Alcoholism

After the debacle of my starter marriage, I made sure my eyes were open when I started dating my forever husband. He, like me, was a mild social drinker. He would have a glass of wine at night, maybe a beer, maybe two.  We would have more on weekends or when we were out with friends. Somewhere along the line though, something changed for him. During our first couple years of marriage, I noticed he was drinking 5 to 6 beers a night (Miller Lite, if you can even call that watery beer a beer. I’ve become such a beer snob!).

If you’ve been a reader of my blogs, you’ll understand how Trinity has helped me heal my own pain throughout the years. You’ll also understand how I have empowered him to do the same. He has been instrumental in me becoming the woman you know today. He has successfully done what others could not; he has helped me find and use my voice effectively. I, through gritted teeth, often tell God and my angels that they can knock off the “using my voice” lessons anytime.

I would tell him how frightened I was by his usage of alcohol. He would, in the earlier years, agree he was drinking too much and he would back off.  About 3 years ago, though, that all changed. A six pack of Miller Lite or two glasses of wine was no longer satisfying. He had moved on to Heineken, Guinness and then the high-alcohol content craft beers, not to mention bottles and then boxes of wine. As days moved into months, his consumption increased in direct proportion to my fears.

As Trinity’s drinking exceeded even his maximum, I became frantic. The way I was approaching him wasn’t working so I took several steps back. My husband has helped me overcome so much…and here was another way he did so. Instead of feeling as if my (and our daughter’s) safety was threatened by his alcohol usage, I backed off. I decided I could no longer count how many beers he had, I could no longer call it out to him and that took tremendous pressure off of me. I stepped back from sort of a parental role and decided I had made my fears known. I had been clear about his alcohol consumption and I needed to give him space to figure it out on his own.

One night he came home late and had been drinking. Our daughter was 3. He stood in our entry way with tears in his eyes and said, “I can’t stop with just one. I’ve tried. I can’t stop with just one drink.”  I thought that was it; I thought that was his rock bottom but it wasn’t even close. I would wait two more years before that happened.

After the discovery of his emotional affair in late 2015, he vowed to stop, or at least slow down his drinking. He did well for about a week and then I noticed a beer on his desk at 4:30, then at 3:00, then at noon. It would get earlier and earlier each day.  Towards the end he was drinking at 9:00 in the morning. He tells me now I didn’t know the half of how much he was drinking. For that I am thankful as what I knew terrified me.

I watched our bank accounts dwindle and I refused to say anything to him. My thought was, “He makes money, he can spend it as he sees fit.” As is the way with alcoholics, secrets and hiding things from others are a way of life. What was being charged to our credit card was only about half of what he was really spending.

In September 2016, on my birthday, he was arrested for DUI. When he told me about it, I thought two things: “This is going to financially fuck us without lube.” and “Thank you, GOD! Thank you! Maybe this is what he needs to finally get some help.” But it wasn’t. In fact, he repeatedly stated that he was only at .09 and “that’s barely over the legal limit.” He missed the point entirely. For him, .09 was barely breaking a sweat; it was his normal Blood Alcohol Content. He hired an attorney and pled down to reckless driving.

My reaction to his drinking was subconscious but I was experiencing real PTSD because of it. I didn’t put these pieces together until an amazing counselor at the VA pointed out that I felt like everything I wanted or had obtained, my entire way of life, my existence, was once again being threatened by alcohol.  This was the counselor my husband and I went to after I had my anxiety breakdown. He also witnessed my physical distress as my body shook like that of a scared dog. It was him who suggested I might be in fear for (and fighting for) my life.

(Jim, if you are reading this, I thank GOD for you every day. I didn’t have the knowledge to work through this one and you helped put some of the puzzle pieces together. There was no coincidence that I found you. Thank you for helping me heal.)

Jim pointed out that I have lost (almost) everyone I’ve loved due to the highly addictive bitch called Alcohol. They have either physically or emotionally abandoned me or I have had to leave them. This explains why I have Abandonment issues in this lifetime, doesn’t it?!! Alcohol(ism) is in both my maternal and paternal sides of the family. On a scale of 1 to 10 of how terrified I felt due to Trinity’s drinking, I was at a 12. This was a mouth-goes-dry-eyes-go-wide-body-tremors-flight-fight-or-freeze kind of 12.

I hated who he became when he was drinking. Couldn’t he see how this terrified me? Didn’t he care? Where was the man I married? He’d be horrified at the thought of hurting me. It turns out, the man I married was still in there, but his brain chemistry had changed so much that he no longer cared about anything except alcohol. He didn’t care about his health, his work, his marriage or his children; he just wanted to escape. He became mean, impatient and angry with the world. He would use vulgar, lewd and harassing language in front of our daughter. He constantly reeked of booze and when he would touch me in ways I viewed as volatile, he would belligerently laugh as I rebuked him.

He was really bringing out the big guns to get me to leave our marriage. He was fighting against growing spiritually and dealing with his emotional pain. He still viewed himself as unworthy and unloveable and he was trying to avoid the spiritual Mack truck that was bearing down upon him.

I had made a vow before him and God that I was never going to leave him and I meant it.  As with his affair, he expected me to leave him because that was what people in his life did. He wanted me to leave him so he didn’t have to face reality. At one point, towards the very end when he was drunk and having a pity party for one, he insinuated he was going to ask me for a divorce.

I nonchalantly thought, “Go ahead buddy. I’m not afraid of being alone anymore. You’ve made me stronger. I no longer fear abandonment. I know Ceta and I will be just fine without you but know this; We’ve been through too much and I’m NOT leaving you. You do it, you call it quits, after all it’s what you do, Mr. Avoidance but I believe we made a commitment to help each other overcome our past life issues. I’ve been there for you and I’ve given you a safe place to do just that. I trust you’d do the same for me. I am NOT leaving.”

The truth of the matter was I wasn’t sure how much longer I could physically do this.

 

 


This is the second of a trilogy of blogs: 
Part 1: Alcoholic
Part 2: Alcoholism
Part 3: Sober

~ For background reading pertaining to this blog:
Anxiety
Unloveable
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Priestess

I saw a petite, slender woman clad in a deep emerald green velvet cloak. The hood of her cloak was large and hid her face. Tied at her waist was a golden cord with golden tassels. She walked with confidence, grace and surety. Her pace was not too fast, not too slow.

I heard she was “amassing her fiend*” by finding/collecting people, crystals, small bottles filled with healing potions/herbs/animal parts, etc. This woman had very carefully thought out her selections. I could sense she was very, very powerful and would not be harmed by man or beast as she moved about on her journey.

As I was describing this vision to my client, I saw a pair of large, ice blue eyes float into my intuitive vision. No face, just eyes. I knew they were hers. At that moment I heard, “Priestess.”  My physical eyes widened, I inhaled a startled breath and I sputtered, “Lisa! Oh my GOD! YOU! Lisa! This person is a Priestess! She was/is YOU!”

Lisa, my sweet, spiritual neophyte (bucket list word!) who is gently opening and growing her intuitive self in this lifetime, widened her beautiful hazel green eyes. She swept her arm up over her head and, using her elbow, rose slightly from the Reiki table. She excitedly said, “That’s what the gal from Canada JUST told me! She said I was a Celtic Priestess!”

As a side note, I wasn’t sure if this Priestess was Celtic or not, but later, in USBank’s drive through, I was thinking about this and the word “Druid” popped into my head. Druid? Isn’t that a phone? Since USBank’s drive through is routinely excruciatingly slow, I immediately googled it. Wouldn’t ‘cha know, there IS such a thing as Celtic/Druid Priestess. Win for Psychic Canada Girl and win for Intuitive USA Girl!

I focused my attention on the Priestess, again.  She spoke to me without physically speaking.  As she extended a flawless, well-manicured and youthful hand towards me, she said, “I will help you heal.” In my head, I looked around to see if she was talking to me. It appeared she was. I started to say, “I don’t need healing” but quickly changed my tune and said, “Uhhh. Ok. Sure. Thank you.”  Who am I to question a mega-powerful Priestess from the past who wants to help me heal.

I mentally reached out to take her hand, but it wasn’t my hand that I saw. It was the large, gnarled, big-boned hand of an ancient crone. As our hands connected, I saw the hand and the arm of the crone begin to shimmer. It was as if her skin had become a thousand flesh-colored butterflies and they were all lifting off at once. The process began at her fingers, moved to her hand, wrist and up her arm.  I could hear the audible noise of an atomic clock resetting itself after its battery had been replaced. As I watched the butterflies rise and disappear, I refocused my eyes on the arm. It had morphed into a more youthful hand and arm. It was also much more feminine in size and had no hint of being gnarled or aged.

I looked up at the face of the hand/arm and it was either a completely different woman or it was the crone in her late 50’s. The energy of this woman and that of the crone was different as was their physical bone structure. This woman had very short, coarse, thick, badly cut dark black hair. Her face was smudged with dirt or ash. Her clothes were barely rags. They were moth eaten and way too big for her emaciated frame.  The clothing was also a different style, or era, than the crones.

No sooner had I taken in this visage when the butterflies started fluttering their wings again. They lifted off and I watched as the emaciated woman with the thick black hair dissolved into a young maiden. She was wearing a blue hooded cloak, which was tied with a delicate bow at her throat. Her head was ensconced within the hood but some of her light brown hair cascaded out of the hood where it softly curled around her neck and shoulders.  Her cheeks were pink with the flush of youth; her eyes were blue and alive. Her smile was captivating and innocent and her face was unlined. She was lovely.  She, too, carried different energy than the others.

That is where the Priestess and my interaction ended. I’m still unsure if the women were me at different times during my lives or if they were someone else. It could be that she healed some past-life mumbo jumbo so that I’ll be free of it in this lifetime. Interestingly enough, I had recently asked my Guides (The Guys) to help me with just that.

As I’m explaining this to Lisa, it hits me that she doesn’t have a clue as to her simmering intuitive/healing power in this lifetime. I want to bow before her and she doesn’t have a clue as to her greatness, her immense and unending power. The energy they possess is like Niagara Falls. It is powerful, magnificent, commanding and must be respected. Niagara Falls has changed the Earth’s landscape just as the Priestess/Lisa have (will) changed the spiritual one.

(No pressure, Lisa. HAHAHAHA! Seriously. Don’t even sweat it. You’ve got this!)

* A “Fiend” per Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary, 1975, is described as, “A person remarkably clever at something: Wizard.”

 

Unloveable

As a child, this petite freckle-nosed boy with unevenly cut bangs, cried at the supper table one night because he wanted to move back to his old house. He begged his mom, tears streaming down his face, to be able to do so. His mom, who had recently remarried, moved her children into a new home and now his older brother and he had separate bedrooms. This sensitive boy was crying because he wanted to be near his brother.

His mom tirelessly worked two jobs to provide food, clothing and shelter for her two growing boys. Child support wasn’t enforced back then and his dad chose not to pay the measly court ordered amount of $125 a month for both him and his brother. She was a waitress who had a quick smile and even quicker wit. Customers would come to the restaurant just for her. But each night, after working long shifts, she would go home, put her feet up and spread her tip money out on the kitchen table. She would unerringly count it as each penny was precious and needed. Sometimes the sensitive boy watched her openly and sometimes from a hiding spot.

They were all saving for a trip to Disney World. She would put a few cents in the jar as would the boys.  The sensitive child and his brother would do odd jobs so they could put money into the jar. As the vacation fund grew, so did the eight year old’s excitement.

One day, upon returning home from grade school, all the money in the jar was gone. Practicality had taken over and the money was needed for unfrivolous bills.  The sensitive boy felt emotionally crushed and burst into tears. Even though it was promised by a mother who was caught between a rock and a hard place, the trip to Disney World never materialized.

Years came and went. Step-fathers came and went and as this sensitive boy grew into adolescence, he began feeling abandoned by those he unconditionally loved. His biological dad was long out of the picture and his step-dads, some of whom disappeared without a word never to be heard from again, left this boy with unanswered questions, confusion and sadness. He learned not to get attached to them because sometimes they didn’t stick around long.

He often felt unseen, invaluable and that he wasn’t good enough, loveable enough.  He started feeling as if his jock of an older brother got the lion’s share of his mother’s love and that his older brother could do no wrong in her eyes.

As this adolescent grew into a young adult, he started acting out. He would use his fists to settle arguments…or just because he could. He would physically and verbally spar with his older brother. He would seek out women in order to soothe the deep “I’m unloveable” wound that was growing inside of him. Each time he won a fist fight, obtained a difficult award, broke an athletic record, brought more money in than his brother or conquered an otherwise unconquerable sexual conquest, he would mentally raise his middle finger towards his mom in an “Aha! I’ll show YOU I’m loveable” way.

This wound grew and grew. His mom was busy working to make ends meet and to provide shelter for her boys. But the sensitive boy would inwardly cry when his mother didn’t attend his wrestling tournaments but attended his brother’s sporting events. His heart broke into a thousand pieces when she was unable or unwilling to attend his coveted Senior Parent’s Night for wrestling. He wanted her there so badly. His eyes searched the crowd for her constantly, but she was not there.

This hardened the sensitive boy’s heart. He joined the Army and did two tours overseas. He saw things, and was asked to do things – IN THE NAME OF HIS COUNTRY – that no 18 year old…no person of ANY age…should ever, EVER do.

His work ethic was strong and the Army liked his ‘can do’ attitude. He quickly rose through the military ranks which meant more responsibility and more emotional collateral damage. In the end, this Eagle Scout became an Army Ranger, the elite of the elite.

This boy, the boy who desperately wanted his mother’s approval and love, was working hard (whether he knew it or not) to prove he was loveable and worthy. What he may not have realized is that his mom had taught him the value of hard work and a penny earned. He strove to be the best of the best. He strove to learn something about everything. He was an insatiable reader and often felt he needed to prove himself again and again. Everything he touched he gave his all. If he didn’t know the answer, he’d research it. If he didn’t know how to perform a task, he’d learn with each failure. He excelled.

While he was a rock star at mastering physical tasks, he was often a failure at emotional tasks. “Avoidance” could have been his middle name. Perhaps he was never taught how to talk through conflicts. Perhaps he was taught to use passive-aggressive abuse to his advantage.  Perhaps he felt he needed to yell and draw upon anger in order to show his worth.

When it came to matters of the heart, this sweet little boy with the sun-kissed nose often failed. He was afraid to get emotionally close to the opposite sex. He sometimes used women as though they were objects. He often exploited them and once he got what he wanted, he dropped them like a hot potato. He was physically fit, devilishly handsome, had a disarming smile and had learned that flirting and nice words often got him what he wanted. He had found a surrogate way to get (his mother’s) attention and love.

With a failed marriage under his belt, he was serial dating once again. His relationship with both his mother and his brother was rocky at best. His mom said he changed once he came back from the war. His brother said he would always love him but didn’t always like him. He set out to avoid anything emotional at all costs. When things got heavy emotionally in his relationships, he tapped out. He did this until he met a woman who was different from all the rest. This woman saw his childhood pain and his beauty even if he didn’t.

She was tackling her own demons but with his help, she overcame a few of them so she could help him with his. And while she tried and tried to get him to see that he WAS loveable and WAS worthy, he never believed it. Not once. Not in his brain and not in his ravaged heart.

As his relationship grew and thrived with this woman, his relationship with his mother and brother was also back on track.  They were all talking again, albeit guardedly but the peace didn’t last long. His brother was the first to excommunicate him. This sensitive boy – now well into his adult years – took that to mean he truly WASN’T worthy. His own brother; one that he idolized and often tried to best academically and physically, the one person who was in the proverbial childhood trenches with him, had effectively passive-aggressively cast him out.  There was no talking about it, there was no closure; just a symbolical slamming of a door that left this sensitive boy feeling as if he truly was not loveable.

His on-again/off-again relationship with his mother was shaky. She often overstepped boundaries and imposed her will upon her youngest son. She was stubborn, he was stubborn. She was gregarious, he was gregarious.  He was protective, she was protective.

The woman that this sensitive boy married was unsure of her new mother-in-law. She, the mother-in-law, was larger than life, had a HUGE personality and appeared to others as the belle of the ball. But inside, inside of her, something was different; off. The wife sensed it; intuited it. Nobody else saw it, which made her question herself but the wife trusted her gut and was weary. She watched her mother-in-law through spiritually squinted eyes.  You see, she, the wife, was protective of her husband, too.

Months passed with colorful commentary and family suppers; then something abruptly changed. First it was his brother, his beloved larger-than-life brother, who had an angry exchange with the sensitive boy and then cut off all ties with him. This left the sensitive boy angry and resentful for he was learning the value of talking through misunderstandings and miscommunications. On the heels of his big brother disowning him, his mother broke off all contact with the sensitive boy and his small family.

He tried and tried to speak with her. He would invite her to his family gatherings, daughter’s birthday parties. He would leave pleading messages with her on her voice mail to call him so they could work through this. He stopped by her home but she wouldn’t answer the door. He felt confused; he didn’t understand what he had done that was so heinous that his mother would treat him, his wife and their toddler daughter this way.

Months passed and he tried to reach out to his mother again. He left her numerous voice mails, each time asking her to tell him what happened so he could work through it. Each plea for a return phone call was left unanswered. As a final ultimatum, he told her this would be his last phone call to her; he would leave her be. He told her again he didn’t know what he had done so he couldn’t fix it. He asked for her to call him so they could resolve this. He received silence.

This sensitive boy who once cried because he missed the safety of sharing a bedroom with his older brother, was learning first hand that passive-aggressive behavior IS abusive.  He started on a downward spiral. You see he, once again, believed he was unloveable and so he started to do things to push his wife away. He felt it would be easier if she called it quits, that way he wouldn’t have to emotionally deal with any of this. His wife, his Other, was tenacious and graceful and forgiving in ways she didn’t even know she possessed. He loved her more because of this and possibly hated her a little, too.

She wasn’t going to let him slide. She believed in him. She saw his beauty. She had a (spiritual) job to do and that was to help him heal and grow. She still saw him as larger than life, even when he saw himself as unworthy and unloveable. She had loved him forever; he was her brother in a past life and in that past life he was used to running away from his problems. He was a spoiled rich boy who loved the ladies but would never commit. She was the older sister who had the family’s estate and a reputation to take care of.

She would often watch him though a thick paned glass window galloping away on a beautifully manicured brown steed. He was usually in such a hurry to get to a party or his latest tryst that he would flash her a smile and wave to her as he was attempting to put on his fluttering coattails.

He was rash and impetuous. He did not have the responsibilities she did nor did he want them. She would often simultaneously envy him for his freedom from protocol and from his life station and bemoan his impulsiveness and rakishly flirtatious manner. She knew her rapscallion brother would cause yet another scandal and she, the calm, level-headed one, would be left to clean it up.

Back in the now, life moved on. Unlike the past, the sensitive boy kept a place in his heart open for both his mother and his brother. He outwardly and vocally harbored great animosity for his brother as well, they’re brothers and brothers fight but work things out, right?  His mother though, that was a much, much tougher and deeper wound.

One day, his wife intuited that his mother was again sick; the cancer had returned. She told her husband but was quick to say it was only a sense. Weeks turned into months and still he did not hear anything from his mother or about her. Then, one day, his wife happened to be posting a message on her little used personal Facebook page. A post from one of her husband’s beloved cousins popped into view and stated that her aunt had passed. She did not post a name, just that her auntie was no longer in pain.  The wife’s eyes widened as if she needed to see the words more clearly. She knew immediately this was the sensitive boy’s mom who had died.

The wife contacted the unloveable boy and told him what she felt. He reached out to his beloved cousin and she opted to lie to him. She told him it was an aunt of her husband’s that died. She later told this boy that she lied at the explicit request of her dying aunt, his mom.

Two days later, when the unloveable boy was out of town, his wife read in the newspaper what she already knew was true in her heart; his mother had died. She was now forced to deliver the news that his trusted cousin had lied to him and that his mother had indeed passed away.

Later that day, the boy’s wife was blindly struck with an intuitive hit that changed her perception of his mother and brother’s behavior. Prior to this, she had been ranting and railing. She had been shaking her fist and loudly swearing at the departed. She had been crying for the hurting child inside of her husband’s chest. But this! Oh my GAWD, THIS! This information was so magnanimous, so amazing, so perception-altering that she could barely contain her excitement and wonderment.

In a world far away but closer than you think, a pact was made. Before any of them were even thoughts on the horizon, a pact was forged where the youngest son begged his older brother to help him overcome avoidance and self-worth issues. The older brother was all game. He was thrilled his little brother had asked him to help with such a monumental task. He felt honored and humbled. Then the little brother turned to his soon-to-be mother. He said to her, “If my brother fails or if I don’t learn to deal with avoidance, I need you to step in. I need you to help me overcome. Will you do this? CAN you do this for me? Please?” The mother, knowing it was her son’s spiritual growth at stake and as her heart burst with unconditional love, unhesitatingly said, “Yes, I will. You can count on me.”  Then she questioned him, “Are you sure you want me to do this?” And the little boy quickly answered with a large smile, “YES! Oh yes!”

All the parties involved were overjoyed that the sensitive boy was going to tackle avoidance and be given a chance to believe he was loveable.  They all felt as if they’d won the lottery by being able to help him accomplish this.  True to the astral pact, brother and mother (and a few others) physically and emotionally played their parts without fault. The parts everyone played were Oscar worthy. Do not doubt that they did so because his (spiritual) life was on the line. There was no room for error and no room for failure on their part. In it to win it.

This sensitive boy who, for his entire lifetime, yearned for his mother’s acceptance, approval and love now feels betrayed by his own family. Not one of them reached out to him. Not one of them told him his mother was ill. Not one of them told him she had died. He doesn’t understand why his mom hated him so much or why she didn’t want to say goodbye. He doesn’t understand the anger coming at him from his cousins or his brother. They say he treated his mother like crap all of her life and this confuses and confounds him. He treated HER like crap?

What did he do that warranted this treatment? What could he possibly have done that has him questioning whether his family will ban him from attending his own mother’s funeral? Why does his mother’s shrinking family not see he is still the sensitive little boy who just wanted his mother’s acceptance and love? Why is HE the bad guy?

It remains to be seen if the sensitive, “unloveable” boy will realize his own beauty, that he IS loveable and worthy and face/overcome his avoidance and self-worth issues.  His intuitive wife knows, for she is wise in the ways of Spirit, that there will be more (intense pain) to come if he doesn’t. And so she prays. Hard.

Kyle

When Corey tried to schedule a session, I didn’t have any openings until the end of June but I had a suspicion I’d get a cancellation. Sure enough, the next day I had an opening for mid-May and then within a few more days, I had another for the following week. Evidently “someone” had pulled some powerful strings as Corey was able to see me the week after his initial phone call. That’s virtually unheard of.

Corey tells me his brother, Kyle, has been appearing in his dreams and most recently, at the foot of his bed. Kyle said, “You’ve got to call her.” Corey replied he’d do it when he was ready. Kyle, in a voice that brooked no discussion said, “Now” and so Corey did. He laughs and says when Kyle used to say “jump” he would respond, “What boots do you want me to wear?”

Corey’s younger and only brother died in a tragic auto accident over two years ago as he was just beginning his adult life. He was going to college, had a girlfriend and wanted to farm the land. He was just 20 years old when he left us.

Before Corey can verbally ask Kyle says, “There was no pain.” Corey’s eyes widen and Kyle says he was unconscious once his head hit the ground. As he begins to tell me what happened, I feel a blinding headache and then all sensation from my neck down is gone. I feel paralyzed. Kyle validates my empathic feelings by telling me he remembers a sudden bad headache and then there was no feeling after that. He said he wasn’t “there” when the weight of the vehicle crushed his spine.

Corey begins to ask more questions about the accident but Kyle has had enough. He gets a bit testy and says, “No more! I’m done answering questions about my death. Move ON!” This elicits a smile from his older brother who responds, “Typical Kyle.”

Corey was a flight paramedic but left that job for something emotionally safer after Kyle’s death. He tells me he did it because he wanted to be closer to his parents. Kyle snarls and I relay, “You fucking pussy.” And then to me he vehemently says, “Don’t let him by with his lying bullshit.”

The reality is Corey developed PTSD after Kyle’s accident and he started to doubt his own ability to help others. He also admits he feels dead inside. Kyle, in no uncertain terms, is NOT happy about Corey’s decision to hide and to stop living.

Corey asks Kyle, “What is it I’m supposed to do?!” and Kyle answers, “Follow your passion, what’s in your heart and head, man?” And then I’m shown an image of a premature, tiny baby. I ask Corey about this and he makes a grimacing face and chokingly says he’s afraid of babies.

I continue to see images of him holding wailing, distressed babies and them calming instantly because of his energy. I hear he is maternal and has an innate gift of knowing what needs to be done. He says he has no interest in working with babies. I tell him I may have uncovered a seed for him but it’s up to him to see if it will grow.

Kyle tells me a name, “Shep.” It’s the same name I’ve heard for all three of his family members. I thought it was a dog but Corey tells me there’s a doctor – a PEDIATRIC doctor – he used to work with by that name. Hummmm…

Kyle moves on and teasingly confides in me that he hasn’t forgiven his brother for pushing him off the roof. He admits to totally pranking his older brother by having books tip over, the garage door open and repeatedly knocking on walls.  Corey says with a smile, “I KNEW it!” and then good naturedly admits yelling at Kyle to “knock it the fuck off.”

This is brother stuff. Teasing, bugging, irritating and pushing buttons but the comradery and love between these two hasn’t dissipated one ounce because one of them has changed appearances. Kyle compassionately says, “Tell my brother I love him, I respect him and I’m proud of him. Tell him he was the best brother I could have hoped for. Tell him to keep going and to get in the game. Tell him to start living.”

Kyle tells me that there is no anger where he is and so for us to keep housing anger is just bullshit.  I’ve been told this by angels, but hearing Kyle say it, in the manner in which he SAID it, makes me smile. Corey admits he is still working through some anger. Kyle then says, “Forgive” and smiles while he jokingly says his name should be, “Friggin’ Kyle Forgiveness.” He then dramatically raises his arms out to his sides and up over his head while theatrically breaking into the song, “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina.”  Corey looks incredulous, cracks a smile and says he JUST watched that movie. Of course you did, Corey.  Uh huh.

Kyle, now switching gears and becoming very earnest says, “Tell him I love him. Again. Tell him again. It’s important he hears it.”

As I am finishing his brother’s session, Kyle reveals to me why he had to leave this earth. He softly and quietly whispers there was a baby who needed him. He says he always wanted children. My eyes widen and I sense that this baby was worthy of giving his own life for. What I felt was the unfailing and unquestionable love of a parent who unselfishly and unhesitatingly gives their own life for their child’s. Kyle didn’t even question it when he was Called; he just folded his cards and left.

Kyle is clearly just as alive in death as he was in life. He is funny, quick tempered and a prankster. He calls me a “cool chick” and tells me he wants to hang out with me even when his family isn’t around. His energy is big and he easily fills my head, overriding anything or anyone that wants to appear or talk. As Corey said, the party begins when Kyle arrives. Yes, as in life, as in death. Kyle is, again, proof positive that life doesn’t end just because we die.


About 2 weeks after I published this blog, Kyle started telling me to tell Corey, “You’re picking up what I’m LAYING DOWN.”  I poo-poo’d Kyle as I don’t like to do my Work outside of session.  This morning Kyle had enough of me saying no so I text Corey.  Here was Corey’s response:

“Yesterday I had an ambulance call for a baby having a seizure. When I got there, the baby was not breathing and unresponsive. I was able to get the baby back and awake.

When we got to the ER, he was snuggled up in my arms. He didn’t like the nurses and just screamed and screamed when I gave him to them. I then picked him up off the ER bed and he immediately stopped crying and laid in my arms….

Before bed last night I was thinking of that call and it came to me what you said about me calming a crying baby. I called my mom and said, ‘Holy shit! It happened!’ Just unbelievable.”

So now it makes perrrrfect sense why Kyle was being such a Kyle and wanting me to tell his brother exactly that.

 

Kyle has appeared many times in both his mother and his brother’s sessions. He most recently became very agitated towards his mom for “not moving on” and made no bones about it. He is often in my personal life and I welcome his appearances. If you’d like to read about how he helped me with a personal issue, read “Sober.

Between

It’s a place that’s not here and it’s not there. It’s a place of nothing and of everything. It’s a place people go when they are not dead but they are not alive. It’s a place I’ve been to only a few times.

This is something that is new to me as I’ve never been particularity comfortable with death. I feared it as a child. I always thought death was going to take my mom and there would be no one to care for me. I was so afraid of it, in fact, that I would often sneak into my mom and dad’s bedroom just to listen to her breathe. I sometimes slept on the floor next to her just to make sure I could keep death away. I won many battles but lost the war in 1999.

When my dad died, I had aged and matured not only physically but spiritually as well. My dad’s death was met with wonder instead of fear. I saw the angel who came for him. I saw my dad standing at the end of his hospital bed, even though he had just taken his last physical breath. My dad appeared before me months later to let me know he had “made it.”

So with my evolution into no longer fearing what I didn’t know, new gifts began to emerge. When I was still in my infancy stage (and I’m not sure I’m out of it), a friend of mine came to me. “Friend” doesn’t quite encapsulate what Eric is to me. He is the most upbeat, positive, quirky enigma I know. He’s difficult to define. He is scientific but has deep roots in spirituality. He was my first Reiki student to become a Reiki Master. His brain is wired to create and to seek out ways to make and do things better. By day he is a computer software geek. By night a cross between Doc. Emmett Brown and Einstein.  To say Eric carries a special place in my heart, in a lot of our hearts, is an understatement.

Eric’s body was rejecting his second liver. His body ate through his own years ago and he received a successful transplant. All was going well until his body started to cannibalize this new liver. Eric’s demeanor, even when his eyes and face were yellow with jaundice and his belly was severely distended, was upbeat and positive. He insisted on working right up to the point where he could no longer do so. Sometimes when I saw him, it made me realize my problems were just that; problems. This man was once again fighting for his life and happily doing so.

Prior to his second surgery, Erik and his wife asked something of me that made me somewhat uncomfortable. They asked that I give spiritual feedback of what I was seeing and hearing from Eric when he was no longer able to speak for himself. I said I would, I signed a legal document, but I was sure to state not to look to me if they were looking to pull the plug. I didn’t want that on my shoulders.

Eric’s condition deteriorated. He was admitted to the hospital while awaiting a new liver. He soon lost consciousness. His wife would email me and ask me very physical questions and I would let her know my gift didn’t work that way. I could tell her Eric was comfortable, not in any pain and that he loved her very much.

Hours passed and Eric slipped deeper into unconsciousness. So much so that when a new liver became available, the doctors thought of giving it to another individual as Eric’s vital signs were far from where they needed to be. His wife, not a believer in the spiritual realm but a supporter of her husband’s belief, emailed me. Again, she asked me physical questions and again I told her my gift didn’t work like that.  I then set out to tell her what I did see and this I will share with you now.

Eric was far away. Not here, not there. He was in a place much like outer space (I hadn’t seen the movie “Gravity” yet, but now that I have, these visions are very much like being in outer space) but different. More vast, if that’s possible. “Eric!” I internally cried, “Eric! You’ve got to come back. I know you are an explorer and probably loving all the places you’re traveling to, but you’ve got to come back. They’ve found a liver for you and you NEED to get back here.”

His wife emailed me the next day and said a new series of tests showed improvements. But that didn’t last long. His vitals and other test results started plummeting. Eric didn’t want to be here; he had gotten a taste of what was out there and he, ever the explorer/scientist/student, wanted more. I’d be damned if I was going to allow that to happen.

Not really knowing what I should/could do, I went in after him, spiritually speaking, with guns blazing. “ERIC!” I yelled inside my head, “ERIC! WHERE ARE YOU?! ERIC! YOU HAVE TO COME BACK!”  No response. No response inside my head or medically. I repeated, “ERIC! I’m not kidding around! There is a liver for you and you’ve GOT to get back to your body or they’ll give it to someone else. ERIC! DO YOU HEAR ME! You’ve GOT to get back here and give the doctors something than can go on. Don’t you DARE leave your wife. The last thing you said to her was that you loved her. GET BACK HERE, DAMNIT!  ERIC! Where ARE you?!”

Then I changed tactics a bit and said, “Eric. I know you want to explore. I know you are enjoying all of this, but you need to come back. Before you left, you were clear you wanted to come back. I need you to hear me. We need you to return, RIGHT NOW, Eric. The doctors will give your liver to someone else and you will not return. You will not kiss your wife or pet your dog again. ERIC!! COME. BACK. NOW!!!!! EEEEERRRRRICCCCCCCCCC!!!”

I’m not saying what I did worked, but it was shortly after that Eric’s tests showed promise and he received his new liver. Eric tells me he has memories of where he went and that I “got through” to him.

What I didn’t see for Eric, I did for Michelle and Cindy. Both of these ladies had left their physical body. One was end stage brain cancer and the other was in a medically induced coma.  I saw both of them floating in a place that looked like outer space. They both were attached to Earth with an umbilical cord of sorts which looked like a very thin strand of hair.  This told me things were not good, not good at all.

Michelle spoke to me and said she wanted her husband to kiss her on her lips once more. She wanted her three boys to tightly hold her hands and feet. She told her mother she loved her and had the utmost respect for her. She said she had no regrets.

I argued with Michelle about telling her husband this. Her husband does not know me and isn’t familiar with my Work. I told Michelle my kind was burned at the stake for this kind of stuff in the past. She was insistent and so I trusted and did as she asked.  I sent a text to her husband but I didn’t hear back from him. I wasn’t really expecting to. Part of me is glad he didn’t respond because I couldn’t have handled anything but kindness. Michelle passed away shortly after I relayed her messages.

Cindy is a friend of mine from way back who has never experienced my Work. I received a phone call from one of my besties that Cindy had gone into cardiac arrest and had been in a car accident. She was in a medically induced coma and it didn’t look good. Once my adrenaline evened out and I was able to quit crying, I spiritually looked for her.

I saw her way out in space but connected to Earth by a hair-thin cord. Her back was arched and there was no brain activity. She was just floating. I began to cry once again. I said, “Cindy. Cindy? Can you hear me?” I received no reply.

I laid down for a nap but couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about Cindy. Suddenly, her voice filled my head. She told me she didn’t want to go (die) this way as she hadn’t said goodbye to anyone. In an instant, and in true Cindy form, her energy changed to determination but it was tinged with fear. She said, “Where am I?! I’m frightened.”

I loved that I could hear her. I told her what had happened and she said, “I have to get back for my grand kids.”  And get back she did. Within seconds, her energetic body became animated; she snapped into a forward facing position and grabbed the cord connecting her to Earth.  Immediately upon doing this, the cord became thicker. It looked like twisted metal cabling which was as thick as my arm.

Cindy, with teeth gritted, began pulling herself back to Earth. Her astral travels were also having effects on her physical body. Her pupils became reactive to light; her brain scan showed promise.

But this rapid return was tiring for her. I watched as the cord grew thicker still and as Cindy paused to take a nap. When she awoke, it was with a new vigor; she was eager to get back to her body. Hand over hand, eyes focused directly on Earth (she never once looked back) and with grunts of exertion, she kept methodically going.

Her physical body was showing signs of this progress, too. She was coming out of her coma before the medical world was ready to have her do so. According to them, she had another full day before they would attempt to bring her out of the deep sleep. Cindy had other ideas. She left the hospital, on her own accord, just two days later.

I hadn’t consciously been thinking about writing this blog until a few days ago. Last night my Guys were insistent that I get ‘r done and in that, I inexplicably trust. For the person or persons who needed this (ahem!), I hope it brings you comfort.

Channeled Message 9.24.15

change

“The time is upon us for great change. Some of you have felt it for months; others are just beginning to feel it. Regardless, it is a time for change.

We have been patient. We have been kind. We have wondered if you were going to make the leap, to go to the next level. Some of you will find this transition as easy as waking up in the morning. Others will not be so lucky.

Look at your neighbor, your cubicle mate, the person who serves your favorite beverage. Look at the street cleaners, the laborers, the President.  Look at the infants, the infirm and the outraged. Look at all of them. Look. At. Them.  They, too, will be going through this marvelous and magnificent Change. You are not alone in this and neither are they.

Some of you will breeze through this and give nary a thought as to what is going on. Others will fair far worse. It is to those that we wish to speak today.

Dear Ones, do not feel unenlightened for we tell you that you have all the answers locked in a safe place deep inside of you. If you are feeling restless, what is it that you need to let go of? What is it that you need to change? If you are feeling overly hostile, what is it that you covet? What is it that you think you don’t already have? Are you seeking inner peace (We think that is such an over rated term), are you seeking divine assistance? Well, then, you must be willing to change.

The World as you know it will cease to exist shortly after dark midnight. A great wind will blow away the stink and the stench and only that which is pure of heart will be left unblemished. You will feel the energy change; the air will feel lighter, more pure somehow, less dense. You will feel less encumbered, like it is easier for you to breathe. We promise ALL of you this.  But for those who are restless, agitated, tired, bored, resentful, we promise you MORE.

To those we promise the release of those hateful and hurtful energies if you will but just take the first step. You may have already done so but it has not materialized on the human plane yet. Just let go. It is as easy as that. Let go.

If you are holding tight to an outdated value or moral code, examine it. How does it fit in with this “new” world?  If you are stubbornly holding your ground, check to see if there is any ground left to hold. If you are angry or aggressive, understand that you are not alone but that these feelings cannot be tolerated where you are (eventually) going. They simply do not exist in this World (Angelic realm).

What is making you angry? Is it being held back? Then let go. Is it being malnourished (spiritually)? Then open up your heart for a feast. Is it being tired? Then know the rest and replenishment you seek is yours for the taking. But you HAVE TO LET GO.

clenched-fistSome of you grip so tightly to antiquated versions of yourself that we cannot understand why you do not see the beauty you are to become. You hold tightly to what you believe, but what if what you believe has all changed? We see we have startled some of you.  Yes, it is true. What you believe, your tenets, ethics, code, morality, may have all changed. Have you bothered to check in with yourself to see what truly matters? Have you bothered to take a ‘pulse check’? If you will, you may see that doing things by rote is making you uncomfortable.

Some of you are being called to do Higher things. This may make you moderately uncomfortable at first, but once you embrace the idea, things will feel as natural as the skin you inhabit.

This One (uhhh…me…oh man…what now…) has made many great changes in her life although they have been subliminal. She has taken a stand, she has used her voice and she has seen her value increase. She is not ego driven so do not mistake what she is doing for that, she is human driven. She longs to serve, to help, to aid. She longs to make a difference in just one life. She is not so different from most of you, correct? So follow her lead, her example. Her light shines brighter than ever now. She has overcome some outdated obstacles and feels freer.  What used to work for her no longer does and we are not just talking about all things spiritual. No, this has also been very physical for her.  It may be for you as well.

We are here. We love you all. Yes, each and every one of you makes a difference, DAILY, in someone’s lives. Embrace this change for if you do not, it may wreck you. We do not wish to appear dire, but we do have your spiritual well-being in the forefront of our mind.

What is not working for you? CHANGE IT!  For if you think we are full of folly, then you will see how miserable the next six months will be.  Walk with us as with us, the wind is blowing in the right direction.

We honor all of you. This change is not easy but it must be done. Do not put off until tomorrow what you can do today. What does that mean? Each of you, individually, knows what your heart longs for. Take steps to obtain it.  We wish for you nothing else.  We love your souls.”

Angel

I was making our bed this morning when I glanced up and saw the most beautiful angel standing in the corner of our bedroom. He was very tall (7 or 8 feet), very handsome (understatement) and dressed in all black. He had dark, shoulder-length wavy hair and mesmerizing sapphire blue eyes. While I’m not in the habit of seeing angels in our bedroom, I really didn’t think much about it. Lately, strange shit has been happening both inside and outside of my work environment.

I did startle but rallied quickly and greeted him with a casual, “Oh, don’t-mind-me. I’m-just-making-our-bed” voice, “Hey dude! What’s up?”  He smiled a smile that had the ability to make me forget how to breathe but he didn’t answer.  I thought again of how breathtakingly, ethereally beautiful he was. I shrugged my shoulders, finished making the bed and left for work.

When I returned home, I changed clothes and as is my practice, I began walking to get my dolly from daycare. The same angel easily and quietly fell in step beside me before I got half way down the block.

I thought, “This is odd. What the hell is this angel …oh ohhh.” I instantly flashed back to when my dad was dying and the angel that came for him. That angel, equally as astonishingly beautiful was also dressed in black but he had jet black eyes (don’t freak out; Hollywood has demonized black eyes but they’re not to be feared!).

I snapped a terse, “Dude. What are you doing? Why are you here?!” And he calmly said, “I am here to protect you.”  I said, “Are you sure? The last time I saw your kind you took my dad Home.” He repeated, “I am here to protect you.”

My mind went to my husband. He, whom I love beyond what a mere word can convey, has been having some unexplained health concerns recently. He is a Gulf War veteran and the chemical warfare used by the other side was/is insidious. Many of those chemicals were designed to activate slowly in order to disable and debilitate our troops over the course of decades.

I had just told him, less than a week ago, that my spidey sense was tingling as there had been too many signs recently.  You see, I have been seeing threes everywhere again, in fact, just the other night I awoke at exactly 3:33. There are no coincidences and I’ve been trying to figure out what all these threes mean. Lawdy, I wish this spiritual stuff came with a manual.

You can understand my frame of mind when I said to the angel, “You’re not here for my husband, are you? I’ve been seeing threes everywhere for the last three months. Are you here for him?!”  Again he calmly said, “I am here to protect you.”

So, that was what…three (THREE again?!! Are you SHITTING ME?! Come ON!) times he stated he was here to protect me. And yet I still didn’t believe him. In fact, I was so freaked out, I called my husband while this angel walked beside me and told him about this whole exchange. I asked him to be extra careful. He said it sounded like I needed to be extra careful. Well, what the hell? Me? What?

During the walk, the angel’s body language was casual but his eyes were vigilant. He stayed outside while I retrieved my daughter and as we started walking again, I asked Ceta if she could see the angel next to me. She twisted her head both ways and said no. She asked how I could see the angel and I told her I didn’t know how I could. I described him to her as if that would somehow magically allow her to see him. She shook her head and said she didn’t see anything.

I then heard the angel say, “I love her.” I told Ceta that and before she could say anything, I heard him say, “I respect her. I admire her.” As I finished telling Ceta this she said, “How can you hear that, mommy? I didn’t hear anything.”  I told her I sometimes hear with my head, not with my ears.  She asked how I could do that and I told her I didn’t really know.

As we continued our walk home, the energy (mood) changed. The angel said again, “I am here to protect you.” He must have been answering a question I didn’t even know I’d asked but his response was REALLY starting to freak me out. I started having a very physical reaction, too. I could feel my breath and heart rate quicken as if I was preparing for a flight, fight or freeze scenario.

As my body was physically reacting to some unseen stimuli, I intuitively heard, “Cross the street.”  I didn’t, of course, as I didn’t see what the big dealio was and besides, I was waiting to cross at the crosswalk (safety girl!). A few steps later I heard, “Cross the street.” This time it was a little more forceful but I still didn’t cross the street. I was having an internal conversation with myself that went something like this: “I’ll cross the street when I am damn good and ready, like when I get to a walking path or a driveway.” I’m a teensy bit stubborn that way and besides, I STILL didn’t see any danger. But after my internal convo faded and I took a few more strides, I became very agitated and felt like I had just moved into a high alert status.

This time the telepathic voice commanded I cross the street. Boy howdy, you didn’t have to ask me twice (this time). Nope! I didn’t wait for my own human eyes to pick up the danger or for the upcoming crosswalk. I went all Jackie Chan and cut right through someone’s yard and then through someone else’s yard. By Jove, I got to the other side of the street and I did it by picking ‘em up and putting ‘em down, like right NOW.

During my “going rogue” episode, Ceta said, “Mommy. Mommy! What are you doing, mommy?!” I said, “I wish I knew, honey, but I have to cross the street NOW.”  This is so unlike me that Ceta said, “You shouldn’t do that mommy” which is her response when she senses an injustice. Lord help the child who’s not wearing a bike helmet while riding a bike if Ceta’s around. She is SO the Lawbreaker Police.

My heart rate settled as did my breath. I couldn’t visibly detect any harm coming from the other side of the street but then again, our physical vision IS very limited. On the new side of the street, I did stop for a lady backing out of her driveway as she didn’t see us. I thought that was kind of weird as if I had stayed on the other side of the street, this situation wouldn’t have happened. But maybe something else, something far worse, might have.

My black clad, black winged companion chaperoned Ceta and I until we returned home. Safely. Has the danger passed? I don’t know. Tonight, though, I’m arming our security system. I may be um, “challenging” (ahem!) but I’m not stupid. And the angel? I just spotted him folding his huge frame into the rocking chair that sits next to my baby girl’s bed. His demeanor says, “I got this, momma. Rest easy. I’ll be here all night keeping watch.”

And that gives me a sense of protection that no armed security system ever will.

Misty

She was the first person I saw as I rushed through my office building doors. She captivated my attention instantly. My first thought of her was, “gypsy” and I heard, “whimsical.” My second thought was that she was incredibly vulnerable. I wanted to go to her instantly and hug her but instead I stayed connected to her by staring into her eyes.

She was dressed in all black. Her beautiful, dark, lustrous hair was piled loosely in a disheveled bun on the top of her head.  I found that this style added to her mystique. She smiled a broad, welcoming smile that was inviting.

Misty was there because it was right; it was finally time. She had looked into taking my Reiki I class last fall and it just hadn’t worked out. She tried to talk herself out of this class the week prior but she worked through it and now was one of my six students.

Misty has a kindness about her; an intrigue. She hides her vulnerability behind a smile that draws you in but when you look at her eyes you see the sadness reflected there if you know where to look. She is gentle, engaging, hospitable and kind. She is a mother to three young boys. She is a wife.

But look closely and you’ll see she has become much older mentally than her physical age belies. Misty is exhausted. She is terrified. She is angry. She is grieving. She is in insurmountable pain. She is in a constant state of high anxiety.

Misty hides this part of herself like you would hide a deep, sacred secret. She’s not one to let others know her pain as she doesn’t want to burden them nor does she want to be a burden.  Unfortunately for her (or maybe fortunately?) she is now in a room full of Empaths and Intuitives. And if you’ll pardon the expression, I’d like to give a nod to the recently completed Shark Week, she was like a drop of blood in a room full of highly astute (nurse) sharks.

I began class and as is my practice, I asked what brings everyone to me. When it is her turn to talk, she instantly tears up and then apologizes for it. I pooh pooh the tears and tell her they are welcome here. Always. Others are on the brink of tears, too. One sweet lady, who hasn’t yet discovered she is Intuitive or Empathic, makes fun of her own tears in an effort to cope.

Misty weaves a short story of what finally brought her to me and at the end she allows us a glimpse of her inner pain. She tells us about her husband who is her everything. This is the man she has chosen to have children with, the one she doesn’t want to live without and the one who was recently diagnosed with stage 4 cancer.

When we reach the part of class where we scan through the energy (auric field) of the person laying on the Reiki table, I brace myself. It was Misty’s turn to be scanned and to receive Reiki.

I mentally took a deep breath and held it. I physically slammed my eyes shut thinking I could keep out what I was about to intuitively see. Pshaw. As if. I outwardly winced and I remember thinking, “You’re teaching a class here. You can’t fall to pieces. Just get through it. Go.” I knew scanning her energetic/auric body was going to be filled with emotional land mines, tortured thoughts and abysmal pain but I wasn’t even close to being prepared.

I felt it all. I felt the anger, the panic, the anxiety, the constant worry, the injustice, the sleep deprivation, the bargaining and the overwhelming anguish. I felt it all. From her head to her toes in just four seconds. I felt all of that.

I tried not to let on what I had just sensed, felt and knew out of respect for her and my students. I prayed nobody heard me raggedly inhale and exhale an audible breath. But we were in a room full of intuitive ladies who just wanted to help others heal so I’m not sure how successful I was. I do know I couldn’t make eye contact with any of my students as I was afraid they’d see what I had just learned.

Jodi was next to scan Misty’s auric field. I silently begged her not to do it but she is ballsy and not one to back down from anything energetic. She began scanning and made it to Misty’s heart/chest area when her direct, light blue gaze filled with tears. She stopped, blinked her eyes and shook out her hands and arms. Like someone stunned, she took a deep breath and tried again; same response.

I watched, unblinkingly, as she tried a third time. Her hands/arms hovered and shook over Misty’s heart area and my own heart went out to her. Jodi’s surprised eyes once again filled with tears and this time, she stepped away from Misty. She shook her hands and arms as if she had just received an electric shock. She looked directly at me and apologetically and softly said she couldn’t do it; she couldn’t get through (Misty’s auric body).  I nodded with understanding.

My five newly attuned Reiki I students and I took up our places around the prone Misty. I, as always, encouraged my student to go to a spot where their intuition led them. I noticed all but one of them were at her upper body. Sounds about right.

I had placed my hands on her left leg and I found myself gently and softly rocking her lower leg. Across from me was another student. She is a woman whose energy was so maternal and calming that I found myself petting her arm earlier in class. She was lightly stroking Misty’s right leg.

And then it happened.

Sweet Misty, the woman who was trying to hold it all together so her children weren’t frightened, so that her husband wouldn’t be scared and so that she could function, let out a keening, mewling, guttural noise that came from deep within her. It was filled with a pain so deep that I can’t even begin to dignify or quantify it. It was filled with her fear; fear of being on her own, fear of losing her beloved husband, fear for her children and fear of being financially bereft.

One amazing young-but-old student leaned over Misty and did what I couldn’t do; she softly whispered, “Let it out” and Misty did. The keening turned into deep, gut-wrenching sobs and I believe each one of us felt her silent, private and deeply personal pain.

I had been holding back tears all day (I know, I know!! I was just afraid of looking – gasp – unprofessional! Oh the horror!) and I couldn’t do it anymore. Her cries were so feral, sooooooo visceral that I had a hard time not falling to my knees.  I closed my eyes to give her some privacy and tears rolled down my cheeks. We were all experiencing something profoundly miserable and yet beautiful; one of us was releasing deep pain and starting the healing process.

Misty’s release didn’t last long. I could feel when her healing began. I could feel when she released what she needed to and embraced what she wanted to. I could feel her allowing us to give back to her and I could feel her accepting our help.

Misty gave up five hours to be with us in order to learn Reiki. Those precious five hours could have been spent with her husband. She split up her three children with different caretakers in order to be sure they were taken care of. She raced home during our lunch break just to be sure her husband had eaten. She did all of this because she felt so strongly about attending this class.

There are no coincidences. You get that, right? And the Guys constantly tell us, via their channeled messages, that we are ALL one. These amazing women had all come together not only to learn the ancient healing art of Usui Reiki, but to help one of their own; their sister. It humbles me to be so very aware of this.

I was deeply touched by Misty’s grace, her love for her husband/family, her plight and the raw emotion I felt on so many levels. I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t personally touched me. In fact, I went home and hugged my own beloved, healthy, warm and strong husband a little bit longer. And then I hugged him again, a little bit tighter. And then I decided it wasn’t such a big deal if he occasionally leaves a light on or wears his shoes inside.

I bet Misty would give anything to have her husband do just that for the next 50 years.

.

(If it feels right, please join me in sending prayers/energy to Misty and her family. I’d ask that you intend for the energy/prayers to help with all that is for their highest good instead of directing them to heal.)

Protector

I recently had the privilege of meeting a young lady whose sole/soul purpose is to protect. To be clear, she is a Protector. I capitalize that word as that is her title; it is who she is and what she does.

She doesn’t come from Earth. Outwardly, she looks and acts like a normal human. She is pretty but doesn’t see it. She thinks she needs to lose weight. She doesn’t like being noticed and dresses in clothes that hide her. It’s easy for her to forget she is a woman.

She is on constant alert. She doesn’t sleep well. She thinks about all the things that could go wrong. She plans. She keeps her mind active by creating scenarios of actions to be taken in the event something does go wrong. She is a wife. She is a mother.

During her session, I was afforded a nano second of a past life glimpse. She, then a man, was a Pharaoh’s guard and while he sat on the throne, her position was directly to his right. She was a highly trained adversary and her existence was dedicated to protecting and serving her king. Nothing else mattered.

She carries all of those honed instincts within her DNA today. She comes from a place where trusting in others will get you killed, or worse, cause the death of the one you swore to protect. She does not fully trust in this lifetime; not even her husband. The only one she completely trusts is herself.

She has never felt like she has fit in and because of her trust issues, she hides a lot of memories/emotions/feelings from others, including her mate.  Normally, when I see/hear this, the Guys are encouraging my clients to open their hearts. After all, you can’t receive complete love (from others, yourself and God) if you do not give it. But for her, they were silent.

She was told to eat “exotic and spicy” food as she is bored by “everyday food” and it doesn’t nourish her.  Their meaning wasn’t clear. It could physically mean she needs to branch out beyond (yawn) hamburgers and hot dogs OR it could spiritually mean she needs to find new and intriguing energetic foods to sustain her.

The Guys talk about her two children and the energy surrounding this topic instantly changes to all business. It sharpens and becomes tense as if it is on high alert. There is something almost animalistic about it. This Protector momma will leave no stone unturned to ensure the safety of her children. Now, don’t confuse what I’ve written by thinking she is a “momma badger” or a “helicopter mom” as she is neither. She is unconcerned about skinned knees, petty fights or bruised egos; she is concerned with their protection; their primal existence. They are her “charges.”

She can’t turn this off; this is who she IS. She came back to this world, this Earth, for a reason, a purpose. She is a Protector and has had to make many sacrifices due to this. She feels alone and lonely as she hasn’t found anyone else of her kind. What must it be like to not fully trust anyone but yourself or another Protector?

She feels different from other moms too, like an outsider. She is, as it was explained to me, like an advanced Being who has returned to life in the cave man era. She is highly telepathic and used to communicating in that mode but now she must use an archaic and slow form of communication called talking. To her, this way of communicating is outdated and clumsy.

She isn’t very social. She really doesn’t like people and she prefers to keep to herself. The reason for this is a bigger crowd means more threats. More threats mean more vigilance. More vigilance means more chances of something going wrong. More chances of something going wrong means more Plan B options.

Because her body is in a constant state of high-alert stress, her cortisol levels are chronically elevated and she suffers from cold after cold after cold.  Starting a new form of exercise induces fear because there are so many variables.

She is so very intriguing to me as I’ve not experienced anything like her.  Yes, I have given Reiki to amazing Aliens who just want to help mankind, but not Protectors. I have not had this fierce, gung ho warrior, “I’m-willing-to-die-for-my-charges” energy before.

Transformers 1She is Hollywood’s version of a Transformer. In fact, the name that was whispered to me was, “Magnatron.”   She is a woman, a human woman, but she can transform into a powerful, bad-assed weapon if needed.

Protectors; I see you. I can’t begin to understand the sacrifices you unquestioningly make but I can understand your drive to do so. It’s what you know. It’s who you are. I am in awe of your raw devotion and unwavering watchfulness.  Thank you.  Thank you for coming back to a place that is light years behind you. Thank you for walking among us and keeping your “charges” inexplicably safe.

And to my new client: Thank you for showing me, wowing me really, with another facet of what often remains unseen.

Channeled Message 3.4.15

“So many of you have recently asked, “What the hell is wrong with everyone?” and we will take a moment to answer.  They are caught up in something that is not of their doing. They are in a vortex, if you will. A whirl wind. They feel tossed about and battered. Up is down and down is up. Black is white and white is black. Nothing is working for them anymore and yet, bless their hearts, they keep trying to make the old work.

Here is the crux of what we wish to discuss; the OLD does not exist anymore; it has vanished. Poof! Gone like the wind that blows in your region. It. Does. Not. Exist. Any. More.  So can you imagine the frustration, angst and anxiety of those who are still trying (and trying and trying) to utilize the old way of doing things?  The buttons are not there, the levers have disappeared and yet they still blindly grope and grapple for them.

We have urged several of you to let go of the old ways and yet you fiercely maintained your attachment to them. We ask; how is that working for you?  Good?  No, we think not. You feel lost, like you woke up in an entirely new world and you do not have your bearings yet.  You feel anxiety and restlessness. You feel desolation and hopelessness. You feel fear. You feel anger (Melissa’s Note: Oh MAN, do we feel anger!).

We hear you. More importantly, we see you. We see each and every one of you down on Earth trying to Become. We see your struggles and your pitfalls and your breaks. We hear you saying, “What the HELL is going ON!?!” and with this One’s help, we will tell you.

The Earth has shifted on its axis once again. We don’t mean literally, we mean figuratively. There is new energy coming in once again.  As is the case for several millennia, when there is new, the old does not want to leave.  And you humans make this so easy for the Old. You cling to old values, ideas, thoughts, feelings, emotions, and ways.

You cling to old habits, even though you have long outgrown them.  The childish tantrums, the unbridled rage, the “poor me” mentality, those are all of the Old. These need to go on their way. They need to be let loose; freed.  They do not and will not serve you any longer.

What will? Being open. Staying open.  New ideas, new values, new ethics, new tenants, and a new you. That will serve you best.

This One is asking us for black and white concepts. We will do so now. If you look before you leap, maybe it is time to leap before you look.  If you use harsh words in anger, maybe it is time to soften your tongue. If you are filled will fear, maybe it is time to find courage.

How do you know if we are talking to you? Simple. Have you been moody? Angry? Resentful? Chaotic? Have you experienced despair, loneliness and anxiety? Have you hurt those you love? Have you cast stones upon yourself? If so, then perhaps we ARE talking to you.  We smile at this because there is not one of you reading this, including our faithful servant (Melissa), that won’t benefit. Not one of you. Pretty enormous, right? That is how large the scope of this shift is.

We offer you this; be kind when you want to rage. Be thankful when you want to cast spite. Be humble. Be loyal. Be gentle.  Be loving. It sounds simple, but for several of you, this is not working.

We will leave you now knowing you are infinitely safe and protected. Be aware of your choices and know that YOU are in the driver’s seat.  We are merely passengers and as such, we are powerless to control the wheel, the speed or the direction you travel. Do not blame us if you are miserable; we have given you ample opportunity to prevail. You must do the work; we cannot.”   (Melissa’s Note: Gah gong.)