Guest Author - Elleise
At any given point in life it seems a better understanding of who and what we are can cause us to leave no stone unturned, searching for that missing link. For people with psychic abilities, that understanding can include questioning and even shutting down the same abilities that had us searching for answers to begin with.
It was the term "sensitive child" that held something of a haunting during my formitive years. Adapting to what I considered to be a foriegn way of life, would after all was said and done, come down to having to decide for myself what I believed if I ever wanted to be happy.
For many years not only did it feel as if I were crazy but there was the added benefit of having to prove to myself that I wasn't.
I remember in 4th grade being afraid of a teacher I had. Normal enough, it went something like feeling as if I were going to see the Devil himself when I'd enter her room. At such a young age and few articulate words, it fell on deaf ears. Headaches, panic attacks and held back tears before stepping inside, became almost routine. Ironically, relief would come in a news headline featuring this woman and the scandal of kidnapping and underground selling of children, specifically babies. I had never since had another feeling similar, in regards to teachers, that is.
I was, eventually, required to take a good look at the relationship I had with myself, where I worked, my friends, people and situations that I would seek out as well those who would seek me. I had to take responsibility, as I know now, for the part I played in reciprocating a place of use for my gifts.
In no order of significance, public and private events came to pass 1, 2, 3, 5, 10, years, days or even hours, later. Rarely was there anything to be done. Few would listen and even less would believe. I deduced a curse or fall out from God maybe; a deserved punishment for being alive? Hypocritical as it may seem, the same source of comfort was sought in joining an Abbey. However, the church felt wrong, the bible felt it had chunks left out and even the history we studied in school felt inaccurate.
But today, at this moment I figure, I'm here and all the better for having every position, good or bad, and even scrutiny of the "curse" I now call home. In every aspect, in every tear, the devine interior of experience now offers a place of comfort; a haven for others and those needing to revive a home of their own.