Psychic Burnout Is Real, Y'all

Alright, here we go again. Another day, another batch of spirits, energy work, and trying to keep my sanity intact. I woke up this morning with this crushing weight on my chest—like something heavy was just sitting there. No, it wasn't one of the dogs (although they do love to plop down right on top of me); it was the feeling of psychic burnout creeping in. And let me tell you, that shit is no joke.

I don’t talk about it much, but being a psychic isn’t all about sitting around, lighting candles, and whispering sweet nothings to the spirit world. It’s fucking exhausting. You’ve got energies coming at you from every direction—people’s emotions, spirits with unfinished business, your own damn baggage. Some days, it feels like I’m a sponge soaking up all the world’s chaos.

So today, I decide I need a goddamn break. Told Anthony I’m taking the day off. No readings, no energy sessions, no diving into the dark abyss of other people’s lives. Just me, my coffee, and my own thoughts for once. I grabbed a book (yeah, I read sometimes, shocking, I know), one of those crime thrillers that’s nothing but page-turning junk food for the brain. Exactly what I needed.

But, of course, the universe had other plans. Halfway through my second cup of coffee, I get this call from a client—let’s call her "Judy." Judy’s in full-blown panic mode. She’s been having these nightmares, like the kind that make you wake up screaming, drenched in sweat. She’s convinced there’s a demon in her house. Now, usually, I’d be like, “Alright, let’s set up a time and talk about this,” but Judy’s not having it. She’s losing her shit, and I can hear the fear in her voice.

So much for my day off, right?

I throw on some clothes, grab my crystals, sage, and a black tourmaline bracelet—my psychic armor, basically—and head over to Judy’s place. The second I walk in, I feel it. This heavy, oppressive energy that’s like a punch to the gut. Whatever’s in here, it’s not happy.

I tell Judy to stay in the living room while I check out the rest of the house. I move room to room, and every step I take, the air gets thicker. By the time I get to the bedroom, it feels like I’m wading through mud. That’s when I see it—a shadowy figure lingering by the window. And it’s not just any spirit; it’s pissed off, like really pissed off.

I sit down, take a deep breath, and call it out. “What the hell do you want?” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. And I shit you not, the temperature drops like ten degrees. I’m freezing my ass off, but I stay focused. Slowly, the figure starts to take shape. It’s this older guy, maybe in his 60s, with this look on his face like he’s been wronged.

Turns out, this guy was Judy’s uncle. Died under some sketchy circumstances—family feud over money, that sort of thing. He’s been hanging around, pissed off because he felt betrayed, and he’s been taking it out on Judy because, in his twisted afterlife logic, she’s the easiest target.

We talk, or rather, I talk and he listens. I explain to him that holding onto all this anger isn’t doing him any good. I guide him through some forgiveness shit—trust me, it sounds cheesy, but it works—and after what feels like forever, he starts to let go. The air clears, the temperature comes back up, and just like that, he’s gone.

Judy’s in tears by the end of it. She’s been carrying this guilt for years, thinking she could’ve done something to prevent his death. I tell her what I always tell my clients: You can’t change the past, but you can decide how much power you’re gonna let it have over your present. It’s up to you to let that shit go.

By the time I get home, I’m drained as hell. Anthony’s waiting for me with a glass of wine and a knowing look on his face. He gets it. He knows how this stuff takes a toll. I collapse on the couch, the dogs piling up around me like they’re forming some sort of furry forcefield, and I just sit there, letting the day wash over me.

So here’s the lesson today, folks: psychic burnout is real, and it’s a bitch. You gotta take care of yourself. It’s like when you’re on an airplane, and they tell you to put on your own oxygen mask before helping others. Same thing applies here. You can’t pour from an empty cup, and you sure as hell can’t help others if you’re running on empty.

Take a damn break. Don’t wait until you’re at your wit’s end. Listen to your body, your mind, your spirit. And if you’re like me and you can’t seem to catch a break because spirits won’t leave you the hell alone, at least make time to recharge afterward.

Stay strong, stay weird, and don’t forget to put your own oxygen mask on first.

Until next time,

Demetri.

Online Aura Reading – Delivered Within 24 Hours

Buy Now