A Fortune Teller I Met Made Me Re-Think My Life

Why I Went Quiet for a While

I was missing for a period because I was lost, not in a dramatic way, but in a quiet, exhausting one. Life had become a routine of working, providing, and taking care of the family. I was doing everything I was supposed to do.

Yet somewhere along the way, I disappeared.

There was no space for myself anymore. No curiosity, no joy, no soul, just responsibilities on repeat. I wasn’t unhappy enough to break down, but I wasn’t alive enough to feel whole either.

A Chance Encounter With a Fortune Teller

One day, while walking around after my lunch, I passed by a fortune teller’s shop. I don’t consider myself someone who believes in fortune telling, but she caught my attention and said I needed her help.

Out of curiosity, I walked in.

Keeping Myself Grounded

Before going in, I had a lozenge, half joking, half serious, just to keep myself alert in case I lost my mentality or got scammed. It was my small way of staying grounded.

What the Fortune Teller Said

She told me two things almost immediately:

  1. I was facing issues at home

  2. I was losing myself

That second line hit harder than I expected.

She then said she saw two possible outcomes:

  1. I would slide into depression and eventually do something silly

  2. I would end up with a broken family

I didn’t panic because I believed her prediction. I paused because those outcomes felt realistic if I continued living on autopilot.

Walking Away

In the end, I didn’t pay a single cent.

As I was leaving, the fortune teller told me she believed I would be back someday.

Maybe she’s right, maybe she’s not.

But for now, I already got what I needed, a pause, a mirror, and a reminder that loving the person beside you can sometimes save the person within you.

What “Losing Myself” Really Meant

I realised “losing myself” didn’t mean I was irresponsible or selfish. It meant I had reduced myself to a function, a worker, a provider, a caretaker.

I was surviving for my family, but I wasn’t living with them.

Over time, that kind of life drains you. You become emotionally distant, impatient, and numb, even when you love the people around you.

Why Loving My Wife More Became the Answer

The problem wasn’t work.
The problem wasn’t responsibility.
The problem was emotional neglect, on both sides.

By loving my wife more, not just providing, but being present, I began reconnecting with myself too. When I slowed down, listened, showed appreciation, and treated her with more patience and warmth, something unexpected happened: I felt human again.

Love pulled me out of survival mode.

It reminded me that life isn’t just about holding everything together, it’s about sharing it.

What Changed After That

After that encounter, I started planning my life more deliberately. I created space, set boundaries, and chose presence over constant motion. Treating my wife better wasn’t a tactic to “fix” the family, it was how I fixed myself.

A stronger marriage didn’t just protect my family.
It gave me back my soul.

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