin