A Witch Without a Net

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 A Witch Without a Plan

If you know me, you know I always have a plan.

Usually I have Plan A, Plan B, Plan C, three contingency plans, a backup contingency plan, and at least one option involving spite, duct tape, caffeine, and sheer fucking determination.

Right now?

I am officially a Witch without a plan.

Mom and I came back from the Alaska trip (which was bought and paid for BEFORE the wreck), and I brought back the nastiest of viral infections. Still no word from the insurance. Or my attorney.

It has been 239 days since the wreck on December 23rd.

239 days of doctors, pain, appointments, medical bills, physical limitations, paperwork, attorneys, insurance companies, and trying to put a life back together after somebody else's mistake blew a hole straight through ours.

A month ago, we were told the settlement was coming.

We planned around it.

We made decisions based on it. FMLA, movers, packers, giving up the apartment, etc.

We started preparing to move and finally get ourselves back home, believing that after nearly eight months of this mess, the financial piece would finally fall into place. Because my attorney said it would!

It hasn't.

We're still waiting.

And unfortunately, the calendar doesn't give a shit about insurance companies.

August 28th is our absolute deadline.

We have to be completely out of this apartment.

And as I sit here writing this, there is a very real possibility that on August 28th, three adults and two cats could be homeless.

That's not drama.

That's where things currently stand.

I have planned. Budgeted. Rearranged. Cut things. Changed routes. Changed timelines. Made phone calls. Packed boxes. Looked at every possible way to make the numbers work.

And, because I am who I am, the prosperity spellwork has been done.

Candles have burned.

Herbs have been laid.

Intentions have been spoken.

The Universe has received the memo, probably in triplicate, because apparently even the Gods have to deal with bureaucracy these days.

But here's one of those truths about Witchcraft that doesn't make pretty Instagram content:

Sometimes magic doesn't drop the solution into your lap.

Sometimes magic opens a door and then expects you to knock on the damn thing.

So I'm about to knock.

I'm about to ask a favor.

A huge one.

And asking for help does not come easily to me. I would much rather be the person helping. The person figuring it out. The person pulling the rabbit out of the hat at 11:59 and announcing, "See? I told you I'd handle it."

But I'm running out of rabbits.

And I'm running out of 11:59s.

I don't know exactly what happens between today and August 28th.

For probably the first time in a very long time, I genuinely don't have the answer.

I just know that 239 days after a wreck that changed our lives, we're still standing.

Maybe a little crooked.

Definitely pissed off.

Probably held together with burnt sage, caffeine, stubbornness, and language that would make my ancestors clutch their pearls.

But standing.

The prosperity work has been sent.

The candles have burned.

The intention is out there.

And now comes the mundane part of magic that nobody likes talking about:

Asking another human being for help.

So here goes.

I'm about to ask for one hell of a favor.

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