Well, this is a story all about how my life got flipped, turned upside down…It was a Thursday. For reasons unknown at the time, I was anxious. I don't know the time, and I can't quite remember the date, but I haven't been the same since.
When COVID-19 hit, and the entire world changed, my room became my office–and well–my room. I'd woken up a cool 15 minutes before my shift, brushed my teeth, made breakfast during the daily conference call, and pretended I cared about phone issues for a couple hours. Most of the workday was spent in personal mode or some other bullshit mode to work on "callbacks," aka spend an hour on something that would generally take about 20 minutes. Mundane tasks grew colossal by the minute. I checked my time. PTO was closed for the day, but I had emergency time to take, so I took it. After checking in with my work bestie, I was out. I made a dash for the car, dressed in leggings and some form of a t-shirt. Foggy glasses sat on the bridge of my nose.
A Little About Me
During one of my many personal breaks, I checked the schedule for my psychic advisor. Her last opening was at 4:30. I don’t know what time I arrived, but I made it. Tara was dressed in a flowy skirt…it was June…maybe July. Either way, it was hot. Her red hair sat on her shoulders in natural beach waves. She lit a small stick of Palo Santo to clear the air. My anxiety subsided, and I let it out. I'm in therapy, slightly depressed (the brunt of it had started to dissipate), and I don't know what to do. She laid crystals, consulted the pendulum, pulled cards, and witches runes. We talked about my family, love life, etc. I knew my sacral chakra was blocked before she told me. My therapist and I had talked about it the week prior. I needed some excitement in my life.
“Have you thought about using your gift to deliver messages?”-she asked.
“Well, I write but not as much as I would like to.”
She meant deliver messages from the other side. By the other side, she meant dead people. Like the Sixth Sense, but I was very much alive. I knew I had a gift, and to be honest, I'd been waiting on some dead person to walk in my room and talk to me, but I was scared as hell. She gave me a piece of paper and a pen and gave me methods to protect myself. I declared that only messages for my greatest and highest good were welcomed, and I wrote. Nothing came. She told me to close my eyes and tell her what I saw. I saw a cat. I immediately thought my mind was playing tricks on me, and I was ready to give up and go. Tara wasn't having it.
“What does the cat look like it?”
It was orange…slightly red. It looked like a tiger, but I didn't want to sound stupid, so I kept that tidbit to myself. The images continuously flowed. I saw a house. More bullshit, I thought. It was a traditional house– you know– with a porch, shutters, and a fence that wrapped around the back. A man was standing in the doorway. I couldn't see his face, but his hair had a very distinct flip in the front and his shadow was practically vivid. Then I saw a tin can, and opened my eyes. Tara was showing me pictures.
Is this the cat? That was it. Was this the house? Nope. This one? Omg yes! Is this the man? Nope. This one? Yes! He was her son. I was floored. Well, what is this tin can? She told me that everything isn't always black and white and guided me through my next journey.
Can you touch the can? Yes. I flipped it, and the can turned into a tunnel. W-T-entire-F. Ask if there is a light. A mini light appeared, and I made my way down the narrow, dimly lit tunnel. There was a party, but the voice in my head said,“Nah." I couldn't go, and I didn't know why but I knew the party was for some woman named Diane and I knew Diane's father was sending the message - from the other side. When the message was clear, and there was nothing more, I opened my eyes again. Diane was Tara's aunt, and Diane's father, George, was her grandfather. Diane's birthday was coming up, and she had plans to fly to Wilmington. Of course, COVID put a halt to that, so a party was thrown for her up north–somewhere near New York. George was telling Tara not to go. We didn't know how serious this thing was just yet, but George did.
It sounds insane. Trust me, the feeling was beyond that. During the whole ordeal, I was very present, yet very much in another world. I felt powerful. I was grateful to George. I was ready to take on the world and learn all I can. You know, read minds and shit. My destination was unknown…it still kind of is but eventually, it led me back here. I wanted to continue my blog, but focusing solely on fashion would do me a disservice. The world says I need a niche. I say I don’t. So welcome to Shauna Madonna – a lifestyle blog. I'm covering everything from spirituality, fashion, beauty, culture, wellness, etc. Need advice? I got that too. General Tarot messages? Yep. Psychic readings? It's gonna cost you.
I’m excited to be back. To be free. To share this journey with you. It took a while to find comfort with the "witch" term, but I think "Tonka the Good Witch" has a nice ring to it ;) It's still a little weird, but a stranger told me I'd flourish once I accept who I am. So, this witch is outta the closet, baby, and ready to ride.