Okay friends, we’re bringing it all the way back in time. I’m going to turn this karmic wheel just a little bit. I had a phase in my life when I thought that the qualities I saw visually in someone were the exact qualities of their heart. It was worth every second of it—or so I believed. Unfortunately, today as an adult, this little story tends to come back exactly when I need to learn a new lesson. It seems like this phase was truly a turning point for my Wheel of Fortune, and I just needed to know how to survive.
For the last week I’ve been hearing, as usual, a new song—this time Sk8er Boi by Avril Lavigne. It was one of my favorite songs. I never knew what my ancestors were going to bring me, and back then I was a little out of touch spiritually. I don’t even think I thought about having gifts—that’s how far back it was. But it feels significant. Not only did I manifest it, I lived it for a very long time.
I grew up a little bit more edgy than most people. While yes, I do have quite a bit of fun, airy energy, I was also hm known to be more into the alternative scene. I would get just as excited as anybody else if I could crowd surf or go to underground rock concerts with my friend Riley. We always had a fun time growing up, exploring how emo we could actually get. I enjoyed those spaces in my life because honestly, alternative music is underrated. It’s a safe space for people to work through their emotions—obviously with the “emo” part—without causing harm. It’s for people who feel intensely.
Or at least to make sense of those intense emotions, which now I know was a mix of other people’s emotions, and trauma from everyone I’d met along the way—especially my family. Now I know how to deal with it. Not many other genres of music can help you do that.
I had a thing for men who were a little more alternative, just like me. And back then, if they had longer hair that flipped out to the side or blew in the wind, I was a complete sucker.
On this fine afternoon, I happened to be walking outside, heading from the library, and boom—omg there he was. It was like the beginning of a really cheesy teen movie. Riding on his skateboard, wind blowing in his hair. It was colder that time of year, so he had an oversized snowboard jacket, looser pants, and these really messed-up Vans. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking, but all I knew instantly was that I was in love. If you could call it something, I think you would say I felt like it was soul recognition. Which, in a way, it was—because you’re destined to go through any relationship if it’s for your highest good, for your soul’s expansion.
I didn’t stop to talk to him and he didn’t stop to talk to me. He just smiled as he rode by, and I had this weird feeling that we were going to see each other again.
I was already in a weird relationship with somebody else. The type where a part of me knew he didn’t want to be with me and the other part living the dream in a toxic relationship because that’s just how they all are. He never wanted to tell anybody I existed, never wanted to hold hands—and yet, there I was, little Miss Devoted, always by his side. Everywhere he went, he reminded me that all the most beautiful people come from Oaxaca only.
Telling this story out loud just makes it glaringly obvious how much trauma I carried in my body. But nonetheless—we persist.
I think my heart was searching for someone to actually see me. To care for me. To want to spend time with me. I didn’t know how to leave a relationship that felt toxic, even if my friends were unsure about him. They didn’t say much, but they just hinted from time to time.
One night, I went out with friends to a local bar. It was around Valentine’s Day. Once again, my partner wanted to act like I didn’t exist, so I was spending the holiday with a friend who had also just been dumped that same day. Real fucking classy. I didn’t want her to be alone, and I didn’t want to be alone either. So we got a group together, went out, and tried to have some fun. She immediately met someone (whom she later married for a time).
And there he was again—the skater boy. What were the chances? He immediately came over and started talking to me. Our conversation was so intense, it was like time slowed down. I couldn’t hear anything else around me. We laughed about how much we loved pizza and how we both once had tongue rings.
It was odd how much we had in common. And weird how easy it was to talk to him. I let him know I had a partner. Of course, him being him, he asked, “Where is your partner? And why are you alone on Valentine’s Day?”
He had a really good point. Did I actually have a partner? He was off with his friends somewhere—maybe the movies, last I heard. And I was out with my friend who’d just been dumped. Back then, I occasionally went on drinking benders, but not that night. I wanted to make sure my friend was okay.
Valentine’s Day was special to me. It was my grandmother’s birthday—she had passed away—but I still loved love. My mother always made Valentine’s Day huge, with surprises in the kitchen, fresh heart-shaped cookies, teddy bears, balloons. She wasn’t good at saying “I love you,” but she made sure we felt it through those gestures.
So there I was, craving love, talking to someone who actually wanted to hear me. Realizing my so-called partner never really asked me questions, never cared if I was happy. It was always about him. Never me.
Before I knew it, the bar was empty except for my friend and her new guy. She asked if I was ready to leave, and as I stepped outside, the skater boy leaned in and suddenly kissed me.
“What are you doing?” I snapped.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that. But I really like you.”
I was upset, but part of me had forgotten what it was like to feel wanted, to feel desired. It wasn’t like the kisses with my partner, which felt like obligations before sex.
That night I told my roommate—my fiery, lip pierced, tiny Latina friend who was always ready when I needed backup. She laughed when I screamed into my bed, then asked what happened.
“That guy kissed me out of nowhere! Wtf am I going to tell my partner?”
She said maybe I didn’t have to. Maybe I would only cause him pain. But I was loyal to a man who wanted nothing to do with me.
Later, when I told him, he called me a “whore.” And still, I stayed.
What followed weeks later was darker. Not from my partner but from someone else I knew. Assault, trauma, being (trigger warning) dragged, beaten, locked in a closet, then rescued by my friends. When I spoke with my partner this time—bruised and battered, still barely able to breathe from the swelling—he simply said, “You deserved it.”
That sent me into one of the darkest spirals of my life. Did I deserve this? Was all that echoed in my head.
However, I survived.
After days of laying in bed in the dark not knowing where to go or who to talk to, I eventually went outside. I was different this time. I didn’t trust anyone anymore, not even myself. Only to be met with gossip about being a slut.
The skater boy came back later with an apology, and over time, we started to connect.
He was romantic, artistic, adventurous. Trips across continents, concerts, dinners, red carpets. On the outside, it looked perfect. On the inside, it was control, manipulation, a glass house that kept me trapped.
The rest of this story—some of you may know.
Everyday was a fight to choose myself. Stuck in a reality where I could see the world moving around me but no one could see me. It was a strange feeling. Things weren’t tangible enough to tell people what I was experiencing, but I could feel myself being torn apart. I was unsteady. Questioning my own emotions. Typical outcome of gaslighting. The inability to feel grounded in your truth because it’s always the one thing in question.
My ancestors would lead me out of bed and I would cry at the window in the kitchen, frozen, just watching the sun. The days I did, a crow would come sit in front of the window and stare at me for as long as I was there. I could hear “Blackbird” by the Beatles playing in my head. The ancestors telling me that I was never alone. Before I knew it years had gone by. I looked over and noticed my plants were all beginning to die in the garden, a cycle was about to end.
Eventually I got the strength to leave.
I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I’d be okay. My karmic wheel had turned. My soul was trying to choose freedom.
And even though it was painful—even though it almost broke me—it was worth every minute to become the person that I am today.
💌💫 Was this story Fact or Fiction? In your life do you know if they’re “the one,” or just a cosmic test? Ask your spiritual love questions below & vote whether or not this was true and you can even send it anonymously as well if you’re a little shy💖.
I’ll answer them LIVE every Friday on Zi TV (YouTube) at The Fairy Medicine Woman, I’ll be revealing the truth one heart at a time. So be sure to follow along & I’ll see you soon my friends🌙🔮 💋.
💚 Totally True!❤️ Nah, lies!
✨ Tarot Card—let’s see what the universe has to say!
💸 Tarot Breakdown: King of Pentacles 💸
* Upright (King Energy): Stability, abundance, romance wrapped in luxury, security that looks good on paper, adventures that seem like dreams come true. A lover who shows up with glitter, gifts, and grand gestures that make the world feel golden.
* Reversed (King Shadow): Control disguised as care, money manipulation, glass houses that turn into prisons, abuse hidden under status, the illusion of love when it’s really ownership. The shadow side of material comfort—when wealth becomes a cage.
