On Being Psychic
Am I Psychic?
The word “Psychic” scares the shit out of me. I get this knotted feeling in my stomach and I kind of want to barf. I come from a long line of severely mentally ill people. Shocking, I know, but seriously. My grandma had paranoid schizophrenia, and you know they say schizophrenia skips a generation in the afflicted.
I also come from a past of severely abusing hard drugs, and sometimes on those drugs, I had psychotic meltdowns. It’s uncommon, but not entirely abnormal, for a 14-year-old girl to take a few mollies and smoke pot, go to the movies, and come home to think her skittles from the movies were poisoned and that’s why there was a gigantic dragon downstairs by the front door.
See, here’s what happened: I’ve always been curious, adventurous, and wandering. As a small child, I played the piano and called it “faerie music.” When I was 12, I read “Celestine Prophecy” and learned how to not only lucid dream, but also astral project. Astral Projection is pretty fucking scary to a 12-year-old when she’s doing it at 3am and has been researching it since 7pm the night before. The Internet is a beautiful thing.
Then, drugs took over. I was in and out of psych wards, hospitals, and juvenile detention centers for my self-injury, suicidal tendencies, and had a completely insatiable lust for drugs to just get out of myself. This lasted until I was 16. I’ve always thought I heal at warp-speed. By 16, I had been a prostitute, homeless, crack addict, and been placed in juvenile detention, then rehab for a year to dry out.
I got sober. I got stronger. There was some weird cult-like stuff. I healed tremendously in the nature backpacking through Utah, Oregon, and Iowa. I almost died a few times in natural disasters, and that laid a solid foundation for my spiritual path. I accidentally, but lovingly, started a family that has seen tremendously joyful additions.
By 23, I felt like an old woman who had already experienced a lifetime of shit. I settled into adulthood, occasionally and responsibly taking part in drinks with friends and an occasional joint. For the past five years, I’ve followed a Pagan path, and reconnected with my long lost passion of metaphysics.
This other thing has happened recently, too. When I meditate, I commune with the Universe. I am the Universe. I can feel, and hear, and see, and sense things that not everyone else can. I can see a grid-like overlay on our dimension. I can manipulate energy because I’m made of energy. I use my energy to heal, encourage, and love. UFOs follow me (seriously), and weird things generally happen to and around me.
The thought of me being psychic was horrifying at first. There are still some doubts, and I still firmly believe that mental health and being psychic do co-exist. I am constantly checking in, observing, and discussing my findings. I use people as a sounding board to make sure I’m not having a psychotic breakdown of some sort. I am journeying this path I started at 12, and picking up where I left off.
It’s strange and very deja vu, but I know this is my path. I’m scared as fuck, but I’m going to continue developing and learning about my abilities.