I had a Book on Angels years ago. I was in my late 20s and feeling very lost. I bought this book about angels and did all the exercises. I had a notebook in which I wrote to the angels and the angels wrote to me. I remember crying a lot because it felt like my angel said some things that really touched me and made me feel comforted and hopeful. I had, though, a simultaneous experience of feeling like I was probably just writing to myself and making myself cry by comforting myself in just the way I needed comforting. And I thought, well, I’ll just believe this for now – because it is helping me – and if this is a fiction – it is a fiction that will help guide me out of dark period.
I am still grateful to that angel, though. From this distance I feel, more than ever, that it was just a part of me, a wiser part of me, that the idea of an angel could help me understand.