OM3! Number 33 is Ruling Me: Obsession or Something More?

The number 33 has been ruling my life for the past seven years now. I rarely speak about it because my family thinks I’m a big enough weirdo, I was trying to spare them. They almost escaped. Unfortunately (for them), I’m a die-hard BING Reward chaser, and that literally is what cost them.

Let me tell you friends, there are a LOT of people out there like me (YES!), and the association with these numbers consumes them as it does me. I notice it all the time, and everywhere. Like here:

333 Words in a Blog Post I Wrote Recently that Briefly Mentioned DNA
333 Words in a Blog Post I Wrote Recently that Briefly Mentioned DNA

What the Hell am I Talking About?

My dad passed away when I was 33.

He was found dead in his apartment, which was #33.

It was located on California State Highway 33.

He worked for at the same business for 33 years.

It was located at 33 N. Salado.

He would have been sixty-two years old on September 23, 2014.

It Gets So Unbelievable: Are You Buckled Up?

 

I have been bombarded with the number’s 33 and 333 for a couple weeks now; more so than ever. The frequency of the number sequences has gotten so overwhelming, I started documenting them to prove to those around me that I was still semi-sane.

I came across this discovery as I was searching for past stories I’ve written about my dad. Look at the top left-hand side of this screen shot. Right above a note I wrote about my grandpa.

33 Notes Stored on Facebook
33 Notes Stored on Facebook

To me, the numbers have always been positive indicators. They have always reminded me my dad was still here. They’ve busted me acting up,  as a reminder that I’m not alone and provide encouragement to forge ahead. I know I’m a weirdo–Keep reading, it’s about to get better.

This Photo Taken in 2010 at a Gas Station Down the Street. I first started watching after I saw this. It was 3 years after my dad passed.
This Photo Taken in 2010 at a Gas Station Down the Street. I first started watching after I saw this. It was 3 years after my dad passed.

My relationship with my dad was rocky from the start. To say we bumped heads would be an understatement. He and I clashed, and it sucked.

I never understood how to communicate with him, always fought for his attention and mimicked his stubbornness, especially while under the influence of beer. I didn’t get his approval, or accolades, or support, or encouragement-from him, I got a lot of “blah”.

That all changed a couple years before he died. The last years with him were good. He was present, watched my boys, tried to follow along with my life, and evolved into a pleasant man. Although we got on each other’s nerves, it wasn’t as bad as the previous years.

So, Back to The 3’s

A Tweet I Sent With 33 Looking at Me
A Tweet I Sent With 33 Looking at Me. Ironic? It Was a Shout Out to My Dad.

I noticed the number three and its correlation to my dad pretty soon after his death. As you can imagine, I also began to notice the number’s 33 and 333 more often.

At first, I’d see the numbers and think it was cool, and sent a shout out to my dad. There was peace that gave me the sense of knowing, (in my weird way) that he was still around, looking out for my me, my kids, and my sister. No one else in the family had this connection, so I felt special.

Overwhelming feelings of gravitation toward recognizing the presence of these numbers has gnawed at me for the past seven years. It’s as if they are trying to say the meaning is greater than what I am interpreting.

Naturally, I think I’m dying.

I know it’s irritating, but I can’t help it. I built to process things differently than most-God knows I’ve spent years trying to change it, but I have no choice. I over-analyze, and literally drive myself crazy, trying to find more; which in all honesty, drives everybody else crazier than it does me.
Naturally, that makes me pursue it further, and that’s exactly what I did today.

I have NO IDEA why but in seven years, I’ve never put any real research into this phenomenon. I’ve talked about it, posted pictures on Facebook, made anyone near me stop to look at the clock when I’ve caught it at 3:33, but I never looked into an actual meaning before now.

Computer Screen Shot at 3:33
Computer Screen Shot at 3:33

 

It was September 23, 2014, and it was a long one full of thought, disbelief, confusion, and excitement. If everything adds up—what does it all mean?

Let’s just say I was a bit shocked at the results, as I read some philosophy behind the meaning. Let’s break it down according to Creative Numerology.

Screenshot from Creative Numerology about 33
Screenshot from Creative Numerology

Who wants to know what my numbers are?

Here goes:

My birthday:

1+2+2+7=12=1+2=3

September 23, 2014

9+2+3+7=21=2+1=3

I went on to break down every birthday I could think of; family members, friends, strangers… NO ONE else has a life number of 3. So, what does it all mean? I’m exploring more. I’ll be back. Leave an opinion if you’ve got one.

He Was No Tom Selleck: Lessons From Dad After He Passed

*Originally shared at Yahoo! Voices in June 2014—- My parents divorced when I was three, and as a result, I became a statistic. In the ’70s, divorce was a new concept, and the psychology of parenting wasn’t anything people thought about changing. In truth, the notion of parenting roles was still vague during these times. Fathers were not viewed as less actively involved with children — not like mothers — so weekend visitation (in the rare case of divorce) was socially accepted.

My dad carried his weight with visitation and child support but didn’t go beyond. He attended my graduations from 8th grade and high school but other than that; he was absent.

As a child, he was my hero. I told my friends that he was the coolest guy ever. I often compared his looks to Tom Selleck (he was young and popular then!) and bragged about how much fun he was.

Tom Selleck on the red carpet at the 1989 Acad...
Tom Selleck on the red carpet at the 1989 Academy Awards, March 29, 1989 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In hindsight, I only remember going anywhere with him twice. Once to Disneyland and once to a zoo.

As a teen, I began to struggle with his role. I rebelled at the idea that he was sort of a deadbeat, but the realization was becoming clearer. He was a hard man to please, and it was nearly impossible to get his attention.

After the birth of my first child, I began to feel pity for him. He spent his free-time with his buddies at the bar; he was uninterested in my life. At first, I was angry. Years made me soften, and my fondness for Psychology made me analyze him.

This analysis made me very aware of his pain. I began to forgive.

My dad passed away seven years ago from complications with his liver. A result from excessive drinking. A few years before he died, I was able to repair our relationship. He had quit drinking, and I learned I liked him. I was almost 30 years old before I realized how similar I was to him. His desire to become a better grandpa was ultimately what repaired our relationship.

He became the dad I had always wanted. He was a great grandpa to my kids.

His legacy carries into my life on a daily basis. I think about him during every aspect of my role as a parent. I continue to strive to be a better mom, and I always look at the good and bad of my dad.

He has indirectly taught me more about being a parent than I could ever have imagined.

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