So, I was just now thinking about psychics.
I’m not sure why, I read something completely not related to psychics. Of course, my brain decided to make a sharp left without telling me.
Anyway, I thought “Wouldn’t a valuable psychic ability be to be able to channel a person’s anxiety into a human voice? That would be amazing.
You’d go to this anxiety psychic and ask your anxiety questions and get answers back in a different voice than the one in your head.”
Since anxiety psychics aren’t a real thing, I went ahead and made one up for us. I wanted to play this out and see what we are missing by not having anxiety psychics.
Our psychic, Janell, doesn’t have a dark little room with beads, candles, and tarot cards. Janell is an elderly Appalachian woman who sits at a Formica kitchen table and channels anxiety. Janell is not a mental health professional and couldn’t give two shits about your anxiety. She merely passes along messages for $75. an hour.
Me: Soooo, how does this work?
Janell: Well, first you pay me. Then, go ahead and ask your anxiety whatever you want to ask. If you don’t get any answers, I’ll give you back your money.
Me: Does that happen often?
Janell: Not even once.
Janell: I used to be a regular psychic, but then my grandson left weed out in his bedroom. I was going to bust his ass for it, but then I decided to try it. And do you know what? Dead people don’t talk to me anymore. I suspect that is because there’s no weed in the afterlife and they’re pissed about it. Then I started hearing people’s anxiety. You’d think it would be upsetting, but it’s just interesting. People are fucked up.
Me: So, that’s why you are smoking weed now?
Janell: Yes, I have to smoke a little weed before I can hear anxiety speaking to me.
Me: Do I ask you the questions and then you ask her? I’m not sure what to do here.
Janell: Just ask. When I talk, I will be speaking for your anxiety.
Me: Okay. Got it. I guess.
Me: Ask anxiety why she’s so mad at me.
Janell: Did she not just tell you to ask the question directly? Can you follow one simple instruction? It was one instruction, Michelle. Seriously.
Me: Yeah, okay. So, why are you so mad at me?
Janell: Why did you refer to me as “her”? So, anxiety is automatically female? Is that what you are saying? Why would you even think that?
Me: I assumed, I guess, because I’m a woman that my anxiety would be a woman.
Janell: Do you know what a good person would do? A good person at least try to stop using gender specific pronouns. Do you even try?
Me: I mean, probably not. I’ve been used to saying her and his and him and she for decades now. I guess I got used to it. But, you are right. I should try harder.
Janell: While we are on the topic of you being a traitor to your gender…
Me: I didn’t know we were on that topic.
Janell: Don’t interrupt. It’s rude. Do you think you could try being a “listen” person instead of a “wait to talk” person for an hour? You are paying for this, you know.
Me: Okay, listening.
Janell: Have you considered not calling your best friend a whore mouth at least a dozen times every time you see her? Using those derogatory terms hurts all women. All of them. Yet what do you do? You talk a good feminist game, but aren’t you really just a part of the problem?
Me: Can I ask a different question?
Janell: It’s your money. You know, the money you could have used to pay your cell phone bill.
Janell: And it’s your business if you want to continue to avoid some basic self-examination. Really.
Me: What about work. I mean, would it be so hard for you to just ease up a little?
Janell: About work, there’s no point in asking questions. You suck.
Me: Yeah, but what about..
Janell: Nope. No. No point in asking. It doesn’t matter if you ask about performance, expectations, whether or not people like you. You suck. Next question.
Me: So that’s it? Nothing more about work?
Janell: At this point, I think you should be asking about being annoying or perhaps just dense.
Janell: I’m going to ask you a question.
Me: Is that how this works?
Janell: Don’t confine me. I want to ask why you are so inconsiderate. Did you think about this woman here? Answering your questions? Maybe she’s hungry. Did you think to bring her a snack cake? An ice cream sandwich? A soda and some chips? No. No you didn’t because you’re self-centered.
Me: Hey. Wait. You’re just high as balls.
Janell: That’s fair. Still, just a snack cake.
Me: Why do I have to worry about what is going on in our government and the state of the world all the time? Can’t I get just a little break?
Janell: Are you fucking kidding me right now? A break? We don’t get breaks from tire fires. Of course you should worry about it all the time. You have your debit card number memorized so you can order pizza without looking for your purse, but you don’t have your senator’s phone number memorized? Maybe you don’t worry about it enough.
Me: I don’t know that I’m getting anything from this. I mean, I’m not gaining any real insight.
Janell: What did you think you were going to get? All I am saying is the shit that is in your head literally all the time. It’s your stupid head. What did you think was going to happen?
Me: I don’t know. Not this. I totally should have gotten a massage instead.
Okay, so I am glad I played it out.
Anxiety psychics would be a nightmare. Don’t waste your money. I mean, if they ever become a thing. Unless you want to pay me to speak for your anxiety, because I think I’m really good at it.
Photo courtesy of Nino Care.