Don't turn your back on me

The hardest thing about growing up with intuitive abilities - it wasn't hearing spirits in my room at night

As soon as I’d close my eyes, I would hear them and see them - a jumble of faces and voices looking and talking at me. I was four years old, and always dreaded bedtime. Bedtime was when things emerged from the dark. When I told my mom about the faces and voices, she told me not to worry because it was “just my imagination.” It wasn’t my imagination. It was real. There were spirits in my room.

Since my earliest childhood memories, I remember seeing, hearing and feeling things that “weren’t there.” I remember looking up at a crack in the ceiling of our apartment while twirling a plastic necklace in my hands, and then suddenly being pushed out of the way by some unseen force as chunks of the ceiling crashed down to where I’d just been standing. (Now in hindsight, I think it was my spirit guide).

I remember being in a hotel room with my mom while we were on vacation, and waiting for my dad to finish a business meeting so we could go for lunch together. He was late, and my mom was wondering how much longer he would be. This was in the 80s, so we couldn’t just text him. As soon as my mother pondered this aloud, I saw an image of him entering the hotel elevator in my mind’s eye and told her, “Oh, he’s coming up right now!” A minute later, we heard a knock on the door.

I was at my 4th grade bestie’s house, and we were sitting on her couch watching music videos. I think it was New Kids on the Block. I was trying to focus, but kept getting distracted by the noisy conversation that was taking place in the corner of the room, where there was… nothing but a plant. I glanced over at my friend. She was entranced by Joey McIntyre. Did she hear it? Or was it just me…? It was the first time that I thought there might be something wrong with me.

From seeing and hearing spirits to suffering nightfrights that were so vivid they felt more like memories, to having an irrational fear of the full moon - it was all unsettling. However, the thing that was most unsettling for me was something else that I could sense but not see: my mother’s secrets.

Photo by Nick Shandra on Unsplash

When I was around six or seven years old, I went through a phase of needing my mom to squeeze my hand tighter when we were holding hands. She thought I was being my usual weird self. “I’m holding your hand, silly!” she said. But something made me feel uneasy. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Something was off. I just had the overwhelming feeling of not wanting her to let go of my hand. Don’t let go of me. Hold me tighter. Don’t let me go.

My dad used to go away on business trips for months at a time. When he was away, my mom would always let me sleep in the big bed with her. I loved cuddling before we fell asleep, and I never wanted her to turn around and face the other way before I closed my eyes. It used to upset me, and neither of us understood why. “I’m right here,” she whispered. For some reason, it unnerved me to see her back turned to me. Something wasn’t right. Don’t turn your back on me.

Just a year later, when I turned eight, my life and world turned upside down.

On a trip to Hong Kong to see my dad, the first one which my mom didn’t join, I discovered that my father had a whole other family there - another woman, and two daughters. Is this where he went when he went on his “business trips?” It felt like the ground beneath my feet caved in. My mom knew. And neither of them decided to ever tell me the truth. During that same trip, my parents made their own custody arrangements and my mother surrendered me to my father and his other family.

Don’t let me go. Don’t turn your back on me.

It wasn’t my imagination.

Something was wrong.

I had sensed the truth before they told me.

My sensitivity and intuitive abilities had always felt like a curse. It felt like that all the way until my late 20s. Until I went through a dark night of the soul that changed everything. But that’s for another post ; )

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I felt alone and confused whenever I tried to tell people about the things I saw and heard. I would often be told it was my imagination, even though I knew it wasn’t, but after a while, I started to question myself. I always wished there was someone to talk to about this.

I decided that I wanted to be that person. If you see, hear or feel things that other people don’t, or if you feel something is off, or if you’ve just started your intuitive development journey and want some tips, or just someone to chat with, then the Pick-My-Brain Coffee Chat is for you.

Grab a cup of coffee or tea and let’s chat all things psychic and intuitive! I’d love to hear about your experiences, and share tips and insights from my 13+ years of being a professional intuitive.

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