Letting go & letting God.

I learned to believe in God from a short diabetic wrinkly witch in the floor of a Catholic poser’s Pagan shop.

I’d taught myself tarot at the age of thirteen. Six years later, having failed out of the honors college and almost all of college entirely, I decided to put more time and effort into my studies.

My spiritual studies.

Because my depression and trauma were all consuming and I couldn’t leave my bed for months after surviving a string of rapes, nothing felt more important than talking to my mom.

Since she’d died when I was twelve, I was training to be a psychic at nineteen.

I took so many classes with my mentor, I can no longer recall with confidence which was first.

But the first time I thought Angels might be real was during her class on Archangels.

I need to draw this story. I can do it so much more justice in a few weeks when I have some graphics and maybe audio or video.

To be continued…