My Story, Part 2


There’s something I should add to my story about becoming intuitive, or psychic. And that is this: I believe I was psychic when I was little. There are clues here and there that I remember which lead me to think this. There is also the general belief among the new age community (one I firmly ascribe to) that all children are highly intuitive and psychic, but that adults shut them down when they’re very young because that sort of thing is just not accepted – not even willingly recognized – in our modern society.

My intuitive faculties shut down when I was about 5 or so. A lot of dramatic things happened after my birth, which was in and of itself both perilous and miraculous because my mother had cancer when she was pregnant with me. My mom survived, but divorced my dad, who came from India and left his whole family behind to marry her, when I was three. I loved him with all my heart and was devastated when our little family broke up. I remember that. But I was resilient. As I was when my mother met Mildred, an old African American woman who babysat me while she worked as an ESL teacher. Mildred, whom I called Nana, took care of me, and watched over me, but I don’t know that she was good for me. She had a heavy hand, and was somewhat abusive. Okay, somewhat is a nice way of saying it. Anyway, Nana and my mom became friends. My mom was looking for a mother figure, and Nana was looking for a pupil, or a follower (she was an ordained minister who believed in metaphysics and all that). So their friendship evolved, and they decided to be roommates when I was about 5 or 6. This worked out for my mom because Nana babysat me all the time when she was at work. But this sucked for me, because Nana was very controlling and heavy-handed. She was all about her metaphysics and all about being black and all about how the world had wronged her. And she was determined to whip me into shape. I was constantly afraid of her, and I became, in psychological terms, hypervigilant. Always on the alert. Always watching and worrying about what was going to happen next. Now I know that that vigilant state was the emergence of my protective analytical mind on overdrive, drowning out the soft, dreamy, happy go lucky side of my intuitive self. It’s neither good nor bad; it was a protective state, a survival thing.

I never knew what kind of mood Nana would be in when I got home from school. I never new if she’d want to beat me or verbally berate me or take away all my toys for some phantom of a reason she made up in her twisted mind. Meanwhile, who knows what my mom was thinking or how much of this she realized was going on. A few years after we were living with Nana, when I was ten, my mom got sick again. And she fought and struggled against Hodgkin’s Disease for five straight years after that. I watched my mother, whom I loved with all of my heart and soul, suffer excruciating, debilitating pain as this cancer consumed her body. And my hypervigilance grew even stronger. I was all about survival: my own, and that of my mother. Will the radiation work? How much codeine will she need tonight? Will she throw up from the chemo treatment? How long will it take before all her hair falls out? How can I help her? Will God answer my constant prayers that he spare her this pain and suffering? Will she get better? Will she survive? Because the cancer went into remission and returned a couple of times, these fears were constant.

In New Age terms, all of this non-psychic hypervigilance formed me into a classic empath, because I’m so compassionate when I am trying to help family, friends, and clients that I can literally feel their pain. It’s not a great thing to be or have on my part, though, because it really hurts, and it’s born from the unconditional love I felt for my mother as she suffered so miserably before she died at age 39, when I was 15.

The bright side of all of this is that it primed me to be a very good intuitive, and a very good helper for those who need my assistance. As I work with my intuition more and more, I find I can be less involved, more detached, but still extremely loving, understanding, and helpful. It amazes me, how precious our intuitive faculties are, and how wonderful it is when we’re able to use and express them. We have so much more power locked into our psychic centers than we do in our ordinary analytical minds, which work so hard to protect us, but are so trapped in the flight or flight paradigm that not much else is allowed for. It’s not easy to see this until you’ve experienced working in the trenches with both sides of the psyche, as I have.

It took me a long time to re-discover my intuitive side, to realize that I really am psychic. I didn’t even think it was possible. But the process of this re-discovery is so exciting and new that I wouldn’t change that experience for all the world.

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