ASK NO QUESTIONS….
A cheating man and three women! Where will it all end….?
Please note that this story contains swear words and adult references!
Becki Rogers felt sick. Her body was clammy and her head ached. Mike was snoring away, lying on his side, facing away from her. She peeled the quilt from her sweaty body, and picked her way through the gloom, fumbling for the door handle. The bathroom assaulted her senses, swiftly waking her up. She slithered on cold, grey floor tiles, grabbing at the white ceramic basin for balance. Everything was grey, black or white in Mike’s bathroom, and the opaque window was without blind or curtains. The pale yellow, early morning sun streamed in, highlighting the starkness of the room. The starkness of the relationship…the starkness of her life.
She sat and peed, rubbing her eyes, and the flakes of last night’s mascara stuck to her fingers. “I bet I look like shit”, she muttered, as she wiped and flushed, and the diamond shaped mirror above the sink confirmed her suspicions. Blotchy, puffy skin, black – ringed eyes, dry lips. And a mouth that tasted as if she had been munching on the scrapings from the bottom of a chicken coup.
She knew that Mike would not rouse himself for several hours, and she didn’t want to hang around like a spare part. Two months ago she would have showered, piled on the make – up, quietly tidied up, and nipped out to buy milk, orange juice, bacon, eggs, and fresh rolls. Mike rarely had anything in, other than a couple of bottles of red wine and a half bottle of whiskey. But that was before she realised he was a selfish, lying, self – centred shit. And yet here she was, wasn’t she? In his soulless, black and white apartment, a place that served a purpose but could never be called a home. That would never, ever be HER home.
She crept back into the stale – breath smelling bedroom, gathered together her clothes, and tiptoed towards the door. Mike didn’t stir, and she hesitated for a moment, staring down at his broad shouldered bulk, his tousled black/grey hair. He managed to look smug and self – satisfied even when asleep. His square jawline, dark brown eyes, soft, generous lips and lightly tanned skin used to make her heart skip a beat. She still found him attractive, he still had some kind of hold over her…but he was beginning to treat her as if she was disposable, as if he was doing her a favour by drunkenly humping her a couple of times a week. He used to be all over her, sending suggestive texts, taking her to expensive, out of the way restaurants. He bought her little gifts, sexy undies and toys…clothes, shoes and jewellery. She should have known better. It was her own fault. Even after she discovered that he was married, and father to two children, she allowed him to persuade her to continue. He was sorting it out, he said. They were separated, and he had his own place, as she could see. It was only a matter of time, and then they’d look for a different place for the two of them. She wanted to believe him, and so she did.
Until she saw him in McDonald’s one Friday afternoon….with his family. The children were chatty and noisy, especially the boy, and Mike was teasing them, winding them up, and they were all laughing. She watched, from a table in the corner, hidden from view by a pillar, as he added sugar and milk to his wife’s tea, cocking his head towards her as she spoke…affectionate and attentive. Anyone who didn’t know better would swear that this was a happy, very – much – together family. She also noticed how he surreptitiously checked his phone every few minutes, and she knew he wasn’t expecting to hear from her. He was supposed to be working until 7pm, unable to take texts or calls. Her heart thundered in her chest, and a wave of nausea rose up. She pushed her chicken mayo wrap away, too sick to take another bite. It’s funny how life can change so dramatically within the space of five minutes. Funny and horrible. She wanted to cry out loud, to confront him, to inform his wife that the man who was stirring her tea, and lovingly wiping tomato sauce from her son’s face, was planning to set up home with HER. He’d been between her legs less than 24 hours ago, his strong body pinning her to the mattress, his broad hands firmly holding hers above her head, as he moved in and out, breathing lustful words into her ear. She could still smell him, ever so slightly, on her skin. She wanted to march across and break up the scene that was breaking her heart into a thousand pieces. Instead, she put her head down and left, tears cascading down her cheeks as she pushed against the heavy glass door. She knew he still had association with his family…but not like THIS.
“Well how do you expect me to behave?” Mike’s face was red, his expression twisted and angry.
“I don’t know!”, Becki sobbed, hating the way he was glaring at her. “It was just a shock, that’s all.”
“I told you I see the kids”, he stormed. “What do you want me to do with HER…make her sit in the car? Ignore her? Give her a good hiding? You’re making a mountain out of a fucking mole hill!”
“I’m sorry…I just didn’t expect to see you there, with them. I thought you were at work. I don’t know how I imagined things to be….but it wasn’t that. You looked so happy together…”.
“For fuck’s sake, are you checking up on me now? Do I have to keep you informed of every move I make? I wasn’t at work because the computers were down and I couldn’t DO anything. Alright? And I’ve had enough of THAT bag of skin constantly getting on my case, without you joining in. If you think I’m such a fucking liar, you can fuck off and find some other sucker to bleed dry.”
Mike slammed his foot on the brake, throwing Becki forward, almost hitting her head against the windscreen.
“Get out!”, he seethed. “I’ve got better things to do than sit here and listen to this shit!”
“Mike, please…I’m sorry”, Becki covered her face with her hands, sobbing tears that trickled through her shaking fingers.
“I SAID get out!” Leaning across her, he opened the door, unfastened her seat belt, and pushed her. “Out, NOW!”
Becki fumbled for her bag, stumbling from the already moving vehicle, jumping back as the car door slammed shut. The screech of tyres and the smell of burning rubber caused passers – by to stop and stare, first after the rapidly disappearing BMW, and then at the crumpled, tearful woman hurrying away, shoulders shaking, head down.
Mike called her two long, painful, lonely days later. He apologised, explaining that he’d been under a huge amount of stress, and was struggling to cope with everything. She was so relieved to hear from him, he could have been speaking in tongues. It didn’t matter what he said, as long as she heard from him and everything was okay. Sorry was absolutely enough. He showed up with flowers and wine, and they headed for the bedroom, where they stayed until he left at 6am. But everything was different, and it never went back to the way it was before that fateful day at McDonald’s. He became less and less attentive, and increasingly too busy to see her. The sexy texts, the gifts and the compliments became fewer, but still they’d have sex, two or three times per week…sometimes only once. And here she was, quietly letting herself out of the apartment that was a perfect match for soulless, black and white man, snoring the day away in his sex – stinking man – cave, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Sandra Beasley was pretty sure her husband was screwing around. Technically they were separated (not her choice), but he was in touch everyday, and he often called round for his tea, helping to settle the kids in bed. And then they’d make love, quickly, quietly either in the lounge, or in the bedroom. He’d creep out, so as not to disturb the children….didn’t want to give them false hope. She knew she’d pushed him away after the birth of their son, sinking into depression, and putting on weight. Simeon was now seven, and Rosie eleven, and she still wasn’t right. She couldn’t blame Mike entirely, although in her darkest moments she did. She couldn’t think about the future right now. He wasn’t a bad dad, though he was snappy and moody at times. She just took one day at a time, and hoped that sooner or later Mike would move back in, and they’d all be happy again.
Before she followed him, Becki had already decided to end the painful, self – destructive shit that passed as a relationship with Mike. She knew about Sandra, of course, but wasn’t sure if Sandra knew about her. Becki had also done a bit of research, a bit of sneaky asking – around. She discovered that Sandra was a decent enough woman, living in hope that Mike would move back in with them. She herself knew how it felt to try and hang onto that man, and she was embarrassed and sorry. She felt as if she had awoken from a weird, dark dream, and as a completely different person. If she was going to end this, she wanted answers, and she wanted closure, and she was going to do it properly.
Becki hired a car, on a 24 hour basis, and parked a few yards away from Mike’s apartment. She also wore a wig….shoulder length honey blonde….and a pair of blue tinted glasses. Mike would instantly recognise her little old rattly BMG, and she didn’t want to take any chances. It was all very cloak and dagger, and one part of her couldn’t believe what she was doing…how low would she actually be prepared to stoop, where this fucking man was concerned? Another part wanted to know EXACTLY what he was up to….but even if she found out, she had no idea what to do with the info. What if he wasn’t up to anything? Would that change her mind about breaking up with him? What if she found he was helping out at a soup kitchen, or going to church meetings? She sniggered at the idea, actually hoping against it. She wanted to hate him with every ounce of her being, not see him in a different, better light.
Just before 9pm, Mike appeared, and Becki could almost smell the Dolce and Gabbana aftershave he favoured. Crisp white shirt, open at the neck, black jacket, dark grey trousers, black Paul Smith shoes…he was pulling out all the stops tonight. He looked confident, heading toward his beloved, newly polished car, with a spring in his step. Within seconds he was pulling away from the kerb, and Becki followed in his wake, trying to remain far enough behind to avoid being seen, but not so far that she’d lose sight of him.
Ten minutes later, Mike pulled into Sainsbury’s, parking in a bay close to the entrance. Fifteen minutes later he emerged, a big bunch of multi – coloured roses in one hand, and a gold coloured box of chocolates in the other. Becki doubted that they were for her, OR Sandra…but she figured she was soon going to discover the identity of the intended recipient.
Once more they were in transit, and Becki weaved in and out of the traffic, almost on autopilot, keeping track of the jet black BMW. She couldn’t believe she was trailing the man she once thought she loved more than anything. She didn’t know how she felt anymore….right now numb, and somehow lonely, but fucking determined.
Mike’s left indicator was blinking, and he pulled to a stop outside the Old Bell pub. Becki squeezed into a space several yards behind him, and watched as a tall, thin, amber coloured girl, teetering on six inch heels, wobbled towards the BMW, round fake boobs jutting high on her skinny rib cage. Mike leapt from the car, hurrying round to plant a facehugger of a kiss on plumped – up, scarlet lips, before ceremoniously whipping the door open, waiting until she had settled her no doubt pert arse and fastened her seatbelt, before clicking it shut. Becki’s heart ached as she caught the expression on Mike’s face…he looked as if all of his Christmases had come at once. He used to look like that when he was with her. And then she reminded herself of all the other stuff, and the ache subsided a little. Mike was pulling away from the kerb, but Becki had seen enough. She suddenly felt drained and flat…and a little old. That girl couldn’t have been more than 26/27. What was he thinking?
Becki had decided to just head for home, but then she remembered the key to Mike’s apartment. He hadn’t given her a key, and he didn’t know she had one. He’d lent her his key one day, so she could let herself in to do some cleaning and prepare a meal, but she was supposed to leave it on the table. No woman would ever be given free access to Mike’s life. And she HAD left it on the table…but only after having a copy made…just in case she needed it. She had no idea what she was going to do, but the decision to let herself in was made, and she turned the car around. She’d figure it out when she got there.
Mike’s apartment smelled of aftershave and bacon. There was a plate and a mug in the sink, and his dirty clothes were spread across the bathroom floor, a wet towel hanging off the basin. Becki wandered into the bedroom, and felt sad and sick. She sank onto the bed, remembering the good times….the nights when Mike couldn’t get enough of her, when she felt beautiful and sexy and desirable. She lifted his pillow, pressed her face into it and breathed deeply. The scent of his hair, his skin, his aftershave…a yearning overwhelmed her, and hot tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping onto the black and blue pillow case.
Suddenly, it was as if she was watching herself from a distance, and a wave of shock ran through her. “LOOK at you! WHAT are you doing?” Throwing the soggy pillow back onto the bed, she stood up, and stared at her reflection in the wardrobe mirror. She looked lost, tired and pale. “He’s dead”, she whispered. The Mike she thought she knew had died, and she was grieving the loss, as anyone would. The Mike she had experienced over the last few months was not the Mike she had fallen in love with…the Mike who didn’t actually exist, except in her imagination. It was always going to end in tears…it was inevitable. It was her own fault. She deserved this.
Becki wandered back into the living room, not sure what to do. And then it struck her that Mike had not actually ended their relationship. Technically, they were still together, even though he was two – timing her…AND Sandra. He didn’t know that she knew about Miss Fake Titties. She tried to work out what all of that meant to her. How could she use it to her advantage?
She decided to act as if everything was okay, to see what Mike would do next. Would he come clean, or would he try to juggle plates, ‘servicing’ three women? She laughed humorlessly at the idea of Mike sucked dry, reduced to a husk. It would be his own fault. He’d deserve it.
Becki absentmindedly tidied the bathroom, washed the plate and mug, and helped herself to a glass of wine (it didn’t click with her that Mike would wonder who had been in whilst he was out, bouncing on Miss Boney). It was unlikely that he would be back tonight, she reckoned, and so she might as well take her time. She settled down on the couch, flicked the tv on, and drained her glass. One more wouldn’t hurt. Except that, already being exhausted, the wine went straight to her head, and within minutes she was snoring away.
“What the fuck are you doing here? How did you get in?”
Becki awoke with a start, briefly confused and disoriented. Shit! Mike was back, and she was still here.
“Well? I’m waiting? How did you get in?”
“Erm, the door was open….I called round on the off chance, to see if you wanted to go for a drink, and….”
“Liar! You cut yourself a fucking key, didn’t you?”
Becki stood up, terrified Mike was going to lose his temper again, desperately looking around for her bag and coat. But he was laughing. Actually laughing.
“You sneaky little minx…I’ve got to hand it to you. I’d probably have done the same thing myself!”
Becki was unnerved. Something wasn’t right here. She scrutinised Mike’s face, trying to understand what was really going on. Maybe he was just being sarcastic, and the eruption was about to occur. She was surprised to see that he genuinely didn’t appear to give a fuck…and that he also looked a little grey in colour, washed out.
“Are you okay Mike?”
“Yep…never been better! Just overdone it on the old foie gras and vino, but apart from that, I am fucking fantastic! In fact, I’m glad you’re here…I’ve got something to tell you, lying little Becki”.
Becki’s heart sank…here it comes, she thought.
“Okay, go ahead, I’m listening”.
“All in good time. First I’m going for a piss, and then I’m going to get out of these clothes. Pour me a glass of that stuff…” He indicated her half empty glass.
Numbly, Becki went into the kitchen, and sloshed red wine into a glass. “Looks like you’ve already had enough”, she muttered.
Mike was gone for some time, and Becki wondered if he’d fallen asleep, until she heard him whoop loudly, followed by “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!” He was really behaving weirdly tonight, she thought, as she headed towards the bedroom, curious to know what the hell was going on now. He appeared, in his bathrobe, grinning from ear to ear, blocking her way.
“No entry!” He sneered, placing his hand in the centre of her chest, pushing her backwards. “Those days are gone, my saggy old love!”
“Bastard!” Becki felt as if he’d punched her in the gut, and she shoved his hand away. “Don’t fucking push me!”
But Mike did push her, not hard, but insistently, until he had backed her into the living room.
“Right, this is as far as you go….and this time next week you can do what the fuck you want. I will be far, far away, with the legs of a young, gorgeous, sexy goddess wrapped around my waist. I’ll even give you MY key…you can move in for all I care”.
“What…what are you talking about? I fucking saw you Mike….with HER! She’s young enough to be your daughter….you stinking bastard! And what about Sandra and the kids?”
“Well not quite, but she’s certainly younger than you”, he taunted. “And all of a sudden you’re concerned about my soon to be ex wife and kids….bit late, don’t you think?”
Becki felt crushed, humiliated and dirty. How could it have all come down to this? Mike was staring at her, coldly amused, arms folded across his chest. He still didn’t look right, but what did she care? She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he had hurt her, how stupid and ashamed she felt. She would get her stuff and leave….and she would never, ever see or speak to him again.
“Don’t worry, I’m going to scrub you and this place off my body, as soon as I get home. I only came round to tell you I was finished with you! I’m going to get my things together, and get the hell away from you, you disgusting bastard!”
“Liar liar, pants on fire!” Mike laughed, and knocked his wine back in one, coughing as it went down.
“I hope you fucking choke”, Becki sobbed inwardly, as she collected her meagre bits and pieces from the bathroom. She remembered she had left her beloved Jimmy Choo’s in the bedroom, and despite Mike’s ban, pushed the door open and flicked the light switch. Her eyes lighted upon his phone, lying on the bedside table, and she was suddenly seized by an overwhelming desire to get her hands on Miss Botox’s number or Facebook details. Hastily, she grabbed at the phone, intending to check out his most recent calls/texts, and realised that Mike had been using the phone only minutes earlier….to check his lottery numbers. The page was still open. She also noticed the lottery ticket, lying face up…..and she remembered Mike’s victorious whooping. Quickly scanning the numbers, Becki gasped, and dropped the phone onto the bed.
“Oh my God…..he’s won the lottery! Six numbers….he’s WON THE FUCKING LOTTERY!”
A loud crash, followed by a dull thud, made Becki jump with shock and fear. She waited, expecting to see Mike come thundering through the door and do God knows what, but there was silence.
“Mike….Mike…are you okay?” She called out and waited. Nothing. Venturing into the hall, cringing, waiting for him to leap out and grab her, Becki was barely breathing. She reached the living room door, and listened. Still nothing. Stepping forward, tentatively, Becki thought that the room was empty….until she saw Mike lying on his back on the floor, shards of glass scattered across his face and chest. A dining chair was lying on its side, across his left leg.
“Mike!” Becki rushed forward….stopping when she realised that Mike was dead. Staring sightlessly at the ceiling, right arm stretched out, palm up, left arm draped across his chest. He was dead. A heart attack? Too much booze, too much food, too much sex….too much of everything.
Becki sank to her knees, and stared at the body of the man she had once loved, but who turned out to be a heartless, disgusting user. She couldn’t blame him entirely….she was a willing participant. She should phone for an ambulance, or the police…she should do something. Becki became aware that she was holding onto a piece of crumpled paper, and as if in a dream, she opened it up and smoothed it out. A winning lottery ticket. Six numbers. No use to Mike now. A thought suddenly crossed her mind, and she dragged herself up and made her way back to the bedroom. Retrieving the phone from the bed, she checked to see who Mike had communicated with, within the last hour. No – one. The last call was to a number unknown to her…probably his new girlfriend, at 8.30. So no – one knew he’d won the lottery. He’d obviously bought the ticket at Sainsbury’s, and checked the numbers when he arrived home. Nobody knew…except her.
Sandra Beasley awoke, feeling more exhausted than when she’d gone to sleep. Sim was singing loudly in the bathroom, and Rosie was banging on the door, shouting “Shut up and hurry up, in that order!”
Sandra dragged herself out of bed, catching sight of herself in the dressing table mirror. Crumpled, baggy tee – shirt and greying, washed out knickers. She sighed and shook her head. She’d given up the fight…no point in doing anything else.
“Mum, there’s a letter here for you!” Rosie’s voice echoed up the stairs, and Sandra sighed again. Probably another bill. Bit early for the postman though.
Rosie had left the letter on the third step from the bottom, and Sandra groaned as she bent down to scoop it up. The envelope was small, white and square. There was no address or stamp. Just her name, typed. She tore it open, anxious and unsettled…who could be writing to her, and why? Inside, she found a small piece of plain white paper, and the message was brief: “Look inside the shed. There is nothing to worry about”.
Sandra felt afraid, though she didn’t know why. She hesitated, wondering if it was someone’s sick idea of a joke, but she knew that if she didn’t check the shed she’d be worrying all day. Pulling a coat on, she quietly slipped out of the front door and headed round to the back garden. The shed was at the bottom, on the right, and she tiptoed barefoot through the damp grass. At the shed door she hesitated again, before quickly pulling at the door handle….she didn’t know what to expect. Maybe the shed would explode (Mike’s way of getting rid of her), or someone would be waiting with a knife or a gun (still Mike’s way of getting rid of her). Instead, all she found was a suitcase. Medium sized, dark brown, a bit scratched. There was another small, white square envelope, lying on top of the case. Hand shaking, she reached out, picked it up, and tore it open. Another printed message: “Don’t ask any questions, and don’t tell anyone or phone the police. No one will be coming looking for this…you are safe. You have earned this and you deserve it. Have a good life”. And it was signed “A well wisher. PS, it IS real!”
Sandra breathed heavily, and stared at the suitcase. She had no idea what was going on…maybe she would wake up soon and find that it was all a dream. She reached out and touched the scuffed leather…and then she released the catches…and then she lifted the lid.
“Oh my God….oh my God….oh my God!”
Sandra Beasley sank to her knees, scraping them on the rough concrete floor of the old shed. She didn’t feel a thing. The suitcase was full of money….bundle after bundle after bundle of notes. She couldn’t begin to guess how much was there. Was it Mike…? No, somehow, she doubted it. She hadn’t heard from him for almost two weeks…no – one had. Obviously off on one of his jaunts again. She continued to kneel, unaware that her knees were becoming numb, staring at the money, reaching out every now and then to stroke it, until Sim’s voice broke the spell.
“Mum, mum, where are you? There’s no milk…”
“No milk?” She whispered. “Son, I’ll buy you a bloody herd of cows….”
The smell eventually became so bad, Mike’s neighbours alerted the council. None of them really knew him…they kept themselves to themselves, in April House. However, the dusty BMW, covered in bird shit, rang alarm bells….what they did know was that the guy in apartment 19 kept his car in an absolutely pristine condition. Something wasn’t right.
Becki was struggling to relax, waiting for the hand on her shoulder. She glanced around, guiltily, sure she was receiving disapproving glances from those who actually belonged there.
“More champagne, Madam?”
Becki stared up into the smiling, slightly amused face of an attractive dark haired air hostess, and nodded. “Erm, yes please. In fact, could I have two?”
Flying first class was a new experience to Becki, but one that she was sure she’d get used to. After all, she HAD won 2.4 million pounds….well, a half share, at least. She lifted her glass, admiring the pale bubbles, and raised it above her head. “This one’s for you, Sandra…you earned it”. Lifting the second glass, she stared into its sparkling contents for a few seconds, as if lost in thought. “And this one’s for you Mike…”.
This story has already been featured on my Facebook page (see link below):
I recently realised I was sick to the back teeth of online bulls**t, and all of the motivational, entrepreneurial and digital marketing ‘experts’. I had reached overload, and could not stomach one more word from any of them.
I am not denying that the world of self – help has been of massive help to me. I have worked hard over the years to enlighten and educate myself, and find it difficult to comprehend how so many human beings manage to get through life without ever picking up a self – help book, or listening to a motivational recording. On the other hand, I am aware that self – help can become addictive, and have witnessed many, many individuals becoming junkies…..one seminar, podcast, book, video and audio recording after another and another….without actually doing very much at all with their newly acquired awareness and knowledge. The seeking BECOMES the goal, rather than a means to the goal.
And I have definitely made use of tons and tons of free info, learning how to do technical stuff I could not afford to pay someone else to do for me. I am genuinely grateful for that.
However, all of this can lead to great dissatisfaction, not to mention insanity. On one hand you are told that you need to be strong and powerful, to never give up, to fight for your dreams and your beliefs….to shape, form and create your own future. On the other, you are told that you need to be at peace, to not want or need anything, to only desire it, and let it go. To believe that everything you desire is already yours, and to calmly and happily get on with your life, without giving any of it another thought…and if you do so, it will all become manifest.
On one hand you are told that thought – intention alone is not enough…you have to MAKE things happen. On the other you are told that too much action is interference, and is coming from a place of strain and lack of faith.
And everyone is now a life coach, a marketing expert, an online millionaire in the making. Unless you have the right kind of ‘landing page’, and an emailing list that contains a zillion names, and unless you are putting out webinars, and selling online courses for a couple of thousand dollars/pounds, to a thousand customers, you are nowhere. Unless you know all about social media advertising, and if you aren’t working 20 hours per day on your ‘dream’, you can never be successful. Unless you join the right social networking groups, run by the ‘solopreneurs’ who rub shoulders with the marketing/motivational elite, you aren’t even on the bottom rung.
What is it all really about? Sales, baby. Money. And there is nothing wrong with that. I have worked for years on my own dysfunctional, unrewarding relationship with money and opportunity, a quest in which I have definitely been assisted by massively – paid gurus. I am in business, and I do my best to promote and sell my services to the world. I have big plans that require chunks of cash, and I have the same dreams that other people have….to help my children financially, and to give more to charity. And I want to continue to work on becoming the best possible version of myself. I am just sick to death of being bull – pooped to within an inch of my life! No wonder people don’t enter into this stuff….I almost wish, at times, I had never started (only almost…I wouldn’t really want to lose all of my hard – earned realisations!). The more brown stuff they pile on you, the more they want your cash. The more they schmooze you, the more you know that they need YOU more than you need THEM. The more they harass you, the less they actually care about whether or not their service/product is of any real use to you. The more they tell you about what you need to know, do, be and achieve, and that THEY have the one and only solution (for a hefty fee), the more you know that a million others are queuing up to supply you with exactly the same solution (for an equally hefty fee).
The truth is, the world is a buyer’s market, NOT a seller’s market. The power lies in the hands of the person with a spare few quid, never mind a million.
I don’t mind being sold to, and I do believe in advertising. How else would I know what is out there? People say “If I want a service, I will go out and look for it myself”. This is partly true, but not wholly. Most people don’t have the time, will or energy to really do the research. Motivational/educational self – help IS incredibly important, for anyone who doesn’t just want to survive life, and who wants to develop ongoing self – awareness, and to understand how to live up to their own potential. Online business IS the way to go, in this modern age, but so many are operating from a now completely saturated market. Would – be online zillionaires, who have paid thousands to learn how to sell to other would – be online zillionaires, are so desperate to be heard above the rest, they are drowning in the bulls**t swamp…and many will never emerge again.
Don’t join them. Learn from them. If you are one of the many I have come across who has lost yourself in the wonderful but illusive world of self – help and enlightenment, and yet still feel as if you are struggling, and still seeking, maybe it is time to recognise that you probably know enough right now, and let yourself off the hook. Dip back in every now and then, or stick with one or two people who generally inspire you, without causing you to feel dependent.
And if you are one of the many, many hopeful, but fearful and disheartened ‘trainee’ entrepreneurs I have come across, aspiring to be like your mega – successful heroes or heroines, and secretly feeling as if you are failing horribly, and that you will never know enough, or be enough, or earn enough….get a bull – dozer in, clear the mountain of bulls**t you are struggling to scale, go back to basics, and be yourself. You CAN be successful in YOUR way, and at YOUR speed, and without 90% of the crap you have been told you absolutely NEED to buy! Keep it simple, honest and true, and be consistent….and you will come up smelling of roses, not the other stuff!
Every human being has intuitive capacity! Every single one of us will experience our own intuition at play, many, many times before we leave this world. However, many people still live their lives unaware of this fact, and others write it off as coincidence. Our intuitive capacity remains largely misunderstood, but as the centuries go by, and the human race continues to evolve, this will change!
There are a number of reasons to explain why I do not call myself a psychic. I used to use the term, some years ago, but I was never comfortable with it. I decided that ‘intuitive consultant’ was a much better fit, and more accurate, in line with the service I offer.
Reason 1 is that there is an awful lot wrong with the so – called psychic world (though of course it isn’t all bad), and the way in which is understood and approached. Many times I have been insulted on the internet, by people I have never met or had any communication with, being called a con – artist, a shammer, or one who “preys on the vulnerable”. This is because of the reputation my line of work has attracted, which sadly, isn’t always without cause.
Having worked within the intuitive arena for over 20 years, and having had a wide range of experiences, I am more than aware of the kind of stuff that goes on! I started in the days before the internet played a role in everyday life, and telephone psychics were big business. Every woman’s magazine ran ads for telephone readings, and they were not cheap! Most were £1.50 per minute, charged to the telephone bill, and because there was no upfront payment, a lot of unhappy people were tempted to call and call again, using the service as a emotional crutch, running up massive phone bills in the process.
I really did not enjoy working for these companies, and admit that I did it for the money, eventually quitting for good, when a woman called from a home for abused women, asking not about herself and her children, but her love life. I could no longer validate or encourage self – destructive behaviour, under the guise of ‘psychic’ readings. I became increasingly concerned about the number of people who appeared to be dependent upon the service, and the number of so – called readers who were just not good enough to be employed, or who were out and out con – artists. There were some decent readers, of course, but they were few and far between. Nowadays, the internet has replaced those small ads and those companies, which is a good thing, on the whole.
I have performed hundreds of stage demonstrations, been featured in publications, appeared on radio, and I travelled out to give consultations to groups of customers, several times a week, over a 20 year period. In other words, I have been around the block and back, where my work is concerned!
I retired from travelling out, or giving group bookings, around two years ago. I was becoming increasingly defensive and angry, before I’d even arrived, and so I knew it was time to quit!
And this leads me to reason 2.
I met a lot of really lovely people, who treated me very well. However, I also found myself in some very uncomfortable situations, and at the mercy of some pretty dubious behaviour! On one occasion, as I walked up the path to the front door, I had to pick my way through a bunch of unfriendly women, sitting on the ground, smoking. Not one acknowledged me, or returned my greeting. They were difficult, negative and resistant, throughout their consultations, and because they swapped the cigs for vodka, they were constantly walking backwards and forwards to the toilet, whilst I was trying to work. One of them claimed her mother had paid for her, in advance (not true), and getting my money from the others was difficult. I felt so intimidated, I secretly called my daughter, and kept the phone by my side, until I could get out! The problem was, I really needed the money, and so had to stick it out, leaving myself feeling grubby and violated.
Alcohol was a major issue, where group bookings were concerned. Often it was seen as a ‘girls’ night in’, and the noise would escalate to unreasonable levels. Also, half of the customers would be drunk by the time it was their turn to see me, and impossible to work with! One arrogant young woman stropped in, wine glass in hand, announcing that every psychic she’d seen had told her that if she didn’t like the consultation, she didn’t have to pay….and she assumed the same applied to me. Hell no! This had been a booking for 6 people, but when I arrived I was informed that 3 had dropped out, though no – one had thought to let me know in advance. I had already given two consultations, and of course was not going to agree to give another with no guarantee of being paid….and so I left! I had travelled some distance, and paid for fuel, for the sake of two customers, and to be treated as if I was of no consequence whatsoever. I have a long list of similar horror stories, enough to lead me to begin to dread those journeys, becoming, as I say, reactive and defensive before I had even arrived! Not good.
I also found that a number of those who attended group bookings (not everyone, of course), were of a particular mindset. They were there because their friend had the ‘psychic’ in, and they wanted to see what I could pick up about them. As one woman said, as she plonked herself down in front of me, arms folded across her chest, “Every psychic I’ve ever seen has been able to tell me how many kids I’ve got…can you?” These are not the kind of people who would go to the trouble of booking an appointment with me, and then travel to my home, or pay for an online or phone consultation. They were there for entertainment, and because all they had to do was walk up the road! Reason 2 is that my line of work is often seen as nothing more than entertainment, and completely disrespected. If I called myself a psychic, I was more likely to attract this kind of business, which was soul – destroying. I was really relieved to finally quit the group bookings, and realised that actually, it isn’t an appropriate environment or approach for intuitive guidance. As I said, I met some really lovely people, and I will always be grateful to them. But the loss of income was worth the loss of those who really just wanted a fortune teller, and something to do for fun!
Reason 3 is that there is a tendency for psychics to describe themselves as having a gift of a sixth sense, which suggests that they have something others don’t have. As I said earlier, every human being has intuitive capacity, although that doesn’t mean that everyone can or will become a professional reader/consultant. There is more to being an effective intuitive consultant than initially meets the eye. I have invested years of my life in the development of my intuitive and coaching skills, in self – study, and in the study of the human spirit, emotions and mind. I am still learning, and will be until I take my last breath. An intuitive consultant needs to be able to ‘read’ the customer from the inside out, and not the other way round. They need to be able to highlight the stuff that is hurting or holding the customer back, to be able to outline the different pathways that lie ahead, and to explain why certain things are being expressed. Insight is almost more important than the predictions, in some ways. I have an excellent track record for accurate long – term prediction, but the fact still remains that if we do A one thing will happen, and if we do B another thing will happen. The power of choice always lies in the customer’s hands.
There are those who only want the services of a fortune teller. They don’t want to hear about the potential choices, or the things they probably need to change. They just want to hear something they like the sound of, or doesn’t demand too much from them. That is absolutely fine, of course. However, I have worked hard to prevent myself from being tarred with this brush, as it does not represent the service I offer.
There are those who use science as an argument against the validity of intuitive work, but I believe that a true scientist has an open, massively curious mind, rather than one that is closed. There is so much that science is still trying to figure out, and if you check out YouTube videos on stuff like string theory and black holes, you’ll view and hear about things that are way more outrageous and mind – blowing than any boring old intuitive could come up with! And we didn’t even really know that there was a universe, until 1925, according to a science show I recently listened to on radio 4. I was gobsmacked, and looked it up on the internet. Of course, it wasn’t as simple as saying “Oh, look, there’s the universe”, but still, we learned something huge, less than 100 years ago, that we didn’t know before…..and that is something that is going to happen again and again, thankfully!
There are those who say things like “I only believe what I can see”….well good for you, is my response. I can’t wait to spend time with you, having some great, inspirational conversations…not.
There are those who have never invested one second in the research of the subjects they have so many opinions about, including intuition. They are usually the ones on Facebook For Sale sites, leaving what they believe to be ground – breaking, never – heard – before, caustic comments, after my ads. Oh, we’ll all listen to you, and be influenced by your uneducated views on subjects you have not researched or experienced, and about people you have never met or spoken with…not. And I think that about covers everything I wanted to say, today, on the subject of intuitive work!
Those damned trees keep getting in the way, preventing us from seeing the glory of the woods. And they especially love to do this when we enter into the weird and wonderful world of dating.
I have to tell you, this is something I definitely know about. Around 75% of my customers are seeking an intuitive consultation because of dating/relationship issues, regardless of where they are in the world, regardless of colour, creed or culture. Our biology is the same, our wants, desires and fears are the same. And there are only so many problems that we human beings come up against, only so many ways of reacting, only so many ways of expressing the same stuff that others are trying to express.
Of course, there are always variations, and no story is exactly the same…but if we knew just how many others have experienced what we ourselves are struggling with, we wouldn’t feel so alone, or so undermined, or so full of self – doubt, indignation and frustration!
There are people who meet the ‘one’ without much effort or drama. They give the rest of us hope, whilst also causing us to feel cross….how dare they?? Why is it so easy for them??
Well, their story is theirs, and ours is our own. Their journey is not ours, and there might potentially be something so much better for us, personally, just further down the line. Sometimes we fall into the trap of comparing. We look at where others are at, and then where we are at, and we conclude that we should be where they are. OUR life should be like theirs. When are we ever going to meet the ‘right’ one, and settle down? Why do we always meet the ‘wrong’ person, and why can’t we just find someone to be happy with?
Attraction, dating and romance is tricky stuff, and sometimes we do reach the point at which we can’t see that damned wood for those pesky trees. Sometimes we aren’t helping ourselves, but because the subject of ‘love’ is such a sensitive and highly charged one, we can become ultra – defensive, protecting ourselves against any suggestion that we might need to reassess our own approach. But we shouldn’t feel bad, because developing and nurturing relationships are the biggest challenge any human being will ever face, and we didn’t come into this world with a handbook on the subject. It can be a real learning curve, but there are a few things we can do to help ourselves:
Avoid excessive idealistic thinking and expectations. That doesn’t mean we need to avoid romance, or become cynical…it just means that we need to recognise when we have forgotten that attraction and flirting and lust is not love. It is great, and feels exciting, but it can also create an illusion that cannot stand the test of time. We can enjoy it, but also see right through it…there may or may not be something solid on the other side!
Putting a need for commitment (THE BIG C!) ahead of really taking the time to develop something that will naturally, and without too much discussion, evolve into something mutually supportive, can put too much strain on a developing or slow – moving relationship, and cause us to feel insecure and miserable. I recently asked a very nice and genuine lady, who told me that she wanted a committed, serious relationship (with a guy who was clearly not complying), to specifically define her own version of commitment. I felt that this guy was, in his own way, committed to her, that he did care about her, but that his version of commitment was different to hers. On paper, the relationship was not a great one, but intuitively I felt that it could be different, better, more satisfying…if only it could be approached in a different way. I also asked her why she wanted a ‘serious’ relationship ( a little tongue in cheek, I admit!)….how sexy does THAT sound!
Ignoring the obvious signs and our own inner voice of common sense can be disempowering to us. It can keep us hanging onto a non – relationship that is only serving to undermine our sense of self – worth. We know, deep down inside, when we are being treated dismissively and disrespectfully, even if we pretend not to recognise it. And because we know we are pretending we feel even worse about ourselves, which keeps us hanging on for longer, hoping for a reversal in our favour.
Keeping our ex ‘alive’ in our emotional world, even though deep down inside we know that the relationship is over, and that the problems that led to the break – up remain unresolved, is okay, but it creates and emits an energy that carries the message “I am not free to attract a genuine, mature, mutually supportive relationship, with long – term potential.” We cannot hold the past AND the future in our hands, all at the same time, and we have to remember that regardless of what we say with our mouth, the truth of our inner – world will always dominate, energetically speaking. If we honestly want to move on, we have to move on from the inside out…physically leaving is one thing, but leaving emotionally is another. It can take time, but we CAN do it!
We can seek insight and guidance, from a neutral source, to help us to reassess and re – group, and come up with a new plan of action! As I said, attraction, dating and romance can be difficult to navigate, and we may have developed one or two unhelpful habits that we don’t even recognise. We might have to set aside old beliefs and expectations, we might have to face one or two uncomfortable truths, we might need to draw a straight line and hop over it onto the other side….but the effort will be worth it, and it may not be as difficult as we fear! A smart young woman, who had had a number of consultations with different readers, on the same subject (her ex), told me that something I said had reminded her of a memory she had obviously repressed…a memory that put her ex in a different light. I was intrigued by her response, and her honesty. She had unconsciously edited the past, writing out parts that put a question mark over the relationship, and the way in which she had been remembering it. I have no idea how she will choose to process the ‘newly updated’ version, but suspect that it might be the beginning of a new journey for her.
The desire for genuine love, to be with someone who really wants to be with us, in the real, everyday world, for more than a day, a week or a month, is perfectly natural….but for many it can at times seem to be an impossible quest. We have to be willing to put aside idealistic thinking, and defensive, fearful reaction, and get down to the bottom line. Problems with attraction, dating and romance require the same kind of approach that other problematic areas of our life demand. We can really USE our head where work and finances and practical stuff is concerned, but LOSE it where romantic love is concerned!
I can definitely help to sort through the fog, and provide insights, guidance and prediction, whilst the customer has to be willing to take stock, readjust where necessary, and do some emotional decluttering….allowing room for growth, and even the totally new!
Click onto the consultations page to see my latest listing: Your Love Life!
There have been a couple of events recently that created a few ripples in my life, and unsettled my thinking. I felt as if I had been sucked back in time to a not so good place, and I felt myself sinking.
However, my conscious awareness was enough to keep my head above the water, and I paddled furiously until I could feel solid ground beneath my feet again. You see, I have worked hard, for a very long time, to develop my thinking, so that it works for me and not against me. And the sudden ripples that came along to rock my boat gave me an opportunity to test my life – sailing skills….would I wrestle with the helm and get back on course, or be capsized? Well, I’m still afloat, and still heading towards my chosen destination, which shows that my efforts have been worth it, and I have genuinely learned something!
However, the journey continues. There will still be stormy seas ahead, in between periods of calm, and bursts of full – steam – ahead sailing. For you, as well as for me. Of course, it’s going to depend upon whether we choose to hang around the dock, or only navigate the shallow waters, or whether we head out onto the big, wide ocean. We can learn to become a first class sailor, and then the captain, of the vessel of our own life, if we are willing to weather the storms that will occasionally rise up from the depths, or descend from the heavens.
I didn’t want to sink into the “what’s the point?” mentality. I didn’t want to slip back into that place of paranoia, taking everything personally, and transmitting a repellent energy. I knew that no good could possibly come of it, and the effort I’d made over the years would have mostly been for nothing. I heard myself thinking, and I felt my body responding to my thoughts and emotions, and when I realised I had no energy…that i just wanted to curl up and ignore the world…I grabbed myself by the scruff of my own neck, kicked my own butt, and said “think again!”
And think again I did, but not positively. I thought productively. Positive thinking is easy when life is hunky dory, when things aren’t too bad. Positive thinking is almost impossible when it feels as if the bottom has dropped out of your world, or that a giant sized poop has been deposited upon it. At such times positive thinking feels feigned, strained, false even. Productive thinking, on the other hand, offers the potential for solutions, and of a sense of control. It doesn’t remove the problem, or instantly fix it, but it does act as leveller, and gives a bit of breathing space, the chance to keep things in perspective. And let’s face it, when we are emotionally and mentally upset, one of the first things to abandon ship is perspective.
So, what does productive thinking sound like? I will try and explain.
I said earlier that I felt I had been sucked back in time, but of course I hadn’t been, in the real, physical sense. It was my mind that was re – living parts of the past I would definitely never want to return to, and it was my mind that produced a set of emotions that really upset and unsettled me. These emotions led me to an action that may or may not be entirely helpful, and complicated the situation. However, it gave me an opportunity to ask myself a very important question: “What can I do with these memories? They have obviously been occupying a particular place in my inner world, but have now been rooted out and disturbed. They cannot simply be pushed back into the same old corner, so what do I intend to do with them?”
I knew that they weren’t simply going away, and I knew that I could choose to allow them to disempower me….or I could consciously choose to face them anew, and find a more relevant place in my life for them. I couldn’t just hope that they’d vanish, allowing me to return to the way I was a few days ago, and I knew I didn’t want that. What would be the point? Life was obviously attempting to give me an opportunity to lessen the load, to tidy it up a bit, and make it easier to transport.
And there is something else. My current life is built upon my past, and the way in which I used to respond to things. What better than one of the darkest times of my life to test how far I have progressed? What actually happened mattered less than how I responded when I was faced with the memory and the feeling of it, in the here and now. As I am typing this, I suddenly realise that maybe unconsciously I felt I needed to revisit this experience as part of my ongoing development and growth. Maybe it was always going to surface, at the most appropriate time and place, because I myself, again unconsciously, had placed it on the agenda. Maybe it takes a real tough soul to be willing to face her sea – monsters every now and then along the way, until they become weakened enough to be conquered! And if I can deal with this, and make sense of it, the everyday stuff pales in comparison, becoming so much more manageable. And the big goals seem less intimidating, and more easily achievable!
I suppose that positive thinking is to productive thinking what reacting is to responding. They are at opposite ends of the their spectrum, and both can serve a purpose….but one comes from the need to survive, and the other from the desire to survive AND flourish! My work, and my life, has become about the latter, and what is good for me is good for my customers!#positivethinkingisn’tenough
Hey Leanne, what exactly IS a poor abundance mentality?
Thank you so much for asking…and you know what’s going to happen next, don’t you? I’m going to tell you (or at least explain my own version of it)!
Abundance isn’t just about money. It’s about opportunity, and being open to to receiving as well as giving.
A poor abundance mentality (let’s call it PAM for short!) is not hidden…we can’t pretend we don’t have it. It can be seen and felt by others, even if they aren’t aware that it has a title. It reveals itself through how we speak, how we behave…how we look, even. Its roots are connected to our past, and it is a part of our programming (every last one of us become programmed as a result of our life experiences, and the way in which we process them), and it is often tied up with our sense of self – worth and value. However, it is entirely possible to appear to be confident and brave, and still have a PAM. The good news is that, once we become aware that we are responding to the world with a PAM, by applying conscious and ongoing effort, we can change it.
My PAM definitely had its roots in my childhood, and over the years it gathered strength, gaining a pretty formidable strangle – hold. It revealed itself through the fact that I was always struggling for money, no matter how hard I worked. Through my increasing bargain – basement attitude. Through my sometimes self – destructive behaviour. Through unconscious acts of self – sabotage. Through the willingness to put up with endless amounts of crap, almost proud of my capacity to survive. I was flattered when others commented on how resourceful I could be, not recognising that I wouldn’t have to BE so resourceful if I healed my PAM!
However, I didn’t resonate with others who were also stuck in the PAM trap. I had noticed that some people who were skint and struggling often related to and identified with those in the same position, creating an ‘us and them’ divide. They’d separate themselves from anyone who was doing well, as if financial comfort and success was just a matter of luck, and only for the chosen few who weren’t averse to ruthless and dubious practices. I didn’t want to think that way, or be one of those people. But still, digging out the roots of old, programmed beliefs has been quite a task!
So, how do you know if you are approaching life with a poor abundance mentality? Take a look at the list, below, and if more than a couple of points resonate with you, you may want to ask yourself if there is room for improvement! I can tell you with hand on heart that many of these have been more than familiar to me over the years, and I am making no judgements!
This is not an exhaustive list, and is not in any particular order, by the way:
1) You consistently worry about losing your security, even though there is no real reason to believe that you will become destitute!
2) You are dissatisfied with your job, but still fear losing it or changing it.
3) You are in debt, and and believe you will never be free of it, unless you win the lottery.
4) You believe that your debt is not your fault, and that it is easier for others NOT to be in debt.
5) You spend on things that don’t/won’t actually enhance your life, because they make you feel better for a short period of time, rather than on something that would be an investment in your future. You are in constant survival mode.
6) You say things like “Why do footballers/rock stars/actors get paid more than doctors, nurses and teachers?” You don’t recognise that the reason footballers, racing drivers, rock stars, actors, reality tv celebs etc receive more money than the rest of us is because zillions of people pay to see them perform, AND buy their associated products by the wagon load. You yourself are probably funding some of these people, even if you have only bought a named football shirt for your child, or paid for concert tickets, or bought a dvd, or a celeb perfume. Anyone’s star can suddenly fall, and often does. Footballers get dropped, singers are cut loose by their record label, actors appear in fewer and fewer films, celeb perfumes are sold off for less than a tenner, and so many copies of 50 Shades Of Grey end up in charity shops that they have to put up signs saying ‘NO MORE!’
7) You say things like “There are no jobs out there” or “I have reached the limit of what I am able to achieve at work, and there is nowhere else I can go” accepting it as absolute, irrefutable fact.
8) You hang around the reduced food section, or make a bee – line for it every time you shop.
9) You ask friends and family how much they spent on this or that, judging them or envying them, feeling either superior because they have no common sense, or feeling depressed because they can splash the cash you can’t.
10) You regularly feel lesser than those who always seem to have the money for leisure and pleasure.
11) You often indignantly ask “HOW can they afford to live the way they do?”
12) You feel guilty over every penny you spend, especially when it’s on yourself.
13) You assume that anyone who ‘makes it’ in life had it easy.
14) You believe that only those with a full education can become successful and financially comfortable.
15) You assume that anyone who is ambitious and creates success has an excessive amount of confidence, and never experiences anxiety, self – doubt or fear.
16) You believe that you don’t have what it takes, and so what’s the point in raising your own hopes and expectations?
17) You identify with those around you who are happy enough to be unhappy enough, and you buy into their reasoning!
18) You allow a fear of failure and of letting other people down to dictate what you do and don’t do, not realising that every successful person has failed, at the very least once, and probably several times, along the pathway toward their achievement.
19) You stick with a limited routine, day in, day out.
20) You don’t seek out new information or experiences, saying that you don’t have time to watch something educational on YouTube, or read a book that informs/inspires you…because you are too busy with your familiar routine.
21) You believe that because there are people on the planet who are living in abject poverty, you have no right to need or want more than it takes to scrape by…not realising that your struggle doesn’t put one ounce of food on their plates, or answer their medical/educational needs.
22) You say things like “Money doesn’t buy happiness” when you have never had enough to know whether or not that is true. You cite the screwed up, dysfunctional celebs as evidence, forgetting the millions of people who DO have money, and are clearly happy and functional!
23) You believe you will change, and become one of ‘them’ (the ruthless, dubious lot) if you have any degree of wealth and success.
24) You buy lottery or raffle tickets, whilst saying “I never win anything”, or you believe that a lottery win is your only way forwards, becoming more downhearted and frustrated every time you don’t have a win.
25) You only ever shop in charity and discount shops, and say things like “I could get that for a £1 elsewhere!”
So, there they are, 25 signs that you may be struggling with a poor abundance mentality (and I am pretty sure that there are many others I haven’t included)! One sign that I haven’t included is defensiveness….a quick reaction, defending and justifying our position! The “I have ACTUAL reasons for my life being this way, thank you very much, that have nothing to do with me!” Been there and done that.
So, how do we get beyond good old PAM? Well, that’s a whole new story, in its own right. However, I will say that we can start by acknowledging that we WANT to change, and then by taking the first step, dealing with one misbelief at a time, and engaging in activities that inform and inspire us, that are an investment in our own future. Self – help, guidance from those who are in the know, association with people who aren’t bogged down in PAM, life coaching…anything that causes us to think anew, and see beyond the old restrictive boundaries!#abundance