COVID. Ugh. The name sounds like a sexually transmitted disease causing “not so fresh” feelings in one’s crotch.
We all know what COVID is, so no need wasting time explaining the little bugger. Let us hop right into how I am managing my depression (which really isn’t depression)!
If I am not really depressed, then why I am writing about managing depression? Good question! I want to share the major differences between what many of us are feeling and clinical depression.
As soon as I noticed my daily dose of joy was rapidly going to shit back in early April, I considered what I needed to do about this. Having experienced severe depression as a part of PTSD (and one bout caused by a super speedy thyroid and multiple life transitions), I immediately called my therapist, Deb, and procured an appointment. She has been my therapist since November 2001, and I contact her as I needed. Well, back in April, I NEEDED! Continue reading “Managing COVID Depression”→
Yep, that is what will happen. You will get a tale of woe, all for you to kick yourself in the ass about. “Why didn’t I listen?” Indeed–why didn’t you? We will explore that question. But for now , onto my tale of woe.
Let us harken back to earlier this frosty winter, my friends. I USED to have an ankle length down coat which zipped up clear to underneath my nose. So toasty warm it was, so durable, and so expensive (but I got it for a steal at Macy’s-we are talking a veritable mere pittance.) I was able to withstand frigid temperatures for long periods as I took care of my petsitting dogs, and it allowed me to wear shorts to the gym in the winter. Bonus point! Continue reading “What Happens When You Ignore Your Spirit Guides: A Tale of Woe”→
Many greetings! It has been forever since I have written, June 29th, to be precise. You may wonder what happened to me? Was I abducted by aliens? Nah…..It would make a spellbinding blog for sure, but nothing that spectacular occurred. I almost would rather have taken a twirl around the galaxy with E.T. in his space sled than deal with what has slowed me way down.
It began innocently enough with a call to our apartment manager, needing to know why the electricity was flickering off and on. No way a chick can work without her electricity, at least not with a computer. As soon as manager handles my query about the state of all affairs electric, he dropped the bomb. We had to move. By August 31. It was mid June. ARGGHHH!!! Insert a few F Bombs. We have lived in those apartments since April 2016 and adored them! We were pissy campers. Continue reading “When the Going Gets Tough, Sometimes the Tough Take a Break”→
Some folks are born with all their psychic skills already booming and ready to go. Add language and mobility, BOOM!! Full blown psychic medium right there, from the get go.
Me, nah. At least I am not aware of it if I was. I reckon I should ask my Mumsy. Her memory, however, is just as shabby and flabby as mine….I will just share my version of the Annie Becomes Psychic tale as I remember it currently.
Now, I was never considered a “normal ” child, at least by my peers. Beginning in 3rd grade, I constantly was assessed to be weird and labeled as such. I believe that was primarily because of my ability to laugh at damn near anything! And I do mean, damn near anything. I am still that way, thank goodness, and now my peeps refer to me as “unique.” I am also easily delighted. I saw baby geese with their parents this morning as I careened into the gym parking lot, and I had a total fit of hand clapping , chortling, and general joyous outbursting. This happens every.time.I.see.baby.geese. So it was my laughter and delight which was “weird”, not my psychic abilities. Continue reading “Was I Born this Way? Kinda, and kinda not”→
As I pondered what to write about today, I thought back to the fears I initially had about developing my intuition.
There are many things about intuitive/psychic abilities that scare the outright shit clear outta people. The lovely Hollywood movie, The Sixth Sense, was high on my list after I white knuckled it through that flick. I eagerly departed the theatre, deciding that nope, this psychic stuff wasn’t for me–oh hell no!
If you haven’t had the joy of watching this movie, allow me to provide you with the quick and dirty on it. Boy is psychic. Boy sees dead people all over the place. Not your contented, lounging-in-a-coffin kind of dead person, but gory, gross, people who have hanged themselves with blood and entrails spewing…..ewww. Only a complete nutter would want to see that all the time, right? Continue reading “Surprise, Surprise! It Ain’t Like the Movies!!!”→
Anyone can, that’s who!!! See, these folks in the photo are toasting their innate intuitive/psychic/healing abilities because why? We ALL have them! And these folks are obviously quite thrilled with that idea–and you should be too.
Time and again, I hear clients say wistfully, “I wish I could do what you can.” News flash!!! They can. Anyone can. That is, anyone who puts forth the effort to wisely develop the energy that Mother Nature gave everyone. All of us can read energy. The simplest example is this: you meet another human, and BAM! You love them. Or conversely, you want to run in the other direction since something you can’t quite put your finger on feels very, very off to you. That, my friends, is reading energy.
The only difference among people is how quickly and easily they develop their abilities. Psychic ability runs in families, just as traits such as mathematical brilliance, are genetic. My little brother–that dude got all the math skills. Me? I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide–that’s it. I dropped out of remedial college algebra 3 times because it makes absolutely no sense to me at all. Statistics were equally as onerous. On the flip side, I simply talked to a psychic about how to read energy, sat down, and did it, on the first try. It was a pretty quick and easy trot down the psychic pathway after that. Continue reading “Who Can Become a Psychic Medium or Animal Communicator?”→
Don’t ask me why–perhaps it is genetic (we found a bevy of typed fart jokes in my grandpa’s desk drawer after he died)-but I think passing wind, tooting, poofing, cropdusting, whatever term you wish to use to describe small explosions betwixt the butt cheeks, to be riotously hilarious. Every. Single. Time.
Much to my amazement, some animals also think farts are hysterical too. I once conversed with two dogs who professed to miss their human grandfather. Come to find out, one of the main reasons they loved to be around this kindly old man was because of his boisterous wind passing. The sound delighted them, and of course, being dogs, they thought the smell to be heavenly ! They even inquired of their mom when Grandpa would return to see them so they could enjoy his ass music. LOL!!!!!
Stories like this are one of the multitude of reasons I adore being an animal communicator.
When I was a wee turd growing up in Waldron, IN (population 269, including the town cat), my parental units frequently trotted me to church. I have to scratch my silver pate, and wonder why? Dad wasn’t particularly religious, and certain aspects of Christianity chapped his ass mightily (i.e. homosexuality is a sin, for one.) Mumsy’s parents never took her to church, but for some reason, we attended. And for an even stranger reason, as a 4 or 5 year old child, I felt like I belonged in that sanctuary. I actually wanted to be there!
Fast forward to high school. Mumsy hauled my carcass out of bed every Sunday, and I used church mostly as a social hour–pass notes to the other girls in the back pew, watch to see if anyone was digging for gold (picking the nose), and head back to the nursery to play with the toddlers when the sermon commenced. I had been a highly gung ho Christian as a kid, but was less so as a teen. Why? Well, I was a teen–enough said there, right? Mostly, however, I had begun to question certain tents of my faith. Like, no one can go to heaven if they don’t accept Jesus as their savior. Now in order to do that, one has to have the cognition to grasp the whole concept of Jesus, something a severely mentally retarded person would be sadly unable to do. So all severely mentally retarded folks who couldn’t understand the concept of Jesus were doomed? What? I don’t recall any caveats to that idea-ya either did or didn’t accept Jesus. Ya either went to heaven or to hell. How could that scheme be cooked up by a loving God? And on and on, until I just couldn’t buy any of it anymore at all. So I waved goodbye to Christianity. Continue reading “Why Choose a Spiritual Path?”→
As I pondered what on earth to write about today, I decided to glance through my old blogs to see what stone I had left unturned about me and my psychic world. There is a large doozy of a stone left unturned, and that is why I do what I do. What would make one want to ditch her hard earned master’s degree and the career she was so excited about to do this instead? I have three answers: the government and insurance companies. Number three shall show herself a little later in our blog.
The career I had practically drooled and frothed at the mouth to enter was that of a clinical social worker. A counselor, to be exact. For many moons, I had dreamed of having my own practice, helping clients with whatever. For many moons much longer than that, people had spontaneously told me their troubles. And I was happy with that. I loved (and still do) when someone shared their heart and soul with me, maybe seeking advice, maybe not. Didn’t matter; I still enjoyed the dialogue. Continue reading “Why I Am A Psychic Medium, Etc.”→
For many moons, I thought it would be just the best to be able to talk with the spirit world. Why? The biggest reason is that I miss my family and friends (both those who used to be both human and animal) so, so terribly. Like everyone else, I have some relatives who are, to be nice, unsavory individuals. For the most part, my family has been lovely. My dad and grandparents were particularly lovely humans, and never a day goes by where my heart doesn’t hurt because they are out of their body. I thought being able to still at least have a conversation with them would ease the pain. I also dug the idea of being able to help clients with their grief issues. Continue reading “My First Contact with the “Dead””→