If you stood outside my childhood home you would have seen a single-family home in Fort Hood, Texas with a manicured lawn, complete with plastic sunflower lawn ornaments, surrounded by a white picket fence. The wood-paneled station wagon was parked in the garage, and a garden and swing set in the backyard. Inside were my biological parents married to each other and my baby brother.
On the surface, my childhood was the American Dream.
My father’s career in the Army afforded us what could be called a middle-class living. On a material level, life was good. I was surprised with a canopy bedroom set in the third grade; received new school clothes and supplies every year; and every meal – breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks – was packed with choices from my mom’s multiple $200 shopping sprees at the commissary.
The emotional, mental and spiritual parts were twisted.
Writer and activist bell hooks stated that black girls learn sexism at home before they learn racism. I cried when I read this in my Women’s Studies class at Texas Woman’s University because she was right. I felt like a second-class citizen my entire childhood but didn’t have the words to articulate it.
Spirituality and the spirit world were not discussed. Looking back, I saw spirits with my physical eyes; received messages in dreams about what was going on in waking world; I could sense when something or someone wasn’t in alignment with me; and my claircognizance (clear knowing) was on point. Whenever my brother asked for something he lost I would tell him with 100% accuracy where it was.
I was highly sensitive and my psychic abilities were strong as a child. All of that changed when I was 8-years old.
I had to pass through the garage when I wanted to move my sunshine yellow and pea green bicycle from the fenced-in backyard to the street. My mother was in the garage the day her car seemed to be parked too close to the wall. I stopped to access my options. Before I could grasp my next move I hear her yelling at me then she slapped my face hard with an open hand. From that moment on I thought my mother was crazy.
It often slipped from my lips that my mother’s authoritarian parenting style was like Hitler because she scrutinized and ‘corrected’ my behavior and creativity to her liking. Social studies was the only reason I didn’t make honor roll in middle school, so my mother ordered me to bring all of my books home every day. One day I didn’t have homework in any class and decided to not take books home. Being backed against a wall while being yelled at and beaten with a thick, leather belt across the chest, stomach and hips was terrifying and painful. I can still see that moment as if it were happening now.
Playing the drums was a passion when it came to choosing an instrument for middle band. My mom said no without any explanation. I had to choose between flute and clarinet. Whenever I asked why the reasons changed: I don’t want that noise in my house. I don’t think you can make money doing that. Sometimes there was no answer. I felt in the marrow of my bones it was because I was a girl. My brother was allowed to choose the drums.
My mother continued her controlling ways when I was in the working world. I once shared with her about an incident at work. I don’t recall what it was. The next day my supervisor told me mother called and wanted to know everything and how I was involved. I was embarrassed and stopped sharing where I worked and work experiences.
I spent maybe fifteen years waiting for my mother to die. Thoughts of her funeral and cremated often cycled through my mind. I thought having her ashes sprinkled in the Pacific Ocean would bring her peace.
I wanted peace.
My father was the passive parent. He once told my mother, in my presence during high school, to let me make decisions for myself. When he wasn’t at work, my father was doing yard work, working on cars, building something with his hands, or watching television.
My childhood experiences were mixed with material support, alienation of affection, and low self-worth. I cared for other people more than I cared for myself. It was exhausting but it was what I learned, internalized and behaved.
My spiritual abilities seemed to resurface in 2003. I was overcome by thoughts and emotions that turned out to not be mine. I discovered that I was an empath.
As it turned out, my mother and father have psychic abilities that surpass professionally trained psychics. They never talked about it. When I realized this, I understood how my mother always seemed to know about events before they happened. Rather than express it in words, she would find other things to do to be late for the event. She was supposed to be at Luby’s in Killeen, Texas the day the massacre happened. She was late. Her friend who waited for her made it out safely.
I thought my mother was a snob because she turned her nose up at people she met. But she knew if a person was worth her time the moment she laid eyes on them. And she was correct. My mother can even astral project into other people’s dreams. It freaked me out when she first did it to me, around 2011. It’s happened several times since then. She would allude to something she learned but went silent when I asked her about it.
My father is like Dumbledore. Spirit nudged me in 2015 to ask him about his abilities. He hears spirits internally and externally; sees them with his physical and third eye; feels low vibrational energy; and he communicates with his parents who are in the spirit world. He kept it a secret because he thought he was the only one who had these abilities.
Had my parents grown up understanding that their abilities were normal, or someone in their adult life to help them along, my life may have turned out differently.
Everything is energy, even psychic abilities. Strong abilities, when ignored, can manifest into unhealthy behavior or illnesses. My mother was diagnosed with Schizoid Personality Disorder. In the metaphysical world, medical diagnoses like my mom’s are common amongst those who are ‘untrained psychics.’
When psychic abilities are recognized, understood and focused, the person can use them in healthy ways. Socializing becomes manageable and pleasant. Talking about psychic abilities and the messages received validates the person’s experiences.
My psychic abilities became more manageable when I received my reiki 1 attunement in 2014. During the 21-day chakra cleanse that happens after an attunement helped me understand that my aura over my solar plexus chakra – the area of self-worth – had a tear in it. As that healed, my confidence and ideas about self-worth improved. The reiki 2 class taught me how to heal inner child trauma. It brought up memories, emotions, and thoughts that I had forgotten.
Free will allowed me to decide if I wanted to listen to the messages from Spirit. Often times I did not. Ancestors called me hard headed. I laughed it off.
I wanted to hold on to old behavior and move forward. I was like a boat exhausting the engine because the trash was stuck in the propeller.
France loomed in the background my entire life. I loved can-can dancing as a child, pretending to wave my layered skirt and screech like the ladies. As an adult, I daydreamed of decorating my apartment dining rooms like French cafés. The pull got stronger in 2004 when I wanted to either be in France or Francophone Africa. Dreams of France started in 2010. I saw myself taking pictures of different buildings in Paris.
My visit to Paris in January 2017 was grounding, happy and creative. I spent the week understanding what it meant to move to France. When I returned to the U.S. I found myself planning and taking small steps rather than big leaps. Then I realized the longer I took the longer it would be before I could live my joy completely.
Then I let go.
I healed inner child issues related to love and money, which both are about self-worth. I learned to love myself first then share whatever energy I have with others. I am a first-class citizen in this respect.
As a creative person, I gained more confidence and take more risks. My psychic abilities are strong and continue to unfold. As a medium, I communicate with animals, plants, minerals (gemstones), angels, and spirit guides.
My angels and spirit guides helped me when I had a few small panic attacks. They told me to go for walks to burn off the energy. Affirmations also helped as I donated and gave away clothes, furniture and books.
- Je habite en France.
- I am living my joy.
- I am completely free.
I returned to France on June 16 to spend the summer relaxing, enjoying France, and creating new projects to share with women and children who are empaths or highly sensitive.
I am happy.
I am free.
I am living my joy.