The Truth About Psychics
When I was a little girl, I was very observant. My family lived on a tight-knit cul-de-sac with about fifteen other families. Everyone knew each other and cared for each others’ children. I was the middle child of three girls. Both my sisters were loud, extroverted, and precocious. I was the complete opposite. I was quiet, shy, and introverted. I would often sit for hours in my bedroom singing, drawing, and creating a world inside my head. Because my parents were very social and had many friends, my home and my street would be bustling with energy at all hours of the day. This was the 80s; most moms on our street stayed home or only worked part-time. My family home also backed onto a schoolyard, the only public school in town that went from K-12. There was always something happening in my neighborhood.
As young as I can remember, probably starting at three years old, I was sensitive to my environment. I would listen to adult conversations intently, pick up on others’ body language, and read their intentions. I remember feeling overwhelmed as I learned to make sense of my feelings and emotions and my environment. I would cope with this by having vivid dreams and creating stories through mental imagery. I also had a thing. I called it “Big Things,” where objects in a room would appear larger when I was feeling overwhelmed. While all the children on my street seemed to revel in the outward physical and social experience that was childhood, I was coexisting between the tangible world and the supersensible.
I eventually learned to live with my ability to perceive the world around me with a heightened level of awareness, but I often felt misunderstood and alone. My parents tried to be somewhat supportive of my “overly active imagination,” as they referred to it, but I think I made them feel somewhat uneasy. My older sister would indulge in my claims of ghosts, apparitions, lucid dreaming, and otherworldly visions. Perhaps she experienced similar thoughts and feelings, but she never admitted to it. My younger sister thought I was weird and a bit scary at times.
As I got older, probably by the time I entered grade school, my strong intuition and vivid imagination became a hindrance. I realized that my sensitivities made me vulnerable and were perceived by others as unacceptable, especially other children, so I tucked them away for safekeeping. The problem with hiding your vulnerabilities is that some teachers have a sensor for unusual qualities in children. I possess this also as a preschool teacher. I had teachers that honed in on my ability to observe my environment with the clarity of a prophet. I was often favored by teachers that lived outside of the box, but I was also intimidated and bullied by teachers that thought I was inattentive, slow, or distracted. The one benefit that my intuition gave me was the ability to navigate relationships in high school. I had no problem making friends. I was popular and surprisingly self-confident for a teenager.
By the time I was twenty, my life had become complicated. I had difficulty adjusting to being on my own, and I found the social aspects of college juvenile and exhausting. I dropped out of several college programs by the time I was in my mid-twenties and was using drugs and alcohol to manage my feelings and masking my heightened sense of the world around me. During this time, I met other creative people who began to feed my need to experience a more dynamic existence. I befriended musicians, artists, poets, dancers, writers, and university professors. I finally felt like I had found my people, somewhere I could belong, but the drugs and alcohol eventually ripped that life away from me, and I ended up in rehab and therapy.
The second half of my twenties and into my thirties became a journey of self-exploration. It opened up my world to philosophy, theosophy, spirituality, and my understanding that self-care and personal development were the answers to getting my life and my intuitive capabilities back on track. I spent much of those years moving around, working at remote resorts, and taking in my environment. I was a lone wolf moving in and out of experiences like a traveler.
At some point, my ability to experience vivid dreams and perceive and grasp complicated philosophical concepts became a driving force in my life’s journey. I wanted to know more about how intuition worked. I had questions about the validity of psychic powers, so I attended various psychic fairs and talked to individuals who claimed to be seers.
What I discovered was a world of con artists, charlatans, posers, spirituality seekers, and individuals well-trained in the art of using their intuition to manipulate those in their confidence. Essentially, I found a community of actors and seekers who all claimed to have special psychic powers that you could utilize by giving them ridiculous amounts of your hard-earned money. I felt like an alien amongst this crowd. There was an element of truth to their claims to intuit as we are all born with an innate intuition that I believe is hidden in our subconscious and rarely tapped into. But to me, the world of psychics seemed more like a money-making industry full of pretenses and dramatic entrances, solely created for entertainment than a place for me to find like-minded people I could learn from.
My saving grace to maintain my integrity in what I was experiencing was my continued interest in philosophy, history, spirituality, and theosophy. Through my curiosity, and with the help of few key philosophers, I can make sense of my sharp intuition; while continually questioning my perceptions and validating my experiences in a way that aligns with my truth.
I know that the best way to utilize my gifts is to give to others and help create a healthier society. I give as a teacher, and yes, I collect a pay check, but I also offer my gift of intuition for free from a place of compassion. I think this makes me honest. I can live with peace of mind and maintain integrity, knowing that I am not claiming to be special or separate from anyone else on this earth. We are all capable of opening our senses to the supersensible world. We just have to let our guard down, listen to the subtle messages in our minds and hearts, and learn how to breathe a little deeper and live our lives with the purest intentions.
S. Angell is a published poet, writer, philosopher, video blogger, and preschool teacher by day. She explores an array of topics including love, life, death, history, and society from a philosophical perspective. You can find her on Instagram @therainydaypoetess or TheRainyDayPoet.com
