When it comes to psychics, we all fall into three distinct camps.
First, there are the believers, who believe anything that comes from a psychic’s mouth is akin to expert advice: profound and important and life-changing. These are the people who treat spirituality – the health of their soul – as paramount to their wellbeing. Basically, their psychic is as important as their GP.
Then we have the neutrals. The people in this group are not exactly sure if they believe psychics, but why the hell not give it a go? These are the people who have been dragged to readings and appointments by their friends and who – despite mild protests – kinda find themselves enjoying the whole thing.
Last of all, we have the cynics, the ones who absolutely, wholeheartedly reject the possibility that a lucky handful of people can predict the future, and pity those who think they can.
Listen: Debbie Malone is a psychic detective. (Post continues…)
Chances are you clicked into this post because you belong in one of the first two groups. Even if you’re skeptical, there’s a slither – a tiny part of you – that humours the chance that, yes, psychics might be legitimate.
We went around the Mamamia office and collected the stories from women who have been to psychics in recent years.
So, we asked them, how the hell did your psychic’s biggest predictions for your life turn out?
The cancer prediction – Sheryl, 55
“I see clairvoyants every 18 months or so just to see how I’m tracking, but there’s one particular experience that’s always stayed with me.
About 10 years ago, I was at a little market fair and I was waiting to see a psychic. I had my name down but there were a lot of people waiting before me. I don’t know why, but I was drawn to another psychic nearby so decided to go over to her.
I sat down and she asked me had my mother passed over to the other side. I said no, and she replied, ‘Well, have you spoken to her recently to see how she’s going?’ As she was saying this, she kept moving her hand over her right hip and down towards her lower back. ‘I keep getting a real strong pain around here’, she told me. ‘I don’t know whether your mother’s had a fall or if she’s hurt herself in the garden’, so she said, casually, ‘Make sure you ask her’.
I didn’t really think further about it after that day. Actually, her comments to do with my mum didn’t sink in until about six months later, when my mum called to say she had to go into hospital.