It's Kind of a Long Story... about THE PSYCHIC

I wish this medium was rare.

Hey Drama Goblins!

Ironically, last week’s post about travel didn’t really go anywhere.

I was pressed for time, had just returned from a trip, and hoped that as I wrote an overall story would emerge from the anecdotes. It didn’t.

It felt flat when I wrote it. A kind reader let me know it felt flat when she read it.

What can I tell ya? I’m committed to weekly posting and they’re not all gonna be gems.

At some point there will be a Part II, but only when there’s truly a point.

Thank you for stickin’ with me when the posts are less than my best.

This week’s story is one I originally told on stage in 2019 as part of the Previously Secret Information series. I’d never done anything like that before. Since then I’ve told it to friends, but it’s been a secret from Max before now. I’m proud and grateful he’s given me permission to tell it, and relieved he now knows it.

Remember, you are only as sick as your secrets.

I’m so glad you’re here,

-Lara

Let Me Blow Ya Mind

Short story: 

My grief counselor referred me to a psychic medium. Despite my skepticism, I went. It was bullshit.

Long story:

“Hey Momza, can you call me? It’s urgent”

That was the text I got Friday, January 8, 2016 around 9:00pm Eastern Time from my then 16 year old son Max.

The text of that text tells you a lot about the kind of kid my Max is. It starts, “Hey Momza.” Casual. Ordinary. Using the name he’s had for me since he was little. “Momza.” His dad was “Da Papaz.” But, it ends “it’s urgent.” Max is not a dramatic kid. I’m not really one for astrology, but the kid is textbook Libra. The Balance. So even-keeled and level-headed. If he says something is urgent it is.

I called back immediately and a strange voice picked up the phone, “Mrs. Starr, this is Officer Something. I’m sorry to tell you that your husband has died.”

John Starr, the man I had been with since I was an 18-year-old college freshman had had a heart attack. Less than a minute ago I was at a work function in a hotel ballroom in Boston surrounded by a hundred work colleagues and friends and now I was sitting on a bench in the middle of an empty hallway. A widow at age 46.

I was very fortunate that over the next few hours, days, weeks, and months. I was surrounded by love and support. And for the most part, I did pretty well. Max and I settled into new routines. I learned to ask for help when I needed it.

Me and Max in Central Park about a month after John died. I wanted us to have something to look forward to. My cousin was performing at Carnegie Hall and my mom was there and we met up with old friends. I’m so glad we did it.

But, remember, this was 2016. And after the election, I did kind of go into a tailspin. I was not alone - therapist’s phones were ringing off the hook on November 9th. I was so shaken, so angry, that my mom even had to quit Facebook for a bit because my posts were starting to worry her. I’d pushed down a lot of my grief and channeled a lot of that energy into the election. And after it exploded, so did I

I discussed my anger with a colleague, and she knew someone who had used the services at Hospice of the Bay. “She went to a counselor after her cat died, which you know, isn’t the same thing, but it really helped her.” I signed on for their 12-month grief counseling program.

Grief counselor Kristin was awesome. I really connected with her

At the first session, she asked me about my belief in the afterlife. I said I didn’t really have any. I don’t have a faith tradition. But, I do believe there are things we don’t know, and I am kind of superstitious.

I pick up pennies.

I don’t throw away pictures of babies.

I have “lucky” earrings.

Kristen told me she did. She believes in the spirit life and can feel the presence of those who have died. She said she’d understand if I didn’t want to work with her, if she was too “woo-woo,” but she wanted to be open about her perspective. I really liked her and felt an easy rapport. She was young and funny, super easy to talk to and intuitive. I said I was OK continuing.

She often mentioned in sessions that she felt John’s presence. I never did, but I believed she believed it. And if I’m honest, a part of me believed she did too.

I mean, I’ve felt the thing move...

The 12 months we worked together were great. She helped me through a crazy year. I started dating. I started dating Cris, who at the time seemed very promising. I took a somewhat impulsive trip to Tokyo. Max came out and started a relationship with a young man who was also very promising. He got into a good college, graduated from high school, and moved into the dorms. My nest was empty. I lived alone for the first time in my life. My promising man and I broke up. And got back together.

Kristin helped me through all of this complicated grief. The narrative is “I lost the love of my life. I’ll never be happy again. I miss him every day. I keep picking up the phone to call him. I keep expecting him to walk in the room” It’s the story people want to be true, and for the most part, I let them have it. It’s just.. easier. But the truth was my husband struggled in almost every area of his life. With his physical health. And mental health. With addiction. With his dreams. With depression and disappointment. He’d experienced a lot of trauma growing up and thought he was owed more for his suffering than life gave him. That tortured him. He talked about his own death a lot. He didn't think he’d make it to 50. He did by a few months.

I didn’t understand how much I needed someone to tell the whole truth of what I was feeling. I spent a lot of our marriage protecting him. Coming between him and the world. I did that for him in death too. It was my responsibility as his widow. The last service I could do for him. To honor his memory by crafting it carefully. It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the whole truth. And it was exhausting. I needed a valve, and Kristen was a great one. I trusted her. I respected her. She was just what I needed when I needed it and I was very grateful.

After the 12-month program was up, I felt ready to go forward without our monthly sessions. Things were looking good. Max was off at college, I had a good job, and Cris and I were planning a trip to Europe. I told her, “I have no idea where the trajectory of any of this is going, but I’m feeling up for the ride.”

And for a while I was. I was steady behind the wheel. But, inevitably, I hit some speed bumps and I sent out the Bat Signal for Kristen to help me get over them. The promising man and I broke up. And got back together. I worried about how my son was doing at school, and I had some challenges on the work front.

During a particularly rough patch work-wise, I once again flashed the signal. We had a good, long talk, and like no one else in my life, Kristen really heard me.

My confidence had been shaken and… like anyone who has experienced grief, new grief triggers old grief. And grievances. I ended the session admitting I hadn’t always been patient with my husband’s career struggles, and that I wondered what he would think of the situation I’d found myself in (or put myself in depending on how you look at it)

As always, Kristen was wise and reassuring. Her belief was that in the afterlife, they think everything is hilarious. I didn’t feel that, but it gave me comfort to think it. But I couldn’t shake the guilt. The John Starr I knew in this world would not think this was hilarious. I said I’d never “felt” John the way other people describe feeling their loved ones. She said, “It’s possible you don’t recognize feeling him because his spirit is at peace and he’s so different than he was when he was here.” That actually made… sense?

I’m down for a hilarious afterlife.

She also said, “He spends a lot of time with Max.” Without thinking I blurted out, “I believe that.” I did believe it. There was no more devoted father than John Starr and he and Max were very close. Being a father was his true life’s work. I know how proud he’d be of his son, and also… also… I know how much Max leaving for school might have devastated him. A lot of his purpose would have gone down to Santa Cruz with the boy.

I wasn’t surprised Kristen said he’s hanging out with Max. I had a clear vision of John standing behind him in his dorm room. Standing over him as he was sitting at his desk. I saw it clear as day. I believed it.

Kristen asked me she’d ever suggested a medium. A medium? I mean, I knew she believed in that stuff, but she’d never suggested I see a medium. “Well, that was remarkable restraint on my part.” she said

Kristen said she’d trained with this woman, Kay, and that Kay was very gifted. She had had a near-death experience and emerged with the ability to connect with those who are “in spirit.” Kay was skeptical when this happened to her. She’d never had “woo-woo” experience before, but she could not deny her gift. Kristen said it doesn’t matter if you believe it or not, the reading is legit. “I think she’ll blow your mind.”

I would like to have my mind blown. I was a ball of emotion and doubt and curiosity and hope and I had NO BUSINESS spending money on a freakin’ MEDIUM but I could not shake the feeling that this was something I wanted to do.

As my job was coming to an end I wanted to embrace every experience and opportunity that came my way. I wanted to be open. I wanted to be curious. I wanted to have good stories to tell. And if I’m honest with myself I wanted to finish the unfinished business with John. I wanted to “feel’ him. I wanted to hear that he was at peace. I wanted him to tell me from the other side that everything was going to be OK.

So… I made the appointment. I did a little snooping around and couldn’t find much. Kay the Medium had a few decent Yelp reviews. She’d self-published a book. She’d trained with James Van Praagh, who some of you might remember had his turn as Psychic du Jour somewhere between Sylvia Browne and the Long Island Medium. Her blog hadn’t been updated since 2016. She wore ethnic jewelry. She had 19 Twitter followers.

As the appointment approached I was… hopefully skeptical? Skeptically hopeful? In my head thought I was being ridiculous and kept my expectations low. My heart really wanted this experience to be meaningful. I wanted my mind blown.

I started to have an uneasy feeling as as soon as I got to her building. It’s one of those 1970s therapy suites that are all over Marin. A little shabby. A little sad. Droopy plants in the corners. Back issues of Vegetarian Times on wicker tables. I know psychics don’t work like “Tell me the lottery numbers” but I was hoping someone so gifted would give off a more prosperous vibe. I was hoping I’d feel at ease and in good hands with someone very confident in their skills.

It could have been worse

Her look did not engender confidence either. She was short. Squat. Thinning hair. Those ethnic earrings I’d seen on her website. A sweatshirt. Sandals. She was certainly… comfortable. Bordering on sloppy. Her look didn’t give me confidence. But, maybe she’s so confident in her gifts she doesn’t have to dress to impress. “I’m going to blow your mind, and I’m going to do it in Birkenstocks.”

She explained the first session of the reading will be a message from my Spirit Guides. I have no idea what the hell that means. She said “spirit” but I hear “sprite” and I’m picturing little green, glowing fairies fluttering around me. But I’m still open to this experience.

Kay opened up a spiral notebook in which she’d written several pages of notes. I couldn't see quite what they are. But I could tell that they are a bit… sporadic? Lines of text. Some swoopy loops. Arrows. A few things are underlined and circled. In retrospect, I should have asked her for them, or at least asked to look at them.

She tells me The Spirit Guides want what’s best for me. They want success for me. They have confidence I can do whatever I want and achieve my dreams, I’m just too hard on myself.

At this point, my stomach sank. This shizz had all the depth and specificity of a fortune cookie, and this was her opening line?

Kay said the Spirit Guides were showing her a W. My life was in a state of going up and down. Um… yeah. It’s called… life? It has ups and downs, and I’m guessing most of the people seeking your services are currently on a downward slope of the W

She asked me several questions prompted by the message from the spirit guides. If I had known then that I’d be telling this story I would have written them down. I can’t remember what all of them were, but I can remember shaking my head and answering “No” to most of them.

When I brought up the next phase of my career and my plans, she suggested I meet with people I know and talk about my skills and interests and “It might not be that there’s a job on the table, but down the line they may know someone who knows someone and that could lead you to where you’re mean to me.” Um… yeah. I know what networking is and how it works. I told her I worked as a producer and guest booker at KGO radio and she suggested I contact Bay Area Backroads, a TV show that hasn’t been on the air since 2009. I was starting to get irritated with unsolicited and decidedly terrestrial career advice when I was paying for “woo-woo” when she launched into a pitch for The Law of Attraction.

From The Law of Attracrion.com:

“Law of Attraction is the ability to attract into our lives whatever we are focusing on. In basic terms, all thoughts turn into things eventually. If you focus on negative doom and gloom you will remain under that cloud. If you focus on positive thoughts and have goals that you aim to achieve you will find a way to achieve them with massive action.

The Law of Attraction dictates that whatever can be imagined and held in the mind’s eye is achievable if you take action on a plan to get to where you want to be.

This is some insidious mumbo jumbo. The Law of Attraction places all of the blame for anything you don’t achieve at the feet of your own inability to attract it with positive thoughts. Racism, sexism, systematic inequality, variables in talent, drive, circumstance, and opportunity are dismissed. If you are not achieving, it is your own thoughts that are causing it, but luckily there are a whole host of workshops, books, and “practitioners” who can help you, but if they don’t it’s not their fault, it’s you and your negativity.

“Would you be interested in exploring the Law of Attraction?” Kay asks me, “Um… I guess?” I mumbled. I was too shocked and overwhelmed by how odd this was going to say much else.

The next part of the reading was supposed to be the messages from John. This is why I’m here. This is gonna be the good stuff. Get ready to be blown, mind!

Kay says, “John wants to say ‘hello’ to everybody.”

Hello? He’s been dead for 2 years after a sudden heart attack and is summoned through this stumpy hippie and the first thing he has to say for himself is “Hello” to “everybody.” That’s his opener? Say what you want about John Starr, but he had much more flair for the dramatic than that

Kay said that those “in spirit” often present specific body parts. She said he was focused on his stomach and hands, did that mean anything? Umm… no. The parts of his body that were meaningful in his life we his mouth and throat, he was a voice-over actor, and his back, which was broken in an accident when he was 14. That experience and the trial that followed and the lifetime of pain-management that followed were at the core of who he was and how he lived his life. If she’d said “mouth, throat or back” my mind wouldn’t have been blown, but I would have sat up in my seat. But as it was, I just slunk back into the chair.

She said she was seeing laces, laced up shoes. Was he into tennis shoes? Collecting shoes? Umm… no. He did have a pair boots that had laces he liked but it’s not like they were his prized possession or that they had any real meaning for him or that for all of the unfinished business he left this world with the thing he’d want to talk about was shoes.

She asked about someone “in spirit” with a name that starts with M. “Michael? Mitchell? Martin?” Um… my Uncle Marty? “Yes, it must be Marty.” “What about him?” “He’s there in spirit with John.” Yeah. I knew Uncle Marty was dead. That’s not a newsflash.

I love this photo of my Uncle Marty and Aunt Ruthy disco-dancing at their 25th anniversary party. I don’t have any photos of him and John together. I think they only met 2 or 3 times.

She asked several more questions I can’t recall, but I can recall saying, “No. No. Umm. no” to most of them.

Kay said that those “in spirit” often reveal themselves to us through… birds. If you see or hear a bird, it may be your loved one connecting with you. Birds? Could you pick something more ubiquitous?

Also electronics. If electronics fail or act weird, that can be the work of those “in spirit.” So, every time you restart Windows, you can say, “Oh grandma! I see you!”

“He says he’s with you when you’re sad. Every time you cry, he’s there.”

“I haven’t cried.”

That gets a big-eyed stare.

“I mean, I’ve shed tears, and I’ve gotten choked up a few times, but I haven’t had ‘a cry.’ I don’t cry.”

“Oh, um… well… he means he’s there for you when you’re thinking of him.” ‘

Umm ‘K Kay.

Then she starts to get all skittish. A little fluttery. “This is something he said. This is his word. I’d never use this word. I’m conveying his message.” He said… “Sometimes he could be an asshole, and he’s sorry.” And then she kind of hides her head, thoroughly ashamed of having said the “a” word. My two immediate thoughts were

1) I can’t believe this grown woman is blushing and skittering about saying the word “asshole”

2) now we’re getting somewhere.

This was the one part of the reading that rang true. That didn’t feel like either a fortune cookie or grasping at straws. And yet…

Yes, he could be an asshole. But… isn’t everybody from time to time? Especially everybody in a long-term marriage? I know I am.

And, the John Starr I knew wouldn’t have said “asshole.” He would have said “dick.”

“There’s something about a child. Do you have a child together?” If I wasn’t sure this was all BS before. I was goddamn sure now. Say what you want about John Starr, but there was never a more devoted father. Being a dad was his true life’s work. His calling. It was Max who found him. He came home from school and found him cold in his bed and he tried to do CPR and he called 911 and I wasn’t there and if there is anything in this world I would do to take that experience away from him I would.

In the time since John died Max has made me proud in a million ways I’m so sorry John didn’t get to see.

There is no way the John Starr I knew when given the chance to communicate from the great beyond wouldn't have had something very specific to say to Max. Not “a child” we “might” have had. His child. His son. His Max.

And there’s another topic on which John Starr was surprisingly quiet. Cris was still very much in the picture. In his lowest moments, when he talked about his own death he’d say, “You will find someone else.” The way I was with Cris was very different than the way I was with John. A lot of that has to do with my own maturity. John and I met when I was 18 and he was 21 we had a lot of unrealistic expectations about relationships and each other. We weren’t always kind. We weren’t always generous. The John Starr I knew would be an infuriating mix of smug, “See, I told you you’d find someone” and really pissed of that I could show up for Cris in ways I couldn’t for him.

By this time the hour I’d paid for was coming to an end and I was thoroughly disgusted with myself for ever thinking this was a good idea. For ever hoping that any of this could possibly be true. That my mind might be blown. Kay asked me if I had any questions, but I was so depleted I couldn’t think of any. I left the office, got in my car, and sunk into the seat feeling like a first-class fool.

A week or so later, John Oliver did a story on mediums and the practice of cold reading. Watching the psychics on his show, my mind was finally blown. The tactics they used were exactly like my reading with Kay. General statements that could apply to anyone. Wrong answers quickly dismissed. The good probability everyone knows someone with the letter M in their name who has died. It makes me angry and sad that there are people in so much pain, in so much need for connection, that they will believe what these charlatans tell them. I understand how it can feel so real if you really want it to.

I know, I wanted it to.

How woo-woo are you? I would love to know about your experience with psychics or ghosts, and your beliefs about the the afterlife.

Lara sez…

Listen!

80s Deep Cut of the Week! The name of the cheeky teen girl group’s signature song is a riff on Roxy Music’s Love is the Drug, but the similarities end there.

Read!

I was so engrossed by Andrew Smith’s Grasshopper Jungle I missed my bus stop

Follow!

Live from Snacktime! Out of the mouths of babes…

Watch!

I watched Priscilla on a plane recently and loved it. A gorgeous, perceptive and necessary telling of the Presley’s relationship from her perspective.

Eat!

This isn’t marketed as a light dressing, but Newman’s Own Sesame Ginger Dressing only has 35 calories a 2-tablespoon serving. It doesn’t taste like a light dressing either. It’s delicious! I use it to make a quickie Chinese Chicken Salad with lettuce, chicken, and slivered almonds.

Before I let you go…

If you’d like to see me perform the story you just read, click here

And here