Why I Am A Psychic Medium, Etc.

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.

After deciding to exit retail (my first degree was in fashion merchandising), I earned my second degree in psychology. And then I learned that I would for sure need that master’s to do any job healing people–ye old bachelor’s degree doesn’t move your ass far, trust me.

Grad school sucked. Let’s not beat around the bush here; I loved learning, but…working, grad school, a 10 month old puppy, and my grandfather dying during that time were all a bit much at once. Many times during those 3 long years, I would tiredly scribble, “Annie Sever-Dimitri, MSW” over and over again to motivate myself to continue. I was so excited to sign off on professional paperwork with those initials MSW perched cozily behind my name.

As graduation finally approached, I felt it would be a good idea to get my counseling feet wet working at a community mental health center. HA HA HA HA! Until I learned that the quality of the work I did meant not shit, zip, zilch. What mattered was billing the government, getting those juicy “billable hours”–that was the most critical aspect of the work at the community mental health centers. Having high billable hours was how one earned pay raises, not how you treated your clients. So see ya to that idea! I couldn’t treat people like a dollar sign.

Being unable to see other humans as a dollar sign eventually caused massive burn out only months into my career as an intake clinician at a psychiatric hospital. Let’s be honest; I was horribly burned out on social work by the time I left school! Spending 3 months as a PRN social worker on a trauma unit was the icing on the cake; spending any time as an intake clinician was the ice cream on top of the cake.

My job was to evaluate folks seeking services, recommend level of care (inpatient, intensive outpatient, etc), call their insurance company to seek reimbursement for treatment, process the paperwork, and walk them down to the inpatient unit. I also got to call the police if someone suicidal didn’t want to be admitted. Talk about a zoo. I was glad I never had to do that.

What I did have to do, A LOT, was tell parents how to keep their children from committing suicide until the child could return for day treatment the following morning. Insurance companies will do ANYTHING to keep from paying for inpatient treatment. It was hell. Many suicidal people will hint, but not give anything concrete, on which to provide a diagnosis of active suicidal ideation. Without that, it didn’t matter what the child was saying or doing, those parents were going to be taking that sick kid home with them and keeping their fingers crossed until the next day. My heart broke daily watching how these families suffered, and my ethics were kicked in the crotch routinely too. One of the older employees delighted in seeing our schedule book full, not caring particularly how anyone was scheduled on that book. They were just there, and the hospital was going to make money. Luckily, I had already given my one month notice when I discovered that our child psychiatrist had been ordered by company executives not to increase children’s psych meds more than a certain amount daily. Why? They were being released too soon, causing the hospital to lose money. I wanted to bitch slap someone; what was best for our patients didn’t matter, just bring the damn money in.

My health was totally in the crapper by the time April 24th, 2006 rolled around, which was my last day as a social worker. If I hadn’t worn a skirt, I would have turned cartwheels down the hallway as I trucked it out of there my final shift.

I continued cleaning houses (was never able to do social work full time and cleaned houses the days I wasn’t working at hospital), and I found a truly hilarious and lucrative job as a server in a tiny cafe. My coworkers were SO funny, something I had needed badly for years–there is absolutely nothing funny about social work. Well, sometimes, but not that often. As I regained my health and considered what to do with myself, I decided I would learn life coaching and image consulting. Well, well, well, those aren’t really up my alley. I am too quirky for such staid employment. As I learned to accept my psychic abilities, I found that the third reason I left social work was that I had never felt comfortable or right with it. I didn’t even want to finish my degree, but did it anyway with only two semesters left. I discovered the reason I chose to help people and animals with my psychic self was because it felt.so.right. Social work had never felt this good. I would stand on my head and spit nickels in order to be a psychic and an animal communicator. I simply adore helping clients with whatever is happening in their world–be it grief, calming down, healing old wounds—and I am thrilled I get to spend the rest of my days on the planet doing this. I feel about my work the same as I do about my husband. He always felt right and good, even during our first conversation. Doesn’t mean my career or my marriage are always a stroll in the park…..nah, we’re human, and I hate computer work. But they always feel right, good, and worth the effort.



My First Contact with the “Dead”

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.

In 2002, I discovered I could read energy. Holy moly! By 2006, I began to offer readings professionally. Yet as much as I listened, hoping to discern the slightest peep from the Other Side, all I got were crickets chirping. No one ever came through.

I soon began reading book after book about mediumship. How I plowed through those pages with fervor and determination! If anyone could learn how to do it, by cracky, it was going to be me. I refused to get my pants into a wad about it, though. I knew if I was meant to be a medium, it would happen. If not, then I would choose to get over it.

One day, as I was wrapping up with a client (who I will call Gert), something very unusual crept into my consciousness. I was no longer receiving only Gert’s energy; someone else was there too. I sensed she was a woman and requested her identity. She replied that she was my Gert’s grandma. Stunned and about to pee myself with excitement, I breathlessly told Gert who was around to visit. She began to cry. I started to cry. As we both sat there with tears in our eyes, Grandma unloaded information which her granddaughter verified. I DID IT!!! I was completely choked up that it had finally happened.

Of course, through the passing of time, I have become better and better able to connect with the Other Side. How rewarding it is to see my clients filled with joy and relief when they receive messages from their loved ones.  I am so grateful I have this ability.


My Secret Protection

Nope, not going to dish about deodorant, feminine hygiene care or whatnot. I am referring to energetic protection here, not smelly parts. What is energetic protection? For me, it is an activity, product, or both simultaneously which keeps my aura clean, comfortable, and in top notch working order. Anyone, animal or human, who is sensitive to vibrations needs daily energetic guarding.

Golden Armor is a flower essence which provides some boisterously kick ass protection. Created by Green Hope Flower Essences for both animals and humans, here is how they describe it on their website:

“Our most important Essence for electrical protection

Golden Armor provides information to our electrical systems about how to buffer and protect us from computer screens, radiation and atmospheric changes, aberrant astral energies, human negativity, dissonant sounds, viruses, bacteria, man made dissonance in the airwaves and any other kind of vibrational bombardment we experience.

-Animals almost invariably need this remedy because they are deeply affected by the immense amount of man made dissonance in the airwaves.
-The Angels encourage all the people and animals at the farm take Golden Armor every day.


Abutilon, Echinops, Elderberry, Eryngium, French Marigold, Golden Yarrow, Goldenrod, Leopard’s Bane, Rattlesnake Master, Sea Holly, St John’s Wort, Teasel, Thistle, Titan, White Yarrow, Wild Abutilon”

I purchased it initially for our poor dog who picked up every vibe within a 5 mile radius. She was a spaz. Within a few days of dropping a dribble or two upon the top of her head, the employees at her daycare asked us what we had to done to her-she was SO much calmer!

Since I need to prevent myself from also picking up every vibe within a 5 mile radius, I began slopping it onto the top of my head too. Now my head smells reminiscent of a  douche, due to the vinegary aroma, but oh well–there are worse scents to waft from my locks.

If you feel everyone else’s emotions, are uncomfortable in large crowds because you are energetically overwhelmed, or you receive information about people walking by you, get thee some! For your animals,  an increase in your stress level means theirs is going up too. Give them some. You and your furry loved one will both feel uplifted, grounded, and stable.

Click here to fetch yourself a bottle:https://www.greenhopeessences.com/essences/golden-armor

Ya Think Life Would Be Easier…..

Indeed. Seems like life would be a hell of a lot easier, smoother, etc and whatnot when a gal (or dude) can read energy. You know what to do! You hear guidance, as if perhaps Archangel Michael is blasting directions through a megaphone into your head. No willy nillying around, trying to make up your mind about your situation. Oh no, because you read energy!

It isn’t that simple. Like most counselors and other helping professionals, we are fabulous at doling out advice, but can’t always figure out what to do for ourselves. Some intuitives and psychics can’t even pick up information for themselves. I can, but at times, my attachment to the outcome boogers everything up. Why? Two words–attachment and should.

I have written endlessly about the nastiness of the words should and attachment. Both can cause a pecker load of trouble. Focusing on what we deem to be the best outcome, without allowing that another could be equally as beneficial, is indeed angst producing. And should. Doing what we think others want us to do, or what is the “right” thing to do, but not really taking into account what feels best,usually  winds up pooping on our parade in the long run.

So if making a decision is causing you trouble, do what I plan on doing. Write about it at length, talk to your friends and family, perhaps go see a counselor or psychic (or both), and then sit still with yourself and your version of spirit guides, God, Allah, whomever. It may take a while, but eventually, the answer will show itself.

What’s Hot To Trot About Aging–And What’s Not

Aging gets a shitty rap. Now that I am getting old enough to be weathering the storms of perimenopause and it’s absolute weirdness, I can understand why.  Actually I understood why it gets a shitty rap quite a long time ago when my grandparents and dad died. I am here to tell ya: aging ain’t all a turd fest. It truly has benefits, and in some cases, many of them! Come along with me while I tell you a tale of what I dig about no longer being a “spring chicken.”


Dude, the wisdom you gain as you watch those birthdays tick by is astounding! (If you are doing it right. Otherwise, you can remain a jackass minus any common sense until you croak.) How to make this wisdom yours? Learn from your “mistakes”.  I screwed up plenty, plenty, PLENTY of times years ago. I still do! However, these snafus are nothing but an opportunity dressed in an ugly outfit from Walmart.  Being an avid reader has served me well. I love both chick lit (Jennifer Weiner, anyone??) and more thought provoking tomes from Daisaku Ikeda, Dalai Lama, Mary Anne Williamson, Wayne Dyer, and on and on. Observing the tomfoolery of others and not engaging in the mistakes (opportunities) they created has increased my knowledge.

Zero fucks to give. I swear, this is one of my fave benefits! Truly, you learn that only certain people, places, objects, etc. are the only worthy investment of your precious fucks. I actually shaved my head this spring. That took some major lady balls because being a dame with a shaven noggin really flies in the face of what is attractive and acceptable for a female (at least here in the middle finger of the Bible Belt). Damn, I looked ugly after the first 10 days, but oh well. My hubs and I were both good with it. There really isn’t much joyous about perimenopause. But the decline in estrogen tends to render us less “people pleasing” as we march closer to the era when we can toss our tampons away with gleeful abandon. ( I am throwing a party when that day finally arrives!) So I perpetually look on the bright side of my hormonal nonsense.

Living the “less is more” motto feels superb!! Acquiring more stuff lacks appeal now. Stuff has to be cleaned, stored, organized……the hell with all that. I would rather possess only apparel, knick knacks, and the like which really knock my socks off with squealing delight.  I am learning to adopt the same mindset with time and energy management. Even though I live in Indianapolis, IN, there are still a plethora of classes, concerts, engaging speakers, and spiritual experiences in which to revel. Learned the hard way over and over again that I possess only a finite amount of energy, and as I earn more wrinkles, I routinely assess all the available intellectual and entertaining yummies and decide what really matters.

I absolutely under no circumstances allow myself around people whose energy utterly sucks. My life is way, way too short to spend it with perpetually jacked up individuals.

Having wrinkles and sagging bags under my eyes seems to guarantee that I never get hit on these days. Thank ya, Buddha!!! Once I lost weight in my mid 20’s, I was often the subject of a ton of unwanted attention. It was obnoxious, and at times, frightening. Being stalked down the street by a menacing asshole, yelling “Bitch, pay attention to me. You fucking bitch….”Sorry to tell ya, Chump, this type of verbiage tends to send women scrambling the opposite direction rather than convincing them to engage in conversation. Do I miss the attention? About as much as I would miss slathering hemorrhoids with Preparation H.


The aforementioned perimenopause. I am actually having a much easier time than other chicks, but still…..*sigh* Every day, I ingest enough products designed to keep me functioning and sane  to choke a horse. The freaking enormous belly and hips that I have to fight like hell to keep at bay can kiss my petooty also.

One of the things I hate most is the physical death of my family members. OUCH!!!! That has been hell. Yes, I can still connect with them energetically and converse, but hugs, phone calls…that is all gone.

Bodies cease producing abundant collagen. This one royally pisses me off. I used to be so limber that I could wiggle into poses that looked like I learned them in a circus freak show. Now such poses strain my muscles. Grrrr……Intense stretching feels so mighty fine. I do ingest an expensive collagen from my chiropractor, and it helps, but geez. What a crock.

Adulting in general. Life insurance, disability insurance, IRAs, wills, investments……yawn. Boring, drop dead dull ways to spend money. Yet, we do it anyway.

However you slice it and dice it, aging is most doable when you can maintain a sense of humor, practice gratitude, release attachments, and stay positive. Kinda like everything else in life. The only alternative is to be 6 feet under (or in an urn). I tend to appreciate my 50 year old self and life even more when I remember how many of my high school classmates and younger friends are now out of the body. I am fortunate to still be here, so I will gladly take the hot to trot with the not so hot to trot.

Can a Psychic/Animal Communicator Pick Up When Someone Will Die?

My Most Comical Moments as an Animal Communicator

My answer to that question is this: kinda and kinda not. Hey, aren’t you thankful that I am being so specific? LOL!

My most common experience pertaining to a soul leaving its body is that departure time often changes. Animals will tell me that they are healthy, and their energy feels lively. Next thing I  know, a week later, out of the body. As with  us, illness can strike animals with lightening fast speed, sometimes followed by death. When my dad was wretchedly ill in the last two to three years of his life, I would often get a strong premonition that his time was up–Grim Reaper was on the way. Sure enough, usually he would wind up back in the ER, barely breathing, but the medical staff’s ministrations always did the trick of reviving him. Until that last hospital stay, when his tired body finally pooped out on him.

The will to live profoundly affects when the body expires. All mammalian bodies can withstand incredible illness and disease, but yet the soul remains in the body. They just can’t leave because they want to stay. Then one day, either peace is made with transitioning into Spirit, or the body simply can’t do it anymore (or a combo of the two), and physical death occurs.

I have had a single experience of knowing when someone would die, and the time frame of death. I opened my altar to chant, when suddenly I knew that my great aunt was going to die that night, sometime between the hours of 3:00 and 5:00 am. By damn, she did. I have no clue why I received that one spot on, and it has never been that clear any other time. Not that I am complaining. I hate knowing when people and animals will die, and I usually try to filter that information.

Thanks for giving this the attention of your eyeballs. Keep in mind that this blog reflects my learning as a hospice volunteer for 4 years, and a psychic medium and animal communicator for 10-15 years. If your truth is something different, that is jolly. Please share it! I am always open to learning.




I’d Heard Rats are Good Pets…..My Experience Living With and Loving a Rat

IMG_2001A Beautiful Soul in a Tiny Body

On a frigid spring day earlier this year (April 27th, to be exact), I gazed tiredly out my bedroom window and observed my stoner neighbor with a small cage and an even smaller furry animal hunched up in it.  I threw the window open and inquired who was in the cage. Long story short, he didn’t want her anymore and was turning her loose.  Due to my dippy state of mind, it took me a hot second to figure out she would quickly die in the cold winds since she had never lived outdoors.

Of course I hightailed it out the front door and brought her in. And the rest, as they say, is history.

My friend Lynda is an avid fan of rats, so I thought she could direct us to a rat rescue. We didn’t need another pet, and Bea (our cat) absolutely didn’t want another animal in the crib. As I watched the rodent hungrily inhale every  morsel I gave her, I knew that she was ours. I simply couldn’t let her leave. It was pretty much rat love at first sight.

I quickly arranged a conversation with our animal communicator. I learned that her name is Christina. I also discovered she wanted to stay with us, even though we couldn’t get another rat (they are highly social and need to live in pairs). We decided we would be her parents and playmates.

I knew it would be fun to have her, but I never expected to become so attached to her so quickly! We talked frequently, and she was a witty and loving companion. I do wonder if she was an angelic energy in a rat body. I haven’t met another creature who radiated love and joy the way Christina did.

In our eyes, she could do no wrong. Chew on the couch blanket? No biggie. That made her happy, so it was all good. Chomp on my organic tampons kept under the bathroom sink, where she played and rummaged about? I pulled the wrapper off them and laughed myself senseless as she vigorously fluffed up that tampon with her teeth!

She LOVED to cuddle and sat with my hubby on the couch each night, placing her head into his hand or crawling under his shirt. She was like a teeny canine–super loving and playful, minus the big turds, behavior issues, and massive vet bills.

Rats have a shitily short life span. 😦

She was unable to recover from the inner ear infection which was ravaging her system last Sunday, so we stayed with her while our stellar vet helped her out of her pain. It really sucks.

Christina’s body was only in our home for 3 months and almost 3 weeks. Her energy and love will be in our hearts forever.

On a brighter note, she has promised to return to us. She wants to reincarnate as a baby rat and experience a longer life as our rodent. We are thrilled, and it does provide some comfort as we grieve the physical loss of her body. She and I are still conversing too, which is helpful. But I would give damn near anything to have her back healthy and happy.