When I was…

When I was…

166200974When I was just a baby, I used to climb up on my dad’s lap while he read Stephen King, or whatever he was reading, and point to the words in the books. “What’s that daddy?” And he would happily tell me every word.

By the time I was 3, I was reading on my own.

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When I was 6, I talked to a man in my bedroom who told me I was destined for greatness. That I would be a leader. That I was going to save the world. There was no one physically in my room and I don’t know who he was, but I believed every word He said. It’s a shame that I haven’t been able to meet that calling, yet.

stairsWhen I was 8, an uncle I’d never met was dying from the effects of Agent Orange. The night my parents got an urgent call to the ICU, I stayed with my grandmother. Snuggled up in bed next to her, I awoke in the middle of the night to a man in a dark suit, standing at the foot board. He smiled and said he’d come to say goodbye to my grandmother. Two days later, I saw that man – my uncle – in person for the first time, in the same suit, laying in the casket. My grandmother always said she’d been visited by every relative before they passed to the next Place, but mostly my family just thought she was crazy. I didn’t.

When I was 10, we visited relatives and their drunk nephew came home in the middle of the night and started touching me in my sleep. I’ll never forget his words when I begged to go to my parents guest room, “Don’t never tell nobody what I done.” Even at that age, I was as mortified by his poor grammar as what had happened to me. After that, I began to write. A lot. It was my outlet.

When I was 13, I’d begun to meditate, but I didn’t know it had a name.

When I was 15, I met the boy I would fall in love with 3 years later.

When I was 18, I went off to college. I loved the freedom and set out on a path to discover who I was and develop my own perspective and attitude in life.

When I was 20, I lost the boy I was meant to be with – my soul mate. He needed space, even though our universities where over 400 miles away. I was angry and hurt.

When I was 21, I woke up out of a dead sleep after going to a party, to some guy I didn’t know who was forcibly straddled on top of me. He had apparently offered to my friends to walk me home. And yes, that 10 year-old little girl came right back to haunt my mind for a couple of years.

Through my 20’s, I used the benefits of my Music Therapy training to open spiritual doorways, do past life regression, talk to guides, and find my way in the world. My inner nudge, although ignored at times, has never been wrong.

When I was 23, I met who I thought was my second love. I ignored tons of little warning signs in my gut, like how we fought over the Beatles song, Love is All You Need. He was adamant those lyrics were absolute and true. I argued that even more than love, you need to trust and respect each other. When I was 24, I grieved for the boy who’d got away in college – while the hairstylist did my hair on my wedding day.

candleWhen I was 25, I began taking  multiple classes on Psychic Development. I had a knack for connecting with souls who have crossed over. I knew things that people would never know, about people I had never met. I also found using Tarot helpful in bringing insight for others. I had children and began to write out of sheer joy.

Through my late twenties, I attended women’s circles, drum circles and other meditation groups. They were exactly what I needed.

When I was 29, I went through a painful divorce. I believed people when they said I would never make it on my own with two kids in the city, so I moved back to my hometown. Rather than make my children suffer ridicule in a small town about their weird mom, I put away (and threw away!) my healing and astrology books, my Tarot cards, my desire to learn Reiki, any medium work, and any idea I had of helping the world through those means.

When I was 32, I made another attempt at a relationship. It started off well, but deteriorated quickly, as soon as I gave up my independence and moved in with him. I began to write in earnest to fill the void, honing manuscripts that had been left untouched and developing new material. I was told, “why bother writing, when you’re never going to get it published anyway?”

enlightened archway

When I was 36,  it was apparent I would need to break free and be on my own again. Ever-independent, I’ve struggled on my own, only asking for help when I absolutely need it. Meditation saves me on my worst days. The best part is that I’ve embraced my life’s purpose with renewed enthusiasm.

At 38, I published my first book, with a lot of help from some amazing people.

Today, I share some of my life story even though it exposes me in ways I never thought I would be comfortable doing. I am happy with who I am.

Only some of these experiences define me, but all of them have shaped me.

We make mistakes. Bad things happen to good people. Good people make bad choices. Living can be tough. When we acknowledge and appreciate the high points and remember to roll through the low ones, life can always be better.

Simply Put – Believe in yourself.

Yep, easier said than done. But, think about what our stories could be five years from now, when we each say, “When I was…”

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