There’s something I don’t say enough.
I am not all knowing.
I know that might surprise some of you. Maybe you’ve been reading these posts and somewhere in the back of your mind there was still a version of me that had it figured out. That being a psychic medium means moving through life with some kind of built in clarity that the rest of the world doesn’t have access to.
It’s actually the opposite.
This gift the one I was born with, the one that kept me up until 4am as a child with my fingers in my ears, the one I spent decades being terrified of before I learned to trust it, it doesn’t make me exempt from the hard parts of being human.
It makes me more aware of them.
I have struggled with my body and what the world told me it should look like.
I have sat with grief that felt too heavy to hold even for someone whose whole work is about what lies beyond it.
I have carried things from my childhood that shaped me in ways I’m still understanding.
I have loved people who hurt me and been loved by people who showed me what it means to be truly seen.
I wanted twins and got them just not the way I imagined.
I am fifty-four years old and I am still changing. Still being cracked open by new things. Still learning to trust the next door that appears.
I started writing differently a few months ago because I wanted you to know me.
Not the version of me that shows up to teach or guide or be present for your hardest moments.
The woman underneath that. The one who gets headaches when the seasons change and apologizes to her body for the years she spent at war with it and slips into her mother’s kitchen in her memory sometimes and finds the truest version of herself there.
That woman is the medium.
They were never two separate things.
If you’ve been following my blog, I want to say thank you.
Not because you showed up for me but because I hope somewhere in these posts you found permission to show up for yourself.
To be human and complicated and still becoming.
To stop waiting until you have it figured out before you decide you deserve your seat at the table.
To know that the people who feel everything the ones the world keeps coming to with its heaviest questions are allowed to put it down sometimes.
You are enough.
Exactly as you are.
Right now.