Exit

“Dad?” I asked, “Can you see the angel at the foot of your bed, standing by the wall?” He said he couldn’t but I could and what I saw made me nervous.

My dad was succumbing to the cancer that was eating him alive. He was in a hospital bed and I was sitting with him. The ‘old’ me never would have asked my highly logical and unspiritual dad if he could see an angel. I mean, HELLO! Looney bin?! But I wasn’t the ‘old’ me any longer and my dad was dying, literally, in front of me.

When dad first told me he was diagnosed with an aggressive cancer, I adamantly denied this. I ‘saw’ a white spot inside his shoulder and told him it wasn’t cancer, as cancer would be black. I kept saying, “It’s not cancer. You don’t have cancer” and he would quietly respond, “Yes, I do.”

When I asked my Guys (Guardian Angels) about this, they told me it WASN’T cancer. They said the medical community didn’t know how to classify this and with all things unknown, they lumped them into the cancer category. Whether this is true or not, I don’t know.

My sister, brother and I would tag team taking care of dad until it was no longer possible for him to live in the house he wanted to die in. Through all of this, dad was open to me giving him Reiki and would often request it as he said it helped with the overall pain and with the burning sensation from his radiation treatments.

So when I glanced up from my dad’s hospital bed and saw an angel all in black, I became frightened. Nothing about his demeanor was frightening, though. He was casually posed with his back against the wall. One of his legs was bent and his foot was resting on the wall. He had jet black, silky wings, dark hair, light skin and black eyes (no white sclera’s). He was incredibly handsome and had a powerful, yet calming, presence.

I didn’t sense animosity or evil but because Hollywood has depicted black as malevolent, I was afraid he was there to harm my dad. I became even more protective of my father and telepathically said, ‘You’re not welcome here. You need to leave. Now.’ When I looked again, the angel had complied with my wish. He was gone and I was  shaking.

A few days later, when my dad was no longer able to breathe without assistance and his heart was the only organ that was still unfailingly functioning, I saw this angel again. His demeanor had changed though. Previously it felt like he was just observing or seeing how things were going. This time, his head was bent and his hands were clasped in front of him. It looked as if he was paying his respects or mourning with us.

I knew then that this angel wasn’t there to harm my dad. He was there to take my dad Home. Maybe I knew that when he first made an appearance but I didn’t want to believe it. I am an eternal optimist and believed my dad, through a miracle, could/would get better almost up until the point his heart quit beating.

As us three kids sat around our father’s hospital bed, my dad died.  I wouldn’t have known it physically, but I happened to look up and saw a see-through version of my dad standing at the foot of his bed. The angel stood behind and slightly to the side of him.

The image of my dad was that of a man who was much younger; he was in his early forties. He was wearing a black suit with a thin black tie and a white shirt. His head was bowed and his hands were clasped. It felt like my dad, too, was paying his respects. It all felt very somber.

I glanced back at the physical body my dad’s soul inhabited for 84 years. He was no longer there. I again looked at the astral version of my dad and he WAS still there. A sad, peaceful smile formed on my face. I was overcome with relief that my dad was no longer in agony and he was going somewhere where there was no pain and lots of fabulous golf courses. I also knew his pain had ended and mine had just begun. I took so much comfort and felt infinitely blessed being able to see what I did with my intuitive sight.

Dad didn’t look up, not once. He kept his stance of respect until I could no longer see him. I intuitively said, “Dad? I love you. PLEASE let me know when you’ve made it.”

About five months later, I was sitting in our campsite, alone. Trinity was fishing and I was reading a book. I looked up and saw my dad. He was dressed in some hideous checkered golf shorts from the late 70’s and a white golf shirt. He was sitting on a log about 4 feet in front of me. I excitedly and yet casually said, “Hi daddy!” He, ever a man of few words said, “Well, you asked me to tell you when I made it.  I made it. So, I guess that’s it. I’ll bring your mother with me next time.”  I said, “Ok, daddy. I love you” and he replied, “Yep. Guess I love you, too. Well, I’m off then.”  And once again, he was gone. This time though, with his departure, I felt comfort and peace instead of sorrow and loss.

Crazy

Google defines ‘crazy’ as:  “Mentally deranged, esp. as manifested in a wild or aggressive way.” It goes on to add synonyms such as: insane, out of one’s mind, deranged, demented and lunatic.

Seriously, with descriptions like this, is it any wonder we fear those with mental illness?

I have a friend who went through physical hell for the last year or so. She thought she had an auto-immune disease but the doctors said she didn’t quite fit the mold. She had some of the symptoms, but not all of them and then some symptoms of other diseases. In short, the medical community didn’t know what to do with Connie. They couldn’t label her with a physical disease even though her pain would be, at times, debilitating and left her suffering with insomnia, seizures and high blood pressure.

Eventually, she developed severe panic/anxiety attacks. Even though her rational mind was saying she wasn’t in danger and didn’t need to fight, flight or freeze, she would have a very physical reaction to this self-perceived harm.  Her medical doctor put on her on anti-anxiety medicine and suggested (FINALLY!!!) she try counseling.

Connie did seek the services of a therapist and was frustrated that she, after going so long without knowing what was wrong, STILL didn’t have a medical diagnosis. When she asked the therapist about this, Connie was told that she, the therapist, really hesitated to tell people their diagnosis because of the negative connotations surrounding it. She told Connie her diagnosis was a mental illness.

Dum de dahhhhh dah DUM. And there it is. The words: “MENTAL ILLNESS.”

For some of us, these two little words can be scarier than anything Stephen King could bring to life. Oh, I don’t mean we fear developing mental illness ourselves. Noooooo, we fear those who have it.  Fear might be too strong of a word, but most of us are certainly are uncomfortable.

You tell someone you have heart disease, diabetes or even cancer and that is immediately accepted. No questions asked; no fear in their eyes. You’re told, “I’m sorry to hear that. How are you doing? Do you need anything?” Or maybe you just receive a generic nod of the head and an uninspired ‘oh’.  These physical diseases are accepted and freely talked about so why aren’t mental health issues? Why is that taboo?

I have a young nursing student friend who recently was diagnosed with a mental illness. She had a nervous breakdown or ‘psychotic episode’ one day and immediately took herself to the emergency room. Her brain had reached the limits of stress, overload and pain it would endure. Her brain said, “enough!”

She came to see me about a week later. She was wondering why, even though she was taking her medication as prescribed, she was still having problems cognitively (memory retention and concentration).  When I asked my Guys (Guardian Angels) about this, they said she had received a wound to her brain and it needed to be treated with the same care you would give to a wound you could see.  They went on to say it might take up to six months before her brain injury healed and functioned in the manner it did prior to the injury.

Stress, genetics, biology and psychological trauma are all causes of mental illness. They can also cause physical illness. Interesting, huh? As you’ve read in the case of Connie, these mental traumas can mimic physical diseases. If your mind mimics the disease for too long, the disease will become real. The body has a way of saying what the mind cannot. Are you listening to yours?

Let’s not underestimate the value of healing your brain, whether it’s by conventional methods such as a professionally trained counselor or non-conventional methods such as IET, Body Talk or even Reiki. Healing trauma within your mind can have resounding effects on your physical body and psyche.

Connie gave me permission to tell her story, even though she’s scared she’ll be judged. She has a strong desire to bring awareness and to educate others about this. It does not need to be awkward or avoided. In truth, mental illness is so common. Did you know eating disorders, PTSD, autism, anxiety, suicide (yes, suicide) and depression (to name a few) are ALL mental illnesses? When you look at it that way, who HASN’T been touched (pun intended) by this?

Connie’s hope is that we can reduce or eliminate the stigma surround mental illness. She’d like to get rid of the demeaning comments, the discrimination and even the harassment. Sometimes this is subtle, like people avoiding eye contact once you tell them your diagnosis. Sometimes it’s not so subtle and the words and body language used can be cruel.

Imagine this: On the job you certainly wouldn’t say, “You have high blood pressure so you could stroke out at any moment. We’d better not put you in a stressful situation” but that’s one type of implied discrimination mental illness receives.  Remember, as with anything physical, if a mental disease is properly treated there is no concern of someone ‘going postal’ because of it.

The following statement is from one our local radio stations and it’s so appropriate: “Normal? Isn’t that a setting on a washing machine? Who wants to be normal?!?”

After doing research for this blog, I’m wondering who IS normal? With all the stress, the workloads and the overwhelming need to be constantly being plugged in, mental illness could just become a little less crazy and a lot more normal.

Networking

The word “networking” has been coming up for me a lot this past month. Up until last week, I had shunned all attempts by strangers or casual acquaintances to meet for coffee. I did this for a few reasons. One is my days off are precious, full of errands and me time. I guard them like a momma honey badger. The second is I like to keep boundaries between my professional and personal life. Lastly, it hasn’t felt right and I couldn’t see a reason for doing it.  So when I received her email asking me if I’d like to have coffee, surprisingly, I didn’t hesitate. I immediately said, “Let’s do it!”

Several years ago my very wise bestie Charmaine said something to me that altered my life.  As we were sipping adult beverages by the shore of her parent’s lake cabin, we were talking about commitments. I was recently divorced and still very new to knowing about this spiritual growth stuff. She said, “Here’s how I try to live my life (I think she was all of 25 at the time). I examine each request I receive. If I immediately know I want (not should or need) to do it, I commit on the spot. If it has merit but I’m not sure, I’ll think about it and tell the person I need more time. If it doesn’t feel right or if it’s not for me, I’ll decline the invitation. Where it gets tricky is when I feel I should do such and such but my heart isn’t in it. Even with that kind of stuff, I sit with it for a while and if it feels like a chore, I won’t do it.”

I’m taking some creative license with my memory. I think, in truth, Charmaine said something like, “I won’t do something because it is socially expected of me. I don’t care if it’s a family, work or social obligation. If it feels wrong, I won’t accept the request even if my family feels I’m letting them down.”

Some time ago I wrote a blog entitled, “No” where I talked about my reaction to trying to get out of things I’d committed to but didn’t really want to do. Does praying for a natural disaster sound familiar to anyone? Uh huh. I thought so.

Over the course of the years I’ve learned how to sit with stuff and if it doesn’t feel right, I won’t commit. So let’s get back to the coffee date.  Maybe I agreed because I read energy for a living and I knew her energy was not manipulative. She didn’t want something from me and there wasn’t an ulterior motive. She was open and honest and very complimentary about my blogs (oooh yes, pet my ego..purrr….purrrrr…meeYOWWW). She’s also a fabulous woman who, at almost 40 (yes, I received permission to publish her age), is coming into her own by making decisions that may not win the popularity vote with family or friends, but they feel right to her.

We talked about our lives and loves and about ¾ of the way through our chat, I discovered I had ordered a caffeinated beverage and was talking faster than an auctioneer. Truly. And I, by nature and geographic location, am already a fast talker. I heard my voice becoming even more Alvin and the Chipmunk-like and I stopped mid-sentence, took a breath, leveled a gaze at her and said, “Shit. My coffee is caffeinated.”

I’m telling you this because even then I felt completely at ease. Maybe it’s being in my late forties. Maybe it was her energy. Maybe it was mine. I don’t know. I was comfortable with who I was and who I had become. I wasn’t worried about pepper in my teeth or the fact that I didn’t do my hair. I wasn’t concerned I wouldn’t know what to say or how to act or that I’d be judged for my choice of careers. I wasn’t worried about coming off as professional or (God FORBID) unprofessional. I was just being me and I was having fun.

It was a turning point for me and I will be forever grateful to Marilyn for conquering one of her fears by stepping out on the skinny branch (as she termed it) and asking me out for coffee. It helped me realize I no longer need to put on a public persona or act a certain way (old issue). It felt really good to make a new friend and to awaken a new healing awareness within myself.

It also felt really good to be able to share our knowledge in ways that mutually benefited us.  That, my friends, is the type of networking I’ll do all day long as it feels less like a chore and more like an extension of the Work I do while I’m in session.

(Side Note: If any of you know a Networking group you think would be able to handle me, ooops, – cough – I mean I would enjoy and be able to make valuable contributions to, please let me know.)

Rudeness

 

Disrespect, rudeness and being impolite are MAJOR hot buttons of mine. Lately those buttons have been pushed to their limits. When something bothers a person intensely, it’s likely because that person may hold themselves to a higher standard. You would never think to treat a person in the manner in which you are being treated so when it happens to you, it irritates the (bleep) out of you.

My mom and dad instilled in us manners and respect. Rudeness was not tolerated. They taught us to say please and thank you. They taught us to hold open doors for others.  They even taught us (gasp!) to call if we couldn’t make an appointment.

Somewhere between them, me and the next generation(s), manners and respect have taken a backseat to rudeness. It feels like some people are just SOOOOO self-important they deem it acceptable to talk loudly on their cell phones, continue their phone conversations while they are getting their hair cut, in the check-out line or receiving a pedicure. They text their spouse when they want a divorce and yet can’t be bothered to use the cell phone to cancel a scheduled appointment.

I don’t understand why others feel they can treat human beings so impolitely, rudely and disrespectfully.  Is it because they are just too busy for social etiquette? Is it because they are narcissistic? Is it because ‘everyone’ does it? Or is it because they haven’t learned (or are un-learning) how to show respect or what manners are?

My husband left for Minot at 5 am to meet with two clients. One client decided not to show for his requested and confirmed meeting. He didn’t call my husband and he didn’t answer my husband’s phone call. Keep in mind, this guy REQUESTED my husband drive to Minot (4 ½ hours’ drive time – one way) because he didn’t want a teleconference. Normally, in situations like this, I’d hope everything was OK and give the person the benefit of a doubt but apparently this guy was well enough to let his work know at 8am he was ‘taking the day off.’

Some time ago, I wrote a blog entitled, “Hello” where I spoke about people not returning my greeting.  I am applying this same dynamic to school age children (6 through 16) as I walk my 22 month old to daycare. I say “hi,” “hello” or even “good morning” to each child I pass. About 50% of them ignore me.  One little prima donna was sooooo into her phone she refused to look up or move so we could pass.  I said “Excuse us” twice before she gave me the stink eye and disdainfully moved two inches. I ended up using the grass to get around her. Whaaa???? Evidently she slept through the ‘Respect Your Elders’ portion of her politeness class, too.

My husband will spend hours putting together a professional bid and have it to the requester before the deadline. He’ll not receive a response, even though he’s requested a read receipt. This leaves him wondering if his email went into a spam filter. He’ll type another response, resend and not hear a word.

He’s not the only one with the issue; I am no stranger to having requested information go unacknowledged and I bet all of you reading this blog are nodding your heads in agreement. Evidently some people can’t be bothered with this small bit of social etiquette.

Do you know how long it takes to type ‘thank you’ and press send on your computer?  It literally takes two to three seconds. Yes, anal-retentive me timed myself. Well duh!

In today’s technology world, a world that is supposed to make our lives easier, how is it we are too busy to send a 6 second text or a 30 second email?

Have we, with our smart-phones, our 60 hour work weeks and our self-perceived importance forgotten that it takes one second to greet someone or about 8 seconds to hold open a door? Have we forgotten that ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ shouldn’t be optional? Have we deemed others so beneath us that they don’t warrant a response or a fragment of our time?

To me, it feels like this digital age revolution is becoming too high-tech for old fashioned manners.

Money

The relief I needed came in the form of a whisper just as I was falling asleep.  I’ve known for years the Ascended Beings find it easiest to communicate when we are somewhere between drowsiness and stage one of sleep. Even for me, someone who communicates with Guardian Angels all day long, it’s often easiest for them to ‘wow’ me with this type of unexpected and clear communication.

After my divorce, I lived in an apartment. It was only supposed to be temporary, a year tops. I didn’t know when I signed the lease that my banking position was going to be eliminated. I stayed in that apartment for five years. I thought about the money I was wasting by not building equity in a home but if I spent my savings on a home (mortgage), I’d be forced to return to the 8 to 5 (7 to 6?) grind.

Money is my security blanket. I’m a saver, not a spender. Money means having the freedom to do things, buy things and not having to eat ramen noodles or cheesy rice four out of seven nights (cough). So when I decided to skip returning to mainstream Corporate America, one of my – if not the only concern – was financial.

When I started Inner Focus Reiki, it truly was a leap of faith. I knew if I was to do this, I had to continue making my savings last. That meant I had to stretch a dollar even further or risk returning to something I found distasteful. But, all is not lost! I’m not Budget Betty’s daughter for nothing! (Note: “Budget Betty” was an affectionate name us kids gave our mom. She would drive across town to return a loaf of bread if it was 25 cents cheaper elsewhere. She, of course, didn’t calculate the cost of her time and gas money into returning said bread……)

When Trinity and I became serious, I was very clear that I would not return to Corporate America and that this – Reiki – was my passion and my job. He supported me and my decision whole-heartedly. When we run into financial struggles, I repeatedly offer to return to the workplace. He steadfastly and repeatedly says no. (Thank heavens!)

So all these years, ALL THESE YEARS, I have fussed about money. I feel really good about myself when I can save, not spend. And now that I’m part of a family again, there’s something inside of me that wants to feel like I’m earning my keep or doing my (financial) part. I’m almost in a tizzy over it.

When Trinity became self-employed in March, these frantic feelings intensified. I became a crazed fool trying to think of ideas and ways I could bring in more money. It was, as my friend Shannon recently lovingly pointed out, taking some of the fun out of my Work for me.  

When I first started IFR, my goal was to help take away the pain from just one person. That was it.  It wasn’t about the money or having full classes/meditations or even coming up with the next best thing.  No. Not once. It wasn’t about putting money in savings or contributing a larger portion of the financial pie. I just wanted to help people. I told myself if my savings became dangerously low, I’d have to leave IFR and find a ‘day’ job. That, obviously, hasn’t happened but as my family grew, so did my need to feel like I was financially contributing more.

So when the Guys recently whispered that Trinity would soon be bringing in enough money to take the self-imposed financial burden off of me, I was overcome with relief. I didn’t know how much pressure I’d placed upon myself until I heard those words. I thought, “Finally! I can get back to doing what I love and not worry about money!”

As I’m finishing this blog, my mind wanders to all the things I want to accomplish while  under the umbrella of my Work. It also wanders to the dishwasher we had to replace last week, to the clothes washer we replaced this week and to the Reiki 1 class I had to cancel for next week.

Sigh. Breathing. Trusting. Freaking OUT. Breathing.

Aiden

This is an email from one of my students. I found it to be so powerful and moving that I asked for (and received) permission to publish it. I left it how Lyn wrote it as I didn’t want to diminish her energy, essence and message.

Oh yeah. Grab the kleenix.  And Lyn, thanks for allowing me to share this story with my blog readers.

“You better sit down for this one….

Two weeks ago on Monday, my sister Mary, (who I’ve asked you to send Reiki before) and her husband Jeff had the worst experience a parent could have.  Their sweet 10 year old son, Aiden, died mysteriously in his sleep.  He was a special needs little boy with Fragile X which I may have told you about…so he was 10 but had the mental capacity of about a 5 year old.  He went to school – main streamed – and did so well.  He was a sweet, sweet boy and always asked people if they were happy.

Mary went to wake him up on Monday morning for school and she found him dead on the floor.  To say that this has been a nightmare for both Mary and Jeff is slight.  John and I drove as fast as we could to MN to be with them.  I stayed with them until last Thursday.

There is so much that happened but I wanted to tell you about a few things.  Mary, my aunt, and you are the few I can share some of my experiences because YOU KNOW.

The morning that Aiden died, I woke from a crazy dream about 6am (7 central) where I was frantically trying to call 911 and it was all jumbled up.   Mary was calling 911 at that time.

When I got to her house, she said she was afraid to go back into Aiden’s room because he had died laying on his stomach so he was all purple when she found him – and not the way she wanted to remember Aiden. She asked if I could clear the room. I really didn’t know what the hell I was going to do but thought I’d give it a try.

When I went in the room, there was an extreme heaviness – dark pressure but I knew it wasn’t Aiden. So I opened all the windows used Reiki to fill the room with love and peace – swooshing the dark energy out the windows, putting my hands on the floor where Aiden had laid and tried to calm the area asking for whatever was holding itself in the room to leave. After that, I sat on the bed and was quiet, asking for further guidance. I heard we should change the bedding and put on white sheets and a fresh blanket and Aiden’s favorite blanket, when Mary was ready to do this. I asked Aiden to help his mom release the image of him on the floor and let her know it was not him…it was just the body. And then I left.

Hours later Mary and I both went in the room and it felt light. The next day we changed the bedding and the room remained quiet.

One evening before I went to bed, I went into Aiden’s room (which was right across from the room I was staying in) and knelt on the floor and laid my head down on his soft blanket. Gracie the cat was sitting on the edge of the bed next to me. I was overwhelmed with sadness and I prayed and cried hard. When I stopped and looked up, Gracie was sitting right in front of me with her face an inch away. She looked at me with big brown eyes and reached out her paw and tapped me a couple times on the chest – in a strange, reaching, comforting way.

I left the room. Gracie followed me into my room and hopped up on the bed by me. I looked at her and SHE HAS GREEN EYES. I swear Melissa, when she looked at me she had brown eyes – Aiden has big brown eyes. I didn’t tell Mary for a couple days because I thought I had taken a short ride on the looney train but I know it was real. I believe it was Aiden comforting me.  Mary believed me.

I also gave her Reiki on the day of Aiden’s funeral.  It helped her to clear her mind for a bit and stop thinking.

I continue to send Mary Reiki almost daily and she uses it when she needs calm.  Without Reiki, this incredibly sad situation would have been even sadder.  I (we – as in all the wise ones) were able to share bits of peace and a lot of love through it all.   I am ever so grateful that you and I made our connection and that I better understand how truly POWERFUL it is.  Over the past couple months I have had experiences and your encouragement that have me the confidence to share Reiki without hesitation in a situation where nothing else would help.

Of course Aiden’s death has changed us all but I have a new light in me that I don’t quite have words for…and I’m not trying too hard to label it….because it’s all good!

Your ever grateful student……………..Lyn”

Change

I’ll be the first to admit I don’t like big changes. I like changing my hair color and nail polish and even mixing up my gym classes, but big changes? Nope.  The type of changes I’m talking about are the ones that involve letting go of something that feels as comfortable as a fuzzy blanket on a cold day. I’m talking about something that is or has been a large part of you for any given length of time.

To me, big changes are scary. It feels like an upheaval or even a burden. It’s the unknown that gets me, you know? I know what I have now, and it works, but I don’t know what a change will bring. This is a difficult concept for a recovering control-a-holic.

I had a client yesterday who, when the ‘out with the old, in with the new’ channeled message came through for her, said she didn’t like change all that much either. However, we both agreed that almost every time we’ve decided to embrace the big stuff, we’ve looked back and said, ‘what took me so long?!’

I’m a gal who didn’t get on the texting bandwagon until three years ago. All my friends had it, including my husband, but I didn’t want it. I was happy with my little un-smart cell phone. It did all I needed it to do; answer and send calls.  It took me YEARS to get a cell phone (remember, Michele and Charmaine?!), then when I did I glommed on to it like it was my first born.

My husband kept insisting I upgrade and I insisted he stuff it. Then came a point where I thought it would be kind of cool to have a camera on my phone. I upgraded to another un-smart phone and it was the cat’s meYOOwww (it doesn’t take much to please me, evidently). I also started texting but I had a lot of fear surrounding that. I didn’t want to be available 24/7/365. I didn’t want to be that plugged in or connected. Texting felt like an intrusion and it also felt really foreign (when has something new/different NOT felt foreign?!).

I stumbled through feelings of ineptness while using the old ‘hunt and peck’ typing method. But I learned and I learned quickly. I actually found myself (gasp!) LIKING texting.  Pishaw!  I had resisted it for SO long and now I can’t live without it.

That’s just one story. I could go on and on about how I like to resist change. Oy!

As of Monday, the Guys are saying the old way is out. If you try to do things the old way, you are going to be met with resistance (translation: a brick wall).  But, I LIKE the old way! It’s comfortable and it was working well for me up until this latest energy shift. Bawaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh.

This shift has left me feeling overwhelmed and at times, debilitated. It’s been difficult for me to practice what I know.  When you’re feeling like you’re in an abyss, it’s really difficult to remember what you’re supposed to do to get back to the mountain top or even a North Dakota hill. Luckily, for me, Reiki is my saving grace. When I do my Work, I am able to get ‘clear’ and once again see things (and hear things) from a higher perspective.

My Monday clients helped with that as it was during both their sessions I heard you just can’t continue doing things the old way and expect them to work in the new energy.

But, I don’t know HOW to do things the new way, I only know the old. I haven’t learned or been educated in the new way. The dreaded familiar sense of feeling unsupported wafted over me like the smell of limburger cheese on a hot radiator.

So I said (whined), “I’m so frustrated and I feel completely unsupported. Why is everything (drama!) feeling so difficult? Are you telling me I should get out of Reiki?! Do you WANT me to continue doing my Work?! Give a girl some help here, brothahhhhhs!”

As soon as I was done with that highly unrealistic rant (there really are so many wonderful, supported things happening with my Work), I heard, “Use social media. Send out your requests to the masses. Let them help.”  Uh…. (head scratch)…..oooooooohhhh (blink).

Ok. I’ll step out of my comfort zone and try something new with my blog readers. I’d like to find a way for my blogs to reach more people. Are there any magazine/newspaper/on-line publication (etc.) personnel who can help me with this??

Well, that didn’t feel as needy as I thought it would. Huh. I have other requests as well, but I’m feeling to vulnerable to address them right now.

Hey! Epiphany alert! A thought just occurred to me on change. Every change is triggered by a need or desire for something different and in most cases, something better. Right? So once there is a want, energy is given to that need/desire by thinking about it. Then it’s brought into reality by physically taking action to make the change happen.

Huh. Were you aware of that? It makes sense and it kind of eases the fear of big change for me. But only just a little.

Fate (part II)

Susie, whom I often call my aloe vera plant, calmed me down and helped me see things with spiritual eyes. She reassured me that I’d be ok and that I didn’t want Trinity as he was. She said he wouldn’t and couldn’t be the man I needed him to be and he wouldn’t be the man he wanted to be if he didn’t tie up some loose ends.  She went on to say this was really a good thing as it looked like Trinity was trying to heal some old wounds. She also said she admired Trinity for tackling this and working through it. She felt Trinity might have been scared by his feelings for me and he was trying to outrun them. Yeah, I get that.

Those words, the choice of words, calmed me.  Remember my ‘Beauty’ blog about seeing things with spiritual eyes? This was the start of me learning how to do just that.

Susie called me several times a day for over a week. She’s the best mother hen to have in your corner when you are in the fetal position and don’t understand a dang thing about anything. She calmed me, time and time again, with her spiritual and reassuring maternal voice. I think back to the kindness she showed me when I was so helpless and it brings tears to my eyes.

She kept telling me Trinity and I had unfinished business. Her spiritual words resonated with me and I think Trinity had felt it too as he had kept repeating, “I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. I don’t know if this is right” when he was dumping me. I held tight to both of their words.

Both my nieces were ready to kill Trinity. They had very harsh words to say about him and I had to tell them it wasn’t helpful, nor did I want to hear it. I told them it was OK for Trinity to try and finish loose ends and he was doing what he felt was right. He hadn’t kept me hanging on and he hadn’t been unfaithful. He was doing what he needed to do in order to better himself. To hear him, the man I loved, belittled and called names did not sit well with me. I get it though, someone hurts someone you love, all you can think to do is trash talk them but it’s not helpful. At least it wasn’t for me.

What Susie did for me spiritually, Charmaine did for me emotionally and physically. She took me under her wing and kept me very busy on weekends. We would have great talks, long walks and even though I was adamant Trinity would return to me, she gently encouraged me to keep my options open.

While I was trying to heal, I would hear snippets of what Trinity was doing. Through the grapevine I was told he left me for the ex-girlfriend who had called him the night I was painting. Now, if that doesn’t drive a knife right through a woman’s heart, I don’t know what would. Interestingly enough, he later told me she wasn’t interested in a relationship. Karma, baby. Karma.

Then I heard he had sold his West Fargo home and moved to Mankato to be with a gal. That almost wrecked me. I kept wondering when he was going to come back to me and it felt like I was being silly holding on to that dream. Plus, I was angry that he seemed to be over me so quickly when I was sure he knew I was his One.

Then the Universe stepped in. I started seeing the number “3” everywhere. I’d hear songs on the radio and I knew they were messages from my Guys.  I even had a few random encounters where I would see Trinity but he didn’t see me. Once he was riding his motorcycle and I passed him. When I recognized him, I had to pull over as my leg was shaking so badly I couldn’t press the gas pedal. Who’s with me on that?! Hum on!

After that, I had a complete crying breakdown. I said, “What is he doing?! I can’t wait much longer, God. I am SO lonely. I’ve learned what I needed to learn. What is he DOING?! WHY hasn’t he called?!” Then to the astral version of Trinity I said, “Hurry up and learn what you need to learn, Trinity. Hurry up!”

News reached me that Trinity was no longer with the Mankato gal and he had moved back to Fargo. (Come ON, Trinity…HURRY UP!!!) It was also about that time Charmaine mentioned ideas as to how I could meet men. What she was suggesting, while considered the norm these days, held no interest for me. I didn’t want to do on-line dating or go on blind dates. It just didn’t feel right and in truth, it didn’t feel necessary.

Finally, one evening during Grey’s Anatomy (back when Grey’s was goooooood), my phone rang. I answered and heard, “Hello, Melissa.” Without waiting for him to identify himself I said, “Hello Trinity” and he replied, “Can we talk?”

As a smile split my face, my eyes looked toward the ceiling and a huge wave of gratitude and relief rolled through me. Tears formed in my eyes and I mouthed a silent, ‘Thank you, THANK YOU!!’ to God. To Trinity I giggled and said, “Sure! What TOOK you so long?!”

Fate (Part I)

 

There were so many teaser attempts to bring my husband and I together. We are both from the same home town, although I left at age 3. I lived in Minot, he lived in Minot. I moved to Fargo, he moved to Fargo. He was my youngest niece’s good friend all through high school and during her college years. I had heard her talk of Trinity often. Given these and other similarities, it’s odd we didn’t meet until after we were both married. My niece (Jessica) introduced us while my starter husband and I were in the process of building our home. Would you like to guess who installed the sound system in that home? Yep, Trinity.

Based on the fact that he was (and still is, I guess) six years younger than me and the fact I only knew him in a professional manner, I thought of him as ‘a very professional young man.’  And that’s that.  That’s where the story could have ended but as time marched on, we both became divorced. Jessica, through casual conversation, kept me in the loop on Trinity’s disastrous marriage and subsequent divorce.

A few years later, Jessica tells me Trinity is looking for some decorating advice and would it be OK for her to give him my phone number. Why sure! He’s a nice young man and at that time I was leaning towards taking up interior design as a profession.  Bet you didn’t know THAT about me, did ya? It’s a good thing it didn’t work out or IFR never would have come to be.

Trinity called me and while I was under the assumption he wanted my hand at picking paint colors, he was more concerned with how he could get his hands on me (can you blame him?!). We were visiting and the next thing I knew, he had morphed into a human octopus. He had his hands all over me and his tongue was half way down my throat.  EUWWW! GROSS!

In shock, I kissed back for a few seconds and then thought, “Eww. Yuck! He feels like a brother, not a boyfriend and WHERE did this all come from?! EWWWWWWW!”  I pushed him away and demanded to be brought home. I sat as far away from him and his tentacles as I could. I literally was hugging the passenger door.  Needless to say, there was no kiss goodbye. In some ways, he already had his kiss goodbye, if you know what I mean. I took my color swatches and marched my arse straight up to my apartment where I sat with my jaw hanging open in disbelief.

Mr. Kissy Face Octopus Gropey Hands called me when he got home and asked what had happened. Really?! Was I giving off signals that I wanted you to see if I had a tonsillectomy?! WITH YOUR TONGUE?! He said he took it as a good sign when I kissed back. Oh good Lord. He later (much later) admitted he thought I was smokin’ hot the first time he met me. Double oh good Lord.

I wasn’t sure I could get past feeling like his big sister and the false pretenses of him getting me to come over. He later admitted the whole interior decorating thing was a ruse. (eyeroll) Well LeDUH!

I must have been one brick short of a load as I agreed to go have supper with him. Maybe I was thinking it was a public place and he couldn’t get all handsy with me. I’d seen his type before. He was a total playah. He’d already told me he’d dated a lot (understatement) of women since his divorce and I had absolutely no intention of being a notch on his bedpost.  I knew, from uhhh experience, about men ‘like him’ and I knew I didn’t want anything to do with that. I wasn’t a player and I’d had my crazy what-was-I-thinking-oh-my-GAWD-why-did-I-do-that episodes after my own divorce.

That supper turned into another and another and pretty soon we had been dating for  almost two months. Somehow he had talked me into painting several rooms inside of his house.  At the time I was working for a professional painter/wallpaper hanger and he had taught me well.  Yes, another hat I was wearing before IFR came into light.  

When I was finishing painting the last room, he had opened a bottle of wine, checked his voice mail and said, “Huh. I just got a message from a girl I used to date. That’s weird. I wonder what she wants.”  Uh oh, boys and girls. Trouble ahead!

I had a fleeting feeling this was going to be trouble but by then I knew, I KNEW I loved this man and I suspected he loved me. I knew he was the One. I just knew it. Years and years ago I had gone to a psychic who said, “You’re not ready for him yet and he’s not ready for you. But he’s had a lot of women and he’s very…ummm…spicy.”  Yep, that would describe Trinity. But it went beyond what a psychic said. It was a feeling that I can’t explain but those of you who’ve experienced it understand what I’m yammering about.

After that phone call, he became distant. I saw him less and less. He didn’t call as much and I was trying my best not to call him as I was trying to do the “George.” I knew something was terribly wrong when I was unable to drive myself to a doctor appointment and he told me he couldn’t help me. Bad show, old boy. Bad show!

A few days later I was still in severe pain from a recently diagnosed kidney infection. Trinity came over to help with my computer and he was acting weird. He wouldn’t touch me, he wouldn’t look at me and he didn’t kiss me. What the what?!  I didn’t have the strength to talk with him about it but I knew. I didn’t want to believe it, but I knew.  In fact, if memory serves, I think Jessica might have even said, “Do you think he has another girlfriend?”  Hummmm….

A day later he called and said, “I have to break up with you. I’m not sure if I’m doing the right thing, but I can’t see you anymore. I don’t know if this is right but I just have to break up with you.”  Blink. Blink. Blink. Whaaa?  True to form, when I’m under extreme duress, I become very calm and I morph into a plan of action type of girl.  I remember calmly saying, “Ok. Go do what you need to do.”  I had to stop myself from finishing that sentence with, “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

He hung up. I stared at the phone. My very dry mouth hung open to my chest. What the hell just happened? I was in shock. I didn’t cry or freak out and I think it’s because I didn’t have any blood left in my upper body.

I called Susie and said, “He broke up with me. Trinity just broke up with me.” And then I burst into tears.

Click here for more: Fate (part ii)

Answers

I jokingly tell clients if I had all the answers, I would charge a $1000 an hour and I would be living somewhere that isn’t below freezing for 6 months of the year. I’d also be super rich as I would have accurately predicted lotto numbers and helped scientists determine when California was going to fall into the ocean and discovered the cure for cancer…and… and….

Often people think intuitives are all knowing. They think we have the answers to every single question they can ask. At least that’s what I thought when I was a client of intuitives/psychics.  But it’s not accurate. We all have limits.

When I was a client of Susie’s, I asked her about this. My thought was that as an intuitive she should know anything and everything but she said if we were given all the answers, we could not handle it. Our human brain literally could not grasp all the responses as we are not super computers. We are humans and as such we simply cannot wrap our minds around answers that we are not evolutionarily or genetically ready to hear/understand. It’s like trying to explain Sir Isaac Newton’s Theory of Gravity to a two year old. They will not understand the answer even though they may have asked why an apple fell from a tree.

I have friends, clients and in all honesty, myself, who have demanded answers or responses to questions about physical events from the Guys. Sometimes they answer and sometimes they don’t and the reason for that varies. It may be because the person, on some level, doesn’t want to hear the answer. Sometimes the question is too subjective (i.e. “Will I be OK?”). Sometimes they don’t respond because YOU don’t have the answer and still, other times, they don’t know the answer. They are not omnipotent; they are Guardian Angels concerned with your spiritual growth.

So if you’re seeking responses to questions of the physical and you don’t receive them, know that we aren’t meant or even capable of knowing everything. Well, at least not while we are in human form. When you cross back from where you came, you’ll have ALL your questions answered before you can form the question. True that.