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psychic phone line addiction story..
04-05-2013, 10:40 PM
Post: #1
psychic phone line addiction story..
How could a well-educated TV executive let her addiction to psychics cost her £25,000 and ruin her marriage?

The floaty voice of the designer-clad woman urged me to 'let my worries go  -  empty your mind and then focus on what you want to ask the cards'. Gingerly, I took the tarot pack she handed to me.

Sitting opposite me was one of Britain's leading psychics. Everyone I worked with in TV said her predictions were 100 per cent accurate. That was enough for me: I was hooked.

'Think, Sam,' I told myself. 'Think what you really want to know.' I handed the pack back to the psychic, Angelica, and prepared to listen to her prophecies: my future was in her hands. She stared at the first card, then let out a shriek of surprise. 

'My goodness!' she declared. 'You're going to live and work in Los Angeles.'

My initial reaction was scepticism. I had no plans to move. Neither had I even thought about applying for a new job. I was happy and successful in Britain. The prediction seemed preposterous. But Angelica was insistent.

'I promise you, you'll be in LA in six weeks.' 'Mmm,' I said. 'Anything else?' Slowly, Angelica turned over another card. Her next 'revelation' was earth-shattering. What's more, it would change the course of my life.

Angelica informed me that my marriage was as good as over. She stared at me unflinchingly and said I had to leave Damian, my husband of a year.

The shock was profound, but I dismissed it. After all, I reasoned, divorcing my husband was about as likely as getting a job in the U.S.

But then something extraordinary happened. Within a week, I was offered the position of running the LA office for the TV company I worked for.

It was a once-in-a-lifetime contract: generous salary, seaside house, the car of my dreams.

Angelica's prediction about the job had been uncannily accurate. I found myself thinking: could she be right about my marriage, too?

I had to admit there were flaws in our relationship. Damian, who worked as a comedy promoter, and I were at odds over having a baby.

At 33, I felt my biological clock was ticking. He was a year younger and said he was not ready for parenthood.

Instead of discussing the issue, I made a snap decision. Angelica, I figured, had been right about LA. She must, I told myself, have some insight into my personal life too.

So, as peremptory as my decision now seems, I packed my bags for the U.S. and hired a divorce lawyer.

Sadly, what then felt like an exciting, if somewhat rash, thing to do was the beginning of my downfall.

For what had begun as a mild intrigue in psychics became an obsession that cost me thousands of pounds (an eyepopping £25,000, to be exact), my business and even my house - and took nearly 20 years to shake.

It got so bad I couldn't make even the simplest decision without psychic advice. I forfeited my health, became gripped by terrible depression and fractured relationships with friends and my family.

Even today, I am still recovering from the disastrous consequences of my dependency. And I'm not alone. According to a recent Reader's Digest poll, over half of the population believe in psychics and premonitions. 

But when psychics charge anything from £60 to £500 an hour, what most people don't realise is that it's an expensive and unregulated industry that can lead to a dangerous obsession.

Psychics claim to be your friend and to have your best interests at heart - but it simply isn't true.

Sadly, it was only when I lost everything - my company, my home and my friends - that I realised psychics were only interested in lining their pockets.

My first experience with a psychic was when I was 18. My family is from Ireland and even though I was brought up in the Midlands, I was surrounded by people who believed in mystics and spirits. It was impossible not to be curious.

I remember vividly the first psychic I went to see - I'd saved up a month's wages from my Saturday job to pay for a tarot reading.

Matthew was an earnest old man who 'tuned in' to a ring I always wore and used that and cards to tell me what was in store for my love life.

Looking back, I naively convinced myself he 'knew' me. He told me so many things about myself that seemed to come true - particularly advice about a man I was seeing - that I became hooked.

He gave me a tape recording of our session, which I would listen to again and again. It was like a drug I had to have more of. 

But my obsession really took root in my 20s, when I secured a high-paying job in TV production.

I began seeing clairvoyants, 'sensitives', psychics - anyone who claimed they could predict what was likely to happen to me. I loved the idea that someone might be able to guide me through difficult times in my life.

Often their predictions were wildly out, but I felt comforted that I didn't have to make decisions on my own.

I once phoned a psychic to ask what colour to decorate my hallway. (I took his advice and painted it yellow, to everyone else's horror.)

And even if I fell out of 'love' with one fortune teller, there was always another - everyone I knew had consulted a psychic at least once.

As I began to earn more money, I was able to afford the sought-after 'psychics to the stars'. Aged 28, I paid £120 for an hour's reading in a swanky Covent Garden hotel.

This psychic referred me to a 'guru' in the Cotswolds, who I consulted every weekend for almost a year. I cringe when I think back to it - what was I, a well- educated, successful woman, thinking?

But I couldn't help myself and it was at my guru's cottage that I was coerced into spending thousands of pounds on 'positive energy' paintings, which my spiritual guide said would release her energy into my home.

How could I afford not to have one on my wall, I reasoned. I stopped consulting her only when she claimed to have 'found' me a husband - even I decided I'd rather find my own partner.

Years later, I read she had been sued in court over her dubious art business. That day I dumped her energy paintings in a skip, but my obsession with psychics continued.

By the time I reached my early 30s, I was on a six-figure salary running one of the country's top ten TV companies.

So all-consuming was my compulsion to consult people with 'special powers' that I got a series on clairvoyants commissioned by ITV.

To celebrate, I auditioned psychic after psychic. Their test: to get them to tell me all about myself.

Unfortunately, friendships became casualties of my obsession. When a close friend, Davina, was having boyfriend troubles, I jumped at her suggestion that we consult my psychic, Angelica.

This was around the time Angelica had accurately predicted my career move to the U.S. But Angelica told Davina to dump her boyfriend because he was cheating on her.

Unsurprisingly, this wasn't the news Davina wanted to hear. Our friendship never recovered.

Still, I persevered and let Angelica - who had already sent my life into turmoil by insisting I left my marriage - cause further tumult.

She suggested 'tuning in' to my family. It was then that she made the revelation that my cousin Caroline's marriage was in terminal decline.

That night I phoned my mum to tell her the 'news'. Within hours, the prediction had spread like wildfire.

To my horror, the news that Caroline was getting a divorce had been faithfully reported as the truth. Caroline, of course, was devastated by the lies that had been circulating and I was banned from mentioning the word psychic in the presence of my family.

Once I arrived in LA in 2004, I pursued my psychic habit with renewed enthusiasm. For while in London I had to refer to my psychic habit in whispered tones, in LA everyone had at least two clairvoyants. 

I was able to swap numbers with people as though we were talking about personal trainers or cosmetic surgeons. One in particular, Mary, took me under her wing.

She became my best friend, easing out my other friends so subtly that I never heard the alarm bells ringing. I began to rely so heavily on the counsel of Mary that when I was offered a job with a major Hollywood studio, I knew I could not take or reject the job without her advice.

What should I do?' I wailed down the phone to Mary. Her recommendation was emphatic: 'I'm definitely getting the vibe you should go back to London. I think you should start your own company. You'll have massive success with it in the UK.'

So, on the slender basis of a mere premonition, I followed her counsel to the letter. My two sisters thought I was mad and my mum was deeply suspicious, but I was so convinced Mary had my best interests at heart that I ignored their concerns.

I moved back to London at Mary's behest and started my own TV production company. Looking back, I realise, to my embarrassment, Mary had only her own mercenary interests at heart - she hoped I would be able to make her a TV star.

When that didn't happen, Mary walked out of my life as quickly as she had entered it. Suddenly, I realised how foolish I had been and how precarious my business plan was. Two years after I set up my company I went bankrupt.

Despite the fact I did have shows on air in Britain and the U.S., I couldn't sustain it. When the business went down, I did, too.

Aged 36, I'd lost everything. I had no marriage, no home (I'd remortgaged it for £150,000 to set up the business) and I sunk into depression.

It was only at that point that I recognised how dangerous my dependency on psychics had become. I resolved never to follow their advice again.

But my resolution was to last mere months. When one of my best friends offered to treat me to a reading with a 'brilliant psychic' in the U.S., I caved in immediately.

The psychic, Elaine, foretold my second marriage to a 'dark-skinned man with a son for whom English wouldn't be his first language'.

Like any confirmed addict, I knew my compulsion was dangerous, but I craved the high of talking about the 'future'.

Uncannily, as if to confirm that I was right to go back to them, just a year later I went on to marry a Frenchman - my second husband is a carpenter called Pascal, who, owing to his Catalan genes, is dark-skinned. I'm stepmother to his teenage son.

Until recently, even on a modest income, I continued to consult psychics. But over the past few months my attitude has changed.

My husband and I have been trying for a baby for the past year. To my shame, I've spent the past six months consulting psychics instead of fertility experts.

It's only now that I've realised my obsession has got to stop.

When one psychic told me I'd have a girl, another contradicted this prediction by telling me twins were on the cards, while yet another told me I'd have a son.

After 20 years obsessing about psychics, the moment of clarity finally arrived. I realised what a total farce it is trying to predict the future.

It's only today that I accept my dependency on psychics was not only emotionally dangerous and financially disastrous, but it also robbed me of my capacity to think for myself and plan my own future.

I live simply with Pascal in our home in south-west France. My lifestyle is far more modest than it was and I earn my living as a freelance writer.

While I do accept psychics can sometimes get things right (is it just luck, I now wonder?), I have finally realised, at the age of 39, that they can also get things wrong  -  and with devastating consequences.

Daily Mail story...
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11-05-2013, 05:30 PM
Post: #2
RE: psychic phone line addiction story..
(04-05-2013 10:40 PM)chrisw316 Wrote:  How could a well-educated TV executive let her addiction to psychics cost her £25,000 and ruin her marriage?

The floaty voice of the designer-clad woman urged me to 'let my worries go  -  empty your mind and then focus on what you want to ask the cards'. Gingerly, I took the tarot pack she handed to me.

Sitting opposite me was one of Britain's leading psychics. Everyone I worked with in TV said her predictions were 100 per cent accurate. That was enough for me: I was hooked.

'Think, Sam,' I told myself. 'Think what you really want to know.' I handed the pack back to the psychic, Angelica, and prepared to listen to her prophecies: my future was in her hands. She stared at the first card, then let out a shriek of surprise. 

'My goodness!' she declared. 'You're going to live and work in Los Angeles.'

My initial reaction was scepticism. I had no plans to move. Neither had I even thought about applying for a new job. I was happy and successful in Britain. The prediction seemed preposterous. But Angelica was insistent.

'I promise you, you'll be in LA in six weeks.' 'Mmm,' I said. 'Anything else?' Slowly, Angelica turned over another card. Her next 'revelation' was earth-shattering. What's more, it would change the course of my life.

Angelica informed me that my marriage was as good as over. She stared at me unflinchingly and said I had to leave Damian, my husband of a year.

The shock was profound, but I dismissed it. After all, I reasoned, divorcing my husband was about as likely as getting a job in the U.S.

But then something extraordinary happened. Within a week, I was offered the position of running the LA office for the TV company I worked for.

It was a once-in-a-lifetime contract: generous salary, seaside house, the car of my dreams.

Angelica's prediction about the job had been uncannily accurate. I found myself thinking: could she be right about my marriage, too?

I had to admit there were flaws in our relationship. Damian, who worked as a comedy promoter, and I were at odds over having a baby.

At 33, I felt my biological clock was ticking. He was a year younger and said he was not ready for parenthood.

Instead of discussing the issue, I made a snap decision. Angelica, I figured, had been right about LA. She must, I told myself, have some insight into my personal life too.

So, as peremptory as my decision now seems, I packed my bags for the U.S. and hired a divorce lawyer.

Sadly, what then felt like an exciting, if somewhat rash, thing to do was the beginning of my downfall.

For what had begun as a mild intrigue in psychics became an obsession that cost me thousands of pounds (an eyepopping £25,000, to be exact), my business and even my house - and took nearly 20 years to shake.

It got so bad I couldn't make even the simplest decision without psychic advice. I forfeited my health, became gripped by terrible depression and fractured relationships with friends and my family.

Even today, I am still recovering from the disastrous consequences of my dependency. And I'm not alone. According to a recent Reader's Digest poll, over half of the population believe in psychics and premonitions. 

But when psychics charge anything from £60 to £500 an hour, what most people don't realise is that it's an expensive and unregulated industry that can lead to a dangerous obsession.

Psychics claim to be your friend and to have your best interests at heart - but it simply isn't true.

Sadly, it was only when I lost everything - my company, my home and my friends - that I realised psychics were only interested in lining their pockets.

My first experience with a psychic was when I was 18. My family is from Ireland and even though I was brought up in the Midlands, I was surrounded by people who believed in mystics and spirits. It was impossible not to be curious.

I remember vividly the first psychic I went to see - I'd saved up a month's wages from my Saturday job to pay for a tarot reading.

Matthew was an earnest old man who 'tuned in' to a ring I always wore and used that and cards to tell me what was in store for my love life.

Looking back, I naively convinced myself he 'knew' me. He told me so many things about myself that seemed to come true - particularly advice about a man I was seeing - that I became hooked.

He gave me a tape recording of our session, which I would listen to again and again. It was like a drug I had to have more of. 

But my obsession really took root in my 20s, when I secured a high-paying job in TV production.

I began seeing clairvoyants, 'sensitives', psychics - anyone who claimed they could predict what was likely to happen to me. I loved the idea that someone might be able to guide me through difficult times in my life.

Often their predictions were wildly out, but I felt comforted that I didn't have to make decisions on my own.

I once phoned a psychic to ask what colour to decorate my hallway. (I took his advice and painted it yellow, to everyone else's horror.)

And even if I fell out of 'love' with one fortune teller, there was always another - everyone I knew had consulted a psychic at least once.

As I began to earn more money, I was able to afford the sought-after 'psychics to the stars'. Aged 28, I paid £120 for an hour's reading in a swanky Covent Garden hotel.

This psychic referred me to a 'guru' in the Cotswolds, who I consulted every weekend for almost a year. I cringe when I think back to it - what was I, a well- educated, successful woman, thinking?

But I couldn't help myself and it was at my guru's cottage that I was coerced into spending thousands of pounds on 'positive energy' paintings, which my spiritual guide said would release her energy into my home.

How could I afford not to have one on my wall, I reasoned. I stopped consulting her only when she claimed to have 'found' me a husband - even I decided I'd rather find my own partner.

Years later, I read she had been sued in court over her dubious art business. That day I dumped her energy paintings in a skip, but my obsession with psychics continued.

By the time I reached my early 30s, I was on a six-figure salary running one of the country's top ten TV companies.

So all-consuming was my compulsion to consult people with 'special powers' that I got a series on clairvoyants commissioned by ITV.

To celebrate, I auditioned psychic after psychic. Their test: to get them to tell me all about myself.

Unfortunately, friendships became casualties of my obsession. When a close friend, Davina, was having boyfriend troubles, I jumped at her suggestion that we consult my psychic, Angelica.

This was around the time Angelica had accurately predicted my career move to the U.S. But Angelica told Davina to dump her boyfriend because he was cheating on her.

Unsurprisingly, this wasn't the news Davina wanted to hear. Our friendship never recovered.

Still, I persevered and let Angelica - who had already sent my life into turmoil by insisting I left my marriage - cause further tumult.

She suggested 'tuning in' to my family. It was then that she made the revelation that my cousin Caroline's marriage was in terminal decline.

That night I phoned my mum to tell her the 'news'. Within hours, the prediction had spread like wildfire.

To my horror, the news that Caroline was getting a divorce had been faithfully reported as the truth. Caroline, of course, was devastated by the lies that had been circulating and I was banned from mentioning the word psychic in the presence of my family.

Once I arrived in LA in 2004, I pursued my psychic habit with renewed enthusiasm. For while in London I had to refer to my psychic habit in whispered tones, in LA everyone had at least two clairvoyants. 

I was able to swap numbers with people as though we were talking about personal trainers or cosmetic surgeons. One in particular, Mary, took me under her wing.

She became my best friend, easing out my other friends so subtly that I never heard the alarm bells ringing. I began to rely so heavily on the counsel of Mary that when I was offered a job with a major Hollywood studio, I knew I could not take or reject the job without her advice.

What should I do?' I wailed down the phone to Mary. Her recommendation was emphatic: 'I'm definitely getting the vibe you should go back to London. I think you should start your own company. You'll have massive success with it in the UK.'

So, on the slender basis of a mere premonition, I followed her counsel to the letter. My two sisters thought I was mad and my mum was deeply suspicious, but I was so convinced Mary had my best interests at heart that I ignored their concerns.

I moved back to London at Mary's behest and started my own TV production company. Looking back, I realise, to my embarrassment, Mary had only her own mercenary interests at heart - she hoped I would be able to make her a TV star.

When that didn't happen, Mary walked out of my life as quickly as she had entered it. Suddenly, I realised how foolish I had been and how precarious my business plan was. Two years after I set up my company I went bankrupt.

Despite the fact I did have shows on air in Britain and the U.S., I couldn't sustain it. When the business went down, I did, too.

Aged 36, I'd lost everything. I had no marriage, no home (I'd remortgaged it for £150,000 to set up the business) and I sunk into depression.

It was only at that point that I recognised how dangerous my dependency on psychics had become. I resolved never to follow their advice again.

But my resolution was to last mere months. When one of my best friends offered to treat me to a reading with a 'brilliant psychic' in the U.S., I caved in immediately.

The psychic, Elaine, foretold my second marriage to a 'dark-skinned man with a son for whom English wouldn't be his first language'.

Like any confirmed addict, I knew my compulsion was dangerous, but I craved the high of talking about the 'future'.

Uncannily, as if to confirm that I was right to go back to them, just a year later I went on to marry a Frenchman - my second husband is a carpenter called Pascal, who, owing to his Catalan genes, is dark-skinned. I'm stepmother to his teenage son.

Until recently, even on a modest income, I continued to consult psychics. But over the past few months my attitude has changed.

My husband and I have been trying for a baby for the past year. To my shame, I've spent the past six months consulting psychics instead of fertility experts.

It's only now that I've realised my obsession has got to stop.

When one psychic told me I'd have a girl, another contradicted this prediction by telling me twins were on the cards, while yet another told me I'd have a son.

After 20 years obsessing about psychics, the moment of clarity finally arrived. I realised what a total farce it is trying to predict the future.

It's only today that I accept my dependency on psychics was not only emotionally dangerous and financially disastrous, but it also robbed me of my capacity to think for myself and plan my own future.

I live simply with Pascal in our home in south-west France. My lifestyle is far more modest than it was and I earn my living as a freelance writer.

While I do accept psychics can sometimes get things right (is it just luck, I now wonder?), I have finally realised, at the age of 39, that they can also get things wrong  -  and with devastating consequences.

Daily Mail story...
This story mirrors my recent experience of the last eighteen months, i believe my not getting over my ex is anything to do with the breakup of this relationhship, but i believe my delay/confusion/brainwashing and inability to build my self esteem is the result of speaking to psychics, they lift you up with what you want to hear and then drop you down when its the opposite, a bit like heroin, its a dangerous game to play, and i believe even that by now i may even have had some sort of relationship or even closure with my ex fiance but it has been delayed by psychics, i also believe i would be much more nurtured/fit and healthy if i had used the hundreds and hundreds of pounds i have spent on psychics on myself by getting well and shining once again, its been a slow process getting over the heartbreak of someone i still love and even harder to get over the psychic input which i believe is even worse than the breakup, breakups can be healthy and build you up but giving power to someone else to tell you your future is not good, and anyway your future will just happen with or without them. have faith/strength/be your own psychic/intiutive self x
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11-05-2013, 07:26 PM
Post: #3
RE: psychic phone line addiction story..
I'm really sorry to here that you have been conned by one of these awful psychics..

Personally think your honesty speaks volumes for your character! And you should be aplauded for speaking out!

I home things have picked up for you !

Smile
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