Believe it or not, I am preferably a woman of science. I love research and facts neatly laid out over piles of scientific data and careful study. I want solid uniformed proof that a medication will work, or a therapy is successful over time, or that the additive in my food/shampoo/laundry detergent/ect… will not harm me or my family. I also love to learn and flex my intelligence with the challenges and questions that come with the reaching outskirts of science. Maybe that’s part of my “closet” state. I need science to back me up here. Because every time I get comfortable, every time I lean into the secure feelings of sound scientific logic, something happens that has no scientific explanation. And I am left leaning back into thin empty air reaching for anything to grab on to.
This morning I woke to a blanket of depression draped over me. The frustrating thing is it’s not mine. Someone I know and have cared for, it in the thick of it. They want out or help, they are aware of it. Unfortunately so am I. Most of the time I can recognize it’s not mine and shrug it off, just like shedding a heavy blanket. But the stronger the connection I have, the heavier the emotion, and the harder it is to peel off.
If I’m being honest with myself, I would say that my misery started yesterday afternoon. It seeped into me, draining me. When I woke this morning to get Junior ready for kindergarten, and dressed little Missy for daycare I was drowning in a fog of it. After putting Junior on his school bus at 7am, I drove Missy to daycare way earlier then I usually do. It’s my day off today. I should be feeling great. She was full of morning energy and my heart felt like a dull gray thud in my chest.
I sat in the empty classroom to play with her after Mrs. Green’s husband let me in. I sat and played quietly with her for 20 minutes, just enjoying her company when Mrs. Green came into the classroom truly upset. She told me I needed to call her if I was coming early because she had to be prepared for me as a “traveler.” That the darkness I pick up and bring with me could come into her home and she needs to protect the kids from it. That I needed to learn more about what I do to keep from harming myself and others with this darkness. She was visibly shaken just by my presence and I realized then and there why some people can’t warm up to me. I scare people on such a visceral level, I don’t think they are aware of it.
I cried on the way home. Tears just ran down my face as I drove, and slowly dwindled when I got home and curled into my bed in my now empty house. I feel so hyper ware of everything right now, I can practically taste vibrations around me. I also keep seeing the color purple flare around me in delicate waves, outlining the world around me. Writing this out, I realize it’s my own aura, flexing it’s colorful fingers to touch the world around me.
I feel little desperate. Trapped by need and pain that isn’t my own but there is no pill I can take, no physical treatment to layer on, no special diet that can regulate the symptoms of what it is to be so acutely and painfully psychic.
I was standing in my bathroom a few minutes ago, with my cat curled around my feet. I was standing there, trying to get a hold of myself, focusing on a point on the counter when I heard breathing. Not the soft purr coming from my kitty, but a set of steps, then a gasping breath. I’m a nurse and I have heard the breathing of dying people. 2 steps towards me, and a gasping breath. I looked down to see my cats ears perched up and his face focused on the open bathroom door, purring ceased. 2 more steps. 1 more breath. 2 more steps. 1 more breath. Closer to the bathroom, right around the corner.
I burst past the door frame shocking my cat into a serious leap. I didn’t look for the cause of the sounds, because I didn’t want to find it. I bolted straight through the kitchen and into the back yard where I collected my dog and brought him inside. It may be a psychic cheat, but animals soothe me in a way nothing else can.
Lately I’ve heard a lot more “talking” and “whispers” in my home when there shouldn’t be any. I have a friend, who I will most likely write about in future posts, who has some interesting “things” following him. Every time he has visited my home, I get a lot of poltergeist activity. Well he visited us 2 weekends ago and I should have known better.
I can performed a cleansing ritual of burning sage and rose petals in every room ending by lighting a white candle. To do this I have to picture calm and peaceful happiness in the home. Not how we would become happy, but everyone already feeling happy and peaceful. I don’t necessarily think that any one of those particular things has power, but the intentions that I have gives them a type of power.
That is psychic tutor 101: intentions are EVERYTHING. If the intention is there then the energy of that intention will follow shortly thereafter. I believe everyone has this power, not just psychics. If you have the intention of happiness, happiness will follow. If you let an illness claim your identity, then you become that illness. What you truly intend is the seed you sow. Lying to yourself doesn’t change a thing. If you mean someone harm, or have selfish intent, then that is the result that you will eventually reap. Think of it as paying it forward. Don’t believe me. Try it! Experiment! I dare you. Do it with one tiny thing or action. Focus on the purity of your intention and see what happens.
So why haven’t I done my little ritual already? For no better reason other than I’m too chicken shit. When “things” get particularly “busy” in my home, doing something like burning sage could rustle them up before booting them out. And honestly if you were me, knowing you can feel, hear, and see things others don’t, how eager would you be to stir the pot?
UPDATE: Just got off the phone with my younger sister. I told her how I’ve been feeling and what just happened. She confessed she has been feeling truly miserable since yesterday. She is going through her own stuff right now and yesterday was a particularly rough day for her. After finally speaking to her and I was able to acknowledge the origin of feelings, after which I could feel the misery melt off me. So at least there is that.
My sister and I are not far apart in age and have a relationship that I think is unique to siblings. She knows what I do and has just started to explore and realize her own potential. She did promise me to call next time she is feeling particularly dumpy. And I promised her that I love her just the same. When it comes to our deep connection, we need to talk and touch base regularly.
That being said, and as I have sat in my living room writing, I continue to hear bumps that shouldn’t be there, and the occasional whisper. I’m thinking I should go and get some “cleaning” done. Wish me luck!