Even Optimists Get Depressed

DISCLAIMER: This is about a recent incident, mostly and other past situations.

The incident: The night before I had to be up at 6:00am, with a job I had planned for over a month. A friend/client texted. “Can you do a reading, right now?” 

I texted back, honestly, and said, “Not tonight. Tomorrow, later in the day — maybe. I have to get to bed early for a morning gig.” 

This person does pay, nevertheless, with no sleep; I would mess up the job in the morning. And in my intuitive business, I prefer to make an appointment.  This friend/client texted back, “I will never use your service again!” and unfriended me on Facebook!

I don’t recall saying that I am here at the beck and call to my friends/client. Yes, I have done same day readings; it is not my regular thing to do. Secondly, to unfriend me and refuse to utilize my service again, over this, how unkind, rude and very unloving (for a friend).

 Apparently, not a friend at all.

Of course, through the years, there’s the friends who feel my gift is something I should give them full benefit of – all hours of the day or night, for two or four hours – without compensating me.

NOTE: Nevertheless, I do have wonderful friends who pay me regularly for readings – as they can and what they can – when they ask me to utilize my gifts for them.

Still, even optimists get depressed. We really do . . . yet, when we do [get depressed], we get chastised for it.

You see, us who encourage and fix everyone else are not truly allowed to . . . well, feel down. I’m sure it’s because, if we’re down, then, the world must be ending.

Reality check, we hit bottom, too. Sure, 85% of the time, we are the cheerleader for you, ourselves and the Universe. Then, after weeks, months or even years of being that gracious, fun-loving and joyful person – we hit a jagged rock or two or a hundred.

Through our tutelage and/or our encouragement you get to:

1) pursue your dreams,

2) win, win, win from all our free advice

Then, you feel showering us with “I love you” is a fair reward for the two-hour phone chat – during non-free minute days – or when we could be looking for a job.

What’s love got to do with it? I’d rather have cash . . . to be honest. Money may or may not buy happiness – still, I certainly feel much better when I have electric, food, transportation and can pay for my phone, rent, etc. Thus, having money lowers my blood pressure, and stops panic attacks. And certainly that makes me happier.

Somehow, one thing is forgotten – we, the cockeyed optimists – have to give up our dream career for a “real job”. We are asked to do the right thing, give up everything we ever wanted. All our giving of our free advice (to you) pays no income, and you do not offer or have excuses.

I love youdoesn’t pay rent, unfortunately. We can get downright depressed! Can you blame us?

To add salt on the wound – you will give us advice, i.e. “don’t post that you need help on Facebook. It looks unprofessional . . .

And no . . . psychics do NOT know everything, i.e. lottery numbers, where you are, your name or if we will get clients. Our gift may be highly accurate, yet, there are limitations.

Then, when we don’t express our need, guess what happens in our life? NOTHING! We don’t get money, we don’t get help and we fall deeper into depression, debt, high blood pressure, sleepless night and dis-ease.

Then, you tell usyou’re different orcheer up”. Pay me, I will cheer up! You have to seek help to get it. The Lord helps those who help themselves. Being quiet, sitting in what’s left of our room, begets no actual help. We’re hungry. We have bill collectors calling hourly . . . we get told “no” at every corner for jobs . . . and then, you text or call and want immediate attention! Wow! Because we are home, unable to go out — we are supposed to stop everything and help you through an emotional crisis, for no compensation.

Of course, you have a job and do not know what it is like to have the electric company threatening to turn off your electric . . . still, we, the optimist, the person with a business that you, or others, consider “unimportant” and not really worth actual money . . . we are supposed to jump to cater to you the second you have an issue.

Sorry, my time is worth money. Yes, you are a friend. You are not being my friend, though, when you feel it is my job to jump when you say jump. Strangely, I recall, awhile back when you said, “If you ever need anything, just ask.”

And I remember when I did need help – like now – you aretoo busyor youhave bills”. Yes, you have bills and an income. I don’t [have an income] unless you compensate me for my time. Your bank account is down to $1,000 until your next paycheck. Wow!

Click Here

My account is down to .05 cents (no exaggeration). Closed my savings account a few months ago, since it cost $3.00 a month and I often had $2.00 or less in it. My .05 cents won’t go up

until you, or someone decides my service is worth a few bucks.

What I’m saying is be real, my friends. I just had to vent . . .

Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming of optimistic encouragement, love and light!

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The Universe Sent Me A Gift!!!

http://www.mishkaproductions.com/intensive-angel-course-doreen-virtue.php

Get this! I just won a FREE entry to this conference . . . !!! Now, I must get to Phoenix, AZ in time. And well, I need a little help for that. Thus, in the next couple of days, I need to come up with about $470 for the roundtrip airline ticket.

I do Intuitive/Psychic Readings and for $50.00 you get one-hour. I may have to give the reading after the conference, nevertheless, if you pay now and help me get to the conference you’ll get one of the best readings ever.

If you’d like to lend me the full amount or something towards it, that’s good too. I can receive gifts via PayPal (money) and/or if you want to cover it on your credit card (you can make the arrangements with the airline and I won’t need your credit card info.) — I will reimburse you when I can.

Help me get my “Angel Certification”. I appreciate all of you.

Love, Light & Laughter,

Angela Theresa

Unlocking Your Gifts: Make Me The Next Top Author

The Next Top Author Contest

 http://www.nexttopauthor.com/profile.cfm?aid=706

My dear friends . . . you can help me become a top author! In fact, I will be posting excerpts from my book here.

The better news, though:

If you vote for me, just by clicking on the link that reads: The Next Top Author Contest. You will receive a FREE question answered by me via email! That’s right! Just in time for Valentine’s Day — a question answered by a Psychic/Medium, one of the best in NYC or the United States!!! [And she’s humble, too].

 

Day Eighty-Seven (87): Law Of Attraction & Psychic

Day Eighty-Seven (87): Wednesday, May 26, 2010

86) How Shamans Have Used The Law of Attraction

To achieve the manifestation of the greater good, a spell might be cast, a blood-letting undertaken, a sacrifice made, or a dream incubated. For example, the shamans of several Native American tribes underwent vision quests, performed shamanic healings, sat in sweat lodges, and engaged in sun dances. They chanted incantations to ward off attacks by aggressive Europeans. That’s not to say that they always got what they wanted because the law, when opposite poles of attraction are set up, responds to the more powerful vibrational pull or yields a less strong or, in some cases, a mixed result. Native Americans performed incantations but were still attacked and lost battles to their powerful enemies whose forces, goals, and intentions proved stronger.

Yesterday, I spoke of some of my gifts . . .

Since it is day 87, it reminded me of 1987 as that was a pivotal year for me, regarding spirituality, Law of Attraction and beginnings and endings.

Most of it began pretty early on, February 1987. My father has been ill, with cancer and a strange accident in the hospital in October or November and wasn’t expected to live. He was laying, in an open-eyed coma at the Veteran’s Administration Hospital in Phoenix, AZ. I was back in Astoria (Queens), New York waiting to hear from Mom of any changes.

At Christmas, I flew home to visit with my parents. Daddy was already in the Veteran’s Hospital. A couple of months earlier, when, after a major surgery to remove his lung and part of his jaw — in ICU; my father had, in the middle of the night, fallen out of bed [according to a nurse’s report] and died for 15-minutes. After they resuscitated him and place Daddy on life-support they phoned my mother, announcing him brain-dead.

Before pulling the plug, Mom and I decided to make sure and had several neurosurgeon give their opinion; including, two top ones’ from New York. He was, indeed, by all accounts, brain-dead. We pulled the plug. From that day forward, my father was breathing on his own and only had a feeding tube and other tubes to sustain life. His breathing was his own.

This all happened at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Phoenix, AZ. I was told, by my mother, to stay in New York with my job and life, etc.

All the while, one of my dearest friends from Roosevelt Island, NY, Susan “Susie” Schwartzberg, only age 19, was battling her cancer. She had a tumor in her face; a tumor that first appeared when she was 5-years-old, was treated and went into remission and re-emerged at the age of 17.

My life, at this time was Rocky Horror Picture Show, Tim Curry and my job at a fashion showroom, as an Administrative Assistant. I worked in New York’s Garment District; just above Calvin Klein. At work, on the old-fashioned man-operated elevator, I saw people such as: Joan Rivers, Calvin Klein and Angela Jagger (one of Mick’s former wives). I was also involved with a cabaret act, began by good friend, Andrew Martin Arnold. Susie and I were both in this act.

Admittedly, the cabaret act was a great idea and Andrew’s baby. He, at that time, was a talented young gay man, one of my first Rocky Horror friends in New York who, through the years, has done a lot in the cabaret world of New York. He also has dealt with many of his life demons, some of them very well and some of them not so well. We had re-acquainted a few years back [three or four years ago] and a few months ago; after some on-line conversations that were, to me, rather condescending, childish and rude [not unusual, unfortunately, for Andrew] — I decided to unfriend him on facebook. I didn’t block him, nevertheless. Anyway, long story for another time.

In 1987, he and Susie were a huge part of my social life. We spent a lot of time together and the rest of my cast at my Brooklyn theatre, Marboro. Near Bensonhurst (Brooklyn). My Rocky Horror cast performing one night of the weekend and the other night we hung out the infamous 8th Street Playhouse in Greenwich Village (with the NYC Rocky Horror cast).

In the meantime, I felt, in my gut, I was getting closer and closer to living my dream of meeting and getting to know Tim Curry. I was not wrong!

In the early hours of February 4th, I was awoken from my sleep by a familiar voice. I heard my father say, “Wake up, little one. It’s time.”

At the foot of my bed stood my father, Michael Egic. He was a bit translucent and appeared similar to the Star Trek tv show; we used to watch together, right before they were beamed back completely–and my father stood there. Seeing as my father still lay in a coma in Arizona and I was there, in my Queens, NY apartment — it occurred to me quickly, he was passing on and stopped to bid me goodbye.

Daddy and I had a conversation, which I’ll share another time; he went “into the light” which, he told me, he kept seeing. I went back to sleep, forgot it all until I got to work later that morning — and it came flooding back.

My father died the same day as Liberace. February 4th, 1987

A few months later, August 28th, 1987 . . . after five years of hoping, praying, imagining the day. I finally met the man: The one, the only TIM CURRY! I met him, just me and no other fans, at 1515 Broadway (now MTV Studios), which, at that time housed Minskoff Rehearsal Studios. Tim was there rehearsing the Broadway touring show ME AND MY GIRL.

On my birthday, September 28th, I turned 24-years-old; I went to see Susie in Sloane Kettering Hospital, where she stayed because her cancer (tumor) had progressed. She was legally blind now, due to the location of the tumor and going deaf in one ear. Prognosis was not good. In fact, when I arrived at the hospital, Susie was all excited to tell me about her bouquet of flowers from her favorite actor, Christopher Reeve [before his tragic accident, mind you]. I told I met Tim Curry; but played it down for Susie to have her moment and celebrate Christopher Reeve’s gift to her.

In November 1987, I received a call from Susie . . . from her home on Roosevelt Island [I had lived with her and her family briefly the year before]. She was inviting me to her 20th birthday party. Her voice, now very damaged from the tumor, was barely understandable.

A note on Susie’s voice: When she had the tumor at age 5. The chemotherapy and the placement of the tumor damaged her nasal passages and she had very buck teeth and the highest voice . . . so high, we called her “Squeaky” . . . but wow, what a high soprano she was when she sang in our cabaret group! Now, due to the progression of the tumor; she slurred her words and the high pitch was just difficult to understand.

My friend, Arleen and I, attended Susie’s 20th birthday party. It was evident, Squeaky would not be with us much longer. She died a few days later.

In late 1986, too . . .my poor mother lost her brother, Curly [Everett Collins] and her sister, Mary Margaret Ream to cancer, also. Both in Arizona.

Curly was an interesting uncle and caused much problems in my immediate family. I’ll elaborate at a later time.

Mary was good, as I remember her and I was close to her children, my cousins and keep in touch with one, to this day. I talk to her other three children, too . . . just not as often as my cousin, Linda.

Love, Light & Laughter,

Angela Theresa

Day Eighty-Six (86): Spiritual Power

Day Eighty-Six (86): Tuesday, May 25th, 2010

86) Psychics And Shamans Tap Into Spiritual Power

Psychics and shamans have traditionally been people who claim to sense the unseen, see into the future (divination), work with the supernatural in lower or higher realms of existence, or have the ability to influence unseen energies or spirits through spells, incantations, magic dream work, music, ecstatic trances, and sacred dance. Ancient peoples called psychics and shamans by other names, medicine man/woman, priest/priestess, or sorcerer/sorceress, necromancer, and magician, for example, depending upon their particular cultures. Often shamans occupied places of high position within a village or culture.

Many people have asked me how my psychic/intuitive gifts work? Where do they come from? Are they inherited? Briefly here, I will attempt to explain for those who want to know.

First, let me say, I honestly believe 98% of the population have psychic gifts. Perhaps it is 100%, nevertheless, I’ve met a couple who — whether it be lack of education, socially or tradition, or other factors — seem devoid of any inner guidance system at all; thus, I say 98%.

Psychic gifts manifest is various ways and by many different names. For example, knowing who is calling on the telephone before it rings, or without looking at the caller ID. Or much more major intuitive messages such as the dozens or hundreds of stories of September 11th, 2001 — when many people decided to not go to work at the World Trade Center, or travel to New York. In fact, that’s my story!

From May 2000 through May 2004, I lived in Los Angeles, California. At the beginning of September 2001, my live-in boyfriend, Fredy Adolfo Gonzalez De Leon, had received his workers compensation after a two or so year battle. It was approximately $35,000.00.

We were living in a motel and had, with the money, finally planned to move to our own apartment. Fredy was tired of hearing me talk about New York and how much I loved it. He also was interested in seeing New York and Washington DC. Particularly the Pentagon and in New York, The World Trade Center.

September 9th, 2001 Fredy and I were sitting in our hotel room and contemplating our move . . . and having a little fun on some of the money. We had a rough year together, financially. Fredy and I had been together from September 9, 2000. So, he told me that anniversary morning that he wanted us to go to New York the next day. He would buy us the tickets that day, the 9th, and we could leave for New York on September 10th.

I missed New York terribly and really had been talking, for months about the money and going back “home” for a visit. So, yes, I was interested in this spur of the moment plan. Yet, I had gained a lot of weight since my departure from NYC in 1997 and two weeks before, in Burbank, CA, I had just joined Weight Watchers. I thought about the amazing offer for a couple of hours, felt queasy (actually) and then, I told Fredy.

Not now, I’m too fat and don’t want my friends to see me fat. We’ll do it later in the year.”

Fredy said fine and reminded me he had made the offer.

On the morning of September 11th, I awoke to the newscast of the first tower being hit. Fredy was watching it. I asked him why he was watching such an awful movie . . . and he pointed out it was LIVE!!! I was crying and was saying, this is planned, someone is going to hit the other tower. As I said it to Fredy, the 2nd plane flew into the 2nd tower!

Another strange note about that . . . I lived in New York from 1984 to 1989 and again from 1992-1997. I had recurrent dreams, nightmares, really, for all those years of being in an upper floor of the WTC, and seeing fire and I would be holding onto the carpet as the building swayed uncontrollably toward the water and the other buildings.

Since 9/11/2001, those dreams have ceased.

As for my family history:

My mother tells stories, one in particular, about her father, Norman Collins, reading the stars.

My mother was very young, obviously and was standing outside in her home of Ashland, Kentucky with her father. He was reading the stars to her.

He said to Mom, “In six weeks the President will die in the White House.”

Six weeks later, President Roosevelt died in the White House.

My mother, of course, calls her gifts “intuitive” and they have always made me insane. Why? Well, as a child, my mother would always share her feelings, out loud, to my friends, family and strangers! I found it embarrassing and sometimes just plain cruel. Mind you, my mother is about honesty. And she doesn’t mince her words! Nor does she have any tact. What pissed me off the most . . . she was usually right on the money!!!

I’d bring a friend home, on occasion (if I was too embarrassed) and my mother would take one look at him or her and say, out loud, “That girl is not your friend.”

I’d be insulted and my friend would be, too. More often than not, I would try to defy my mother’s prediction and continue to hang out with the friend. And lo and behold, a month or more later, the friend would betray me in some way. Mom was always right on the money.

Of course, Mom gave me positive statements, too with “I like him, he’s a good guy.” She adored my high school boyfriend, Vincent Townsend. He and I were together for three years.

Mom is now 78-years-old and still says embarrassing things. There are stories that would make most of you freak out, blush or run and hide in some rural commune. Although, if you have met my mother or you do . . . trust me, everyone, in the long run, loves her! I guess a Southern accent makes the insults seem funny or less biting. Still, my mother does, after a long dose, tend to get on peoples’ nerves. You think I talk a lot?! Meet Verna, or as her nieces and nephews call her “Aunt Dolly”!

I come from a long line of drunks, talkers and nut cases. Don’t say a thing to me about that! You cannot be crazy if you know you are, right? I know I am . . .

How does my gift(s) work? I would say, basically, I see pictures and movies in my head. They tend to be accurate and right on the money. Perhaps, as my mother’s instincts tell her. Although, generally, I am more tactful (I hope!).

I am also clairaudient and clairvoyant. I hear words in my head . . .they are like my own thoughts, yet different. Thus, I can distinguish from my own words and those from a higher place. And yes, I see dead people and spirits . . . all the time, walking around like everyone else. [I borrowed that from SIXTH SENSE]. I would say, though, as I got older, it’s more like I sense them in a mental vision.

Don’t get me wrong, sometimes, I see them, too. Nevertheless, not exactly like GHOST WHISPERER clear. They would be more faded looking . . . somewhat see-through.

For now, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. More later . . .

Love, Light & Laughter,

Angela Theresa