I decided in my mid 20’s, while finishing my undergraduate late as single mother, to move to my current city because I thought I’d be better able to find a job in my degree. I started dating and became engaged to a boy who lived here, and when I graduated I moved straight in with him. All was going well, and while we were planning our wedding I suddenly realized that when I was a kid I wanted to be 27, and that was coming up in the next year or so. I have a very poor autobiographical memory and I was surprised I remembered such an odd thing from my childhood, so this sudden memory vividly flourished. It was like a seed that was suddenly planted in my brain that grew and thrived when fed by my rumination.
I told the boy that 27 was going to be the best year of my life, and he was like, “uh, okay?” I told the boy’s parents the same sentiment, and they seriously thought I was crazy. As the wedding planning moved along, we started getting caught up in a tangled web of religious and lifestyle clashes. Tension was rising among all of us when the climax of our relationship hit – my ex (my son’s dad) had attacked him after the boy unwisely attempted to stand up for me as I was verbally assaulted, something I was quite used to by then.
The boy ended up deciding to break up with me. My son and I found an apartment, and I worked two jobs to keep us afloat amidst the lack of child support. I remember telling the apartment manager my story and adding that it was all okay, because 27 was going to be the best year of my life. She was most likely thinking, “Well, at least she’s positive.”
I continued to work, vowing to never date again until my son was 14 (haha!). My 27th birthday came and went, and life continued as usual. I also continued to inform almost everyone with whom I had a semi-personal conversation that this was my year, even though it wasn’t looking particularly promising. My son’s father continued to attempt to make life difficult for me, I wasn’t getting anywhere in my jobs, but I also wasn’t experiencing much hardship. This continued until December 27th, at 8:27 AM when I hit send on the most important email of my life. I had decided to email another employee at my company and introduce myself as a friend. He seemed to have many values in common with me, based on what I had heard and his employee of the month write up. The time crawled by as I awaited what was sure to be a humiliating response, probably some kind of rejection, but instead, at 11:27 AM, I received a very friendly response from the man who would soon become my husband. From that day until my 28th birthday, I met and married my soulmate, traveled to Hawaii (for our wedding and honeymoon), purchased our first house, quit my second job and became the happiest person on Earth. We moved into our house on my 28th birthday.
We talked about the number 27 a lot. He didn’t think I was crazy. In fact we found all kinds of mathematical signs to back up the theory, and we got married on May 27th. Every month, to this day, we celebrate our “special day” on the 27th.
I don’t have a clear-cut explanation for this story. It could have just been a coincidence. It could have been that I believed something so strongly that my subconscious (and part of my conscious) took steps to make it true (self-fulfilling prophecy). It could even be that I managed to change the vibrational frequency making up me and my surroundings with my thoughts. All I know is that I think I believed something strongly enough that it happened.
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