Unbreak My Heart: Dealing With the Death of a Parent
When our Beauty Adventuress experiences a major loss, she gives up going it alone and finds comfort in unlikely places.
By Holly Millea | July 19, 2010
From the story:
“Sweetie, you want some real answers?” Michael says. “Go see Jusstine Kenzer. She’s got the gift.”
This time, however, I’m going to make sure no one can load the dice. I enlist Liesl to pretend that she wants a psychic reading. That way, when I show up, pretending to be her, Kenzer won’t have Googled Holly Millea and read my Beauty Adventures for psychic cheating. But Kenzer’s time is tight, so Liesl, now caught in our electronic web, has to send a series of pleading e-mails trying to persuade Kenzer to squeeze her/me in. Suddenly a cranky e-mail arrives: Be at her house in two hours. Liesl calls and tells me I better come clean with Kenzer about our ploy. “It’s not like we’re running a Food Lion sting operation,” she says.
Shaking Kenzer’s hand, I mutter, “I’m…not Liesl. I’m Holly. I’m a writer and—”
“Stop talking! It doesn’t matter what your name is.” A grouchy psychic? “Let’s get to it. I have a phone client in 45 minutes.”
We sit on her love seat, and Kenzer, a buxom, sexy brunette, lowers her head. “I’m going to take a moment and tune in here,” she says, closing her eyes. She inhales deeply, shakes her head, agitated, and says, “Are you on an antidepressant? I’m getting TV static.”
I just started taking Lexapro.
“Well, at least it’s not Prozac. It takes me 15 minutes to get through Prozac.”
She closes her eyes again, opens them, and says, “When we’re depressed, we’re suppressing energy. So now you’re taking an antidepressant, which is covering it up, but eventually you’re going to want to get to what this is to release it. Otherwise you’re just burying it more. People don’t want to feel what they’re feeling.” But you should.
How do you like that? I saw a psychologist who claims to be psychic and ended up with a psychic with the gifts of a psychologist. I like it. At the end of a fruitful, impressive session, I pay Kenzer $200 and ask the burning question: “Was I a witch in Salem?”
“Who cares? It’s not about diving into past lives,” she says. “The only thing we have control of is right here, right now.”
Conviently left out of this story was how she was 40 minutes late to her appointment.
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