Was I Born This Way?

Some folks are born with all their psychic skills already booming and ready to go. They learn language and become mobile, 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.

At the age of 13, it happened. That is when the cat came out of the bag that something highly unusual with going on with me. I had my first premonition during a dream of someone’s death. I was terrified!

Not much happened again until I was 19, when more premonitions occurred. They continued into my early 20’s. By then, I was starting to find the whole thing more fascinating than freaky and begin reading voraciously about psychic phenomena and such. My abilities grew stronger as I aged, without me doing really anything to build them.

I can’t say I was surprised when I was able to immediately do a reading after visiting a psychic and asking how to do readings. I simply sat down and did it. WOW!! I was in between semesters of graduate school, so my fledgling skills were forgotten as the next semester commenced. I was 34 years of age, 16 years ago.

The rest is history. Some practicing, some meditation, and I was a full-blown freaking psychic.

I am so, so grateful that my skills grew as they did. I had some years of living with only my 5 senses, and also being leery of psychics and healers. What was up with them? How on earth could they do these feats? Were they reading my mind? Because of this, I completely understand and respect that some people may think I am scary. I answer their questions about my profession until they feel comfortable. I also realize that what I offer isn’t for everyone. That is A-ok too.

Don’t think you are ever too old to use your 6th senses. You can develop them at any time in your life, to whatever extent you are willing to apply the effort. I help clients with their psychic journeys, so let me know how I can help you with yours!

A Public Service Announcement from Your “DEAD” Loved Ones

Many moons ago, I penned a blog about what your dead pets would share with you if they could. My goodness, that has been popular! So, I thought the other day, what would our dead beloved humans want us to know? Read on to discover what I feel they would most want to tell you.

They would want you to know that when you sense them around you, you see signs of them (such as a blue butterfly or a cardinal), they hug you in a dream…..that is really them! So many people question if they are just nuttier than squirrel shit, or actually in the presence of their loved one. They are with you. Spirits have truly remarkable abilities to communicate and connect with us. My dad can turn on music boxes, my grandpa threw a camera in my bedroom once, and I occasionally smell cigarette smoke from my other grandfather. How do they accomplish these feats? By manipulating energy, that is the only way I can explain it. Some spirits seem better able to move energy soon after their transition, while others have to learn how to do this. What if you were incredibly close to someone, you have expected communication of any type, and nothing is happening? In all likelihood, they are either in the development process of these skills, and/or your grief is blocking you from discerning the connection. Time and patience will usually offer the link to them that you want.

Before I go any further, I had best explain where I am getting my information. I am not pulling this out of thin air, hoping it brings comfort to some. Nope, this blog is fueled by my 13 years as a psychic medium, plus all the books I have read about the Afterlife, past lives, and similar topics. If you agree with what I write, yay for us! If your experience is different than mine, yay for us again! You may have read books or blogs which directly contradict me, may have a certain religious belief that makes this all seem like hooey, or for whatever other reason, this just doesn’t jibe with you. That is all good! We must discern our own truth– I am not “the boss of you” when it comes to your beliefs.

In my work, people who were nasty, abusive, or simply a run-of-the-mill asshat behave with kindness and civility, wishing to apologize for hurt or harm they caused. I was in the middle of a session with a lady one day, and a relative wanted to talk to her. We will call the relative Blanche. So I say to the client that Blanche is here. Hokey Smokes, you would have thought I had pronounced the devil to be sitting beside her! “No, I don’t want to talk to her! She was awful!” I immediately comforted her that Blanche materialized to make amends, that she would be a loving spirit, or I would cut off the conversation. I also shared that she could refuse to chat with Blanche. The choice was hers.

We often long for our departed loved ones at our special occasions, such as weddings, or when life is turdy and tumultuous. Guess what? They are there. Our bonds of love connect us eternally. My eyes well with tears at the holidays because I so badly want my departed family back in their bodies, to be healthy, laughing, and enjoying our festivities. Somehow, though, I can feel their energies, beside me and sharing love like we used to. I can guarantee yours are with you also; you are never alone.

Death is one of the most excruciatingly painful experiences we humans face when we are the ones left behind. I hope my words have provided joy and comfort.

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: 1. Government policies 2. 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 have 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 counseling 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 burnout 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 the 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.

What is Animal Communication?

If you are a regular consumer of my blog, you will read the following and think for sure that I am plagiarizing. It is so serious! It is so…..normal?!?! But nay, I am not plagiarizing. I can write in a professional manner when necessary, and I needed to pen an article about animal communication to potentially be published in a local publication. So here it is! I wanted to share it on my blog because it so succinctly explains the ins and outs of animal communication. I am not a “pet psychic.” I don’t just read your pet’s energy; I actually have a full conversation with him or her, same as I do a human. The term animal communicator much better describes the service since actual interspecies dialogue occurs.

Perhaps you have heard of animal communication. It has become quite mainstream here in Indiana, and I am sure you understand the general idea. Animal communication—talking with animals, right? But what does that actually entail?

Here’s the scoop:

Animal communication is indeed exactly what the name implies.  Here is what happens: I connect telepathically with the furry one and receive their thoughts. I translate the meaning of the message into plain English for their humans, then translate the human’s message back to their friend. This is how I facilitate an actual dialogue which enables us to solve behavioral and physical challenges the animal is facing.

How does the message appear in my brain? Sometimes the information is literally in plain English-it simply pops right in. Other times it is visual only, but usually a combination of both. Some animals “speak” more English, and some “speak” more visually. It is common for me to “taste” a favorite treat in my mouth, or “smell” a particularly vivid odor, such as a skunk.

For example, a client’s dog, Bowzer, seemed depressed. He was lethargic, and the sparkle in his eyes had dimmed. When I connected with him, I immediately felt his sadness. I asked him what was causing it, and he shared it stemmed from his foster mom having potential families come to meet him. Bowzer was so sad because he wanted to stay with his foster mom; they had bonded deeply, and he was elated with his current situation.  Kay, the foster mom, wanted to adopt him but had concerns about keeping him due to his medical situation. She had two sets of stairs he had to climb, and he would be better off in a one-story home since he had an injured shoulder. I received the sensation of shoulder pain from Bowzer, and he spoke of how it didn’t matter to him. His main concern was staying with Kay. By the end of the conversation, Kay had agreed to keep him as long as he could heal in her home. Bowzer was smiling and thumping his gargantuan tail vigorously.  I received the emotion of gratitude, and he invited me to return any time I was in the neighborhood.

People contact communicators to get help alleviating emotional or physical problems the animal is experiencing, such as aggressiveness or recurrent urinary tract infections not responding well to treatment. A session is conducted either in the home or by phone. I only need the name and species of the animal in order to connect. Results vary. Some animals comply with requests for a different behavior quickly, while others require several sessions. Sometimes the humans need to adopt a different behavior also in order for their furry friend to act better.

With health concerns, animals may know what is causing the ailment. If they don’t, I can find out. Some clients provide the information I give to their vet, who can use it to better assess and treat their beloved furry family member. Flower essences, herbs, and essential oils can relieve the symptoms, or actually cure them. If it feels one of these would be useful, then I refer the family to a holistic vet in Indianapolis who is trained in these modalities.

Regardless of the reason for using animal communication services, animals and their families feel closer and more bonded after they actually hear and understand each other. To me, as the communicator, that is the biggest benefit of all.

What Happens When You Ignore Your Spirit Guides? A Tale of Woe

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!

One sleepy Wednesday morning, as I hurried to hang up my coat and proceed to my HIIT class, I heard on the left side of my head, “Don’t hang that up. Someone might steal it.” I heard it loudly. And. Clearly. On the receiving side of my head where I listen to all intuitive/psychic input.

I chose to ignore it. I didn’t want to crumple up my beloved blanket coat in a short locker. Besides, I sweat it out at a posh gym on a posh side of town. “Don’t be paranoid. No one is going to steal your coat.”

Saturday morning, the locker room bustled and teemed with women in leggings too tight. Once again, more loudly, as I hung up my coat, “Don’t hang this up! Someone might steal it!” I was getting a mite pissy with this “paranoid” train of thought and soundly ignored it.

Guess who got her own tale of woe upon returning to the locker room? Yep, me. Dang thing was as gone as gone could be, with all my keys in the pocket, too. Despite assistance from management in tracking down the coat and keys, alas, they were long gone. I hoped that whoever stole it choked on a ham bone while wearing it-LOL!!! Karma will get them, whether or not a ham bone is involved.

Now, I have been receiving strong psychic information for literally years. Why would I choose to ignore what was clearly wise guidance?

  1. The advice was being spoken in a female voice, and I am used to hearing a genderless voice. That really threw me. I thought I was simply full of crap.
  2. I was tired and wanted to do what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it. Like a two-year-old ignoring Mom when she says not to touch a lit stove burner.
  3. I had allowed my connection to guidance for myself to weaken. I was too busy and too tired to tune in regularly. Even though I have been doing this forever, excellent self-care, rest, and meditation benefit all of us on the intuitive/psychic journey.

Guess who is listening better? Me. (I hope my guides aren’t laughing!) By the time I replace all the keys and the coat, it is going to cost me $600 or so. Ekkkk!

I hope this helps you listen better to yourself and your guides.

Create a Laughing Matter

This dismal, gray, saggy time of year sucks the laughter out of many. Add the political maelstrom the U.S. is currently experiencing, and the ability to laugh really heads to hell in a hand basket. If that isn’t chapping your ass, then something else probably  is–a loved one diagnosed with cancer, your boss is an old bat (or bastard), etc, etc. If we allow it, life will drain us of our joy juice. Please don’t let that happen. Find some way to laugh. Even for a minute, if you can, or at least give it a shot.

When life is too frightening, too bewildering, the one thing we can always bank on is that laughter will make us feel better at least temporarily. It is like an IV of glee and glitter for your soul. Laughter is free. Snicker at some Three Stooges on Youtube, hang out with your bestie whose sense of humor is superb, listen to a laugh track…..whatever it takes! Can’t think of anything that could garner a guffaw right now? What used to make you laugh? How can you access that in the current moment?

Continue reading “Create a Laughing Matter”

When Shite Smites the Fan, Part 2

As I pondered my inspiration for this blog, a phrase from my Nicheren Buddhist practice popped into my brain. “Changing poison into medicine.” Same concept as making lemonade when Life hands ya a large bag of lemons, but with a twist: Sometimes we don’t know what is poison, and what is medicine. My topic isn’t about merely making the best of a bad situation–it is about viewing those lemons in an entirely different light. “Oh joy,” you think, “I am tired of being an old bitch (or bastard) today. What might this brilliant author (snort!!!) have to teach me?”

Continue reading “When Shite Smites the Fan, Part 2”

My Most Comical Moments as an Animal Communicator

Animal communication is a very rewarding to share with families. It is also hysterically funny at times. Here are some good giggles I have gotten over the years.

Having my tit mistaken for a squeaky toy ranks right up there! The dog was out of his wee marbles with bliss that we were going to talk, and also feeling anxious. As his stout body swirled in a circle next to me, attempting to climb onto my leg and slobber all over my head, he suddenly chomped down onto one of mine bosoms. I flopped back onto the couch and lost it cackling!

Continue reading “My Most Comical Moments as an Animal Communicator”

What It’s Like to Talk to a “Dead” Person With Me

We all grieve. If we are lucky enough to love, we gotta take the painful with the pleasant. Many folks would like to reconnect with their loved ones who have “bought the farm” (a small town euphemism for dying) , but are scared silly of what exactly will happen when they finally have that opportunity. Is my loved one going to be crabby at me because I wore something ugly to their funeral? Are they gonna ride my ass about the way I am living my life? Will they suddenly appear from the ethers and goose me? Nahhhhh….it’s pretty much a regular old conversation. Except–you are in your body, your loved one isn’t.

So here’s the scoop about what happens when you sit across from me, awaiting the connection to Grandma, the dog, whomever: First thing I do is spin my head around on my neck like a top and yak green pea soup all over the wall. JUST JOKING! Hollywood paints all things related to spirits as some horrifying, gruesome affair. They would be wrong.

Continue reading “What It’s Like to Talk to a “Dead” Person With Me”

How to Spot a Scamming Psychic, Part 2

Unfortunately, I felt compelled to pen a Part 2 on this topic. I want consumers to be well-educated on choosing a quality energy reader.

So here is what popped into my head since last week: the psychic should be able to provide extremely detailed information about you and your life. If they are continually stumbling along and acting like everything is hunky dory when they ain’t getting shit or shinola right, then ask them if they can read you. Continue reading “How to Spot a Scamming Psychic, Part 2”