Maybe what I'm dealing with, going through, is interesting. But it doesn't feel that way. It feels like a person learning to play piano or guitar, and playing the same scales, over and over, hitting the same clunkers, over and over. It's every day, getting out of bed, walking to the piano, picking up the guitar, even when I don't feel like it, because I'm a pianist, a guitarist, and I hear music in my head all day every day, and I'm driven to learn how to translate it out of my head and into a space of reality where I can see it. And because if I don't, I go mad from the music, the constant music in my head. And also because I love it, even when I don't, but mostly because as this personality known as Katherine, it's what I do.
Around and around and around. Is that me running a spiraling flight away from the enemy? Or closing in on my prey for the sustenance I need? Or am I just circling the drain?
1. My money situation gets more wonky, which a public health educator job would solve in a flash. An educator job would mean a 15K raise. But all the educator jobs are near metro areas, and I can't afford to move right now, and with my health issues still kicking my butt, making a job and home and city/state move feels wrong. But the money squeeze spasms at least once a week, and so I apply for jobs, and because of my MPH and 10+ years of experience, get an interview for an amazing job. But within a day or two, something feels off, and then I withdraw. And am immediately flooded with feelings of such Intense Yes that I know I did what I was supposed to do: don't go anywhere yet. But then the money squeeze kicks back in, and on and on. And each time I go through it, I feel a little sicker, and am a little less financially able to move, and I feel a little panicked, and begin to mistrust the Intense Yes, and start the job search back up, and on and on. (I've done this pattern at least 20 times in the past six months.)
- Leads me to a doc, who prescribes some sort of symptom manager med that I have crazy terrible side effects to or that doesn't work at all. I go back for an eval, and they act as if they can't hear me. I mean this literally. I'm pretty sure they believe I'm making it all up. (I've been to nine different health practitioners - four from western med, five from practical but more alternative methods.)
- The latest doc, who I went to see yesterday, said my lab results were perfect, that all levels look exceptional, and she can't find anything wrong or off, nothing, anywhere. I begin to give her more details, tell her that after I exercise, walking or race-walking or dancing or lifting weights, my body goes into a weird sort of all-over spasm, or how the over-eating is in response to feeling like I'm starving to death, and only a Nacho Daddy from Flaming Amy's or the Indian Buffet will keep me alive, how every mouthful is like Say Yes to Life in morsel form, or more about the back pain, how it feels connected to a web of fear inside of me, like negativity from my past is on the move in the fascia, the branches of nerves in my back. (Yeah, I know I should have kept my mouth shut, but I was in ridiculous pain yesterday afternoon - picture a wounded, cornered black she-panther out of her mind in pain.) So she prescribed Cym*balta, which thanks to Dooce, I know gives crazy nightmares, and when I research it, get that ain't the only thing it gives. Plus, I'm pretty sure that all the mood-alterer drugs also contain some sort of biometric tracers so that The Eye can keep track of all the folks who can see through "reality". (And you know I'm only half kidding.)
- In desperation, I took a muscle relaxer, Flex*eril, (from an expired bottle my sis gave me- you would not believe the odd things she gives me that I actually keep for a rainy day) and it took away the pain, but also made me pass out somewhere in the middle of watching Stargate Universe, awaking at midnight to a black screen and a cat on my head and no memory of how I got there. I fumbled to my bed, and woke up this morning more than a little groggy, but that's also because I got a full night's sleep, 10 hours worth, which I haven't in a really long freakin time. (Plus, because I didn't wake up twitchy and in pain, the kitties and I snuggled and purred for a couple of hours in bed, and that was amazing.)
- But I know not to get too excited about the successful med. I've been through this pattern dozens and dozens of times, and chances are really really good that this was a one shot deal, and the pain will be back, and nothing will solve it, until I again spend time and money and energy trying to figure it out on my own, flail, fail, fall down, then go to another doc/practitioner, who prescribes another med, or does another treatment, which works maybe one time, and then stops.
- This is the pattern, the exact pattern, over and over. So, how do I just stop? The pain is excruciating, incredible, mind-blowing, freakin awful.
3. My psychic sensitivity ramps up more each day. But it's so spot on and odd that I'm scrambling to find a way to use it, or simply to know what to do with it, or how to live with it and not be scooped up and sent for a nice long drug fueled vacation at the looney ranch.
- I'm talking to someone and See they get an intense health issue in six years, and See what they need to do to shift it, to stop it from happening, but they've been really clear that they think I'm a total complete nut job and more than a bit of an idiot, so they wouldn't listen anyway. (I'm getting these sort of hardcore hits once a day or more, but what am I supposed to do? Turn the volume down? Check out of the world and the people in it even more?)(And don't even try to tell me that I should tell them, that it's my responsibility to tell them, because I've done this hundreds of times and the only thing it does is make them either terrified of me, or actively hate my freakin guts or both)
- Or a client calls and the source of their issue is from one single pattern of behavior, but because they don't see themselves as that behavior, they are in total denial. But every single "problem" they bring up is directly out of that one behavior, so the whole hour is spent with me repeating the same basic thing over and over, and they hang up really, really pissed off. And then something else happens with them, and they have zero recall of what I said in the session, and they tell me I'm a bad psychic, and then unsubscribe to my mail list. (This is why I spent $350 on various recorders and software so I can now record all sessions. Clients think it's so they can go back and listen to sessions and it'll help, which is totally true and a big part of it, but from my side? It's proof.)
- Or that the Seeing is amping up, and clients aren't calling to book sessions. And I don't know why. At a time when my seeing is getting so clear it freaks me out a little, even as it feels like wealth, like Yes pouring out, only a person here or there is interested. What does this mean?
- I keep thinking about the woman, the spiritual teacher I studied with for over seven years, who taught me how to hone and utilize my psychic skills to help folks. She waited years before really telling me the truth of what was going on, and even then, still didn't tell me all of it, so that when I found out, I was furious with her, so dang mad that she didn't tell me the truth, even when she said she was telling me the whole truth. And I realized how she'd spent years watching me wallow around in utter bullsh*t, spending our time together - weekly sessions and classes with her, thousands of hours - making me feel better. It kept me coming to her, because I felt so bad and she made me feel better. But the "feeling better" was tigerbalm on a bullethole, the bullethole about two inches left of center in my chest. And now I look back and wonder: what if she would have brought the hammer down and just smashed the bullsh*t, really helped me see? She operated out of the belief/fact that seeing the truth of the bullethole would have caused me to run back to the reality of the masses/world that said: bullethole? there is no bullethole. She says she was peeling back The Faux one tiny layer at a time, calling it The Drip Method of Waking Up. And I see that it's my reaction to this experience with her, that my viewpoint of To Tell or Not Tell The Truth, of not just hanging out with clients and making them feel better, but in bringing the hammer down, of pointing to and showing them the bullethole, that means that 95% of all clients I work with never come back. I feel it as they walk out the door: this was just too freakin much, or what a crock of sh*t, and as they walk away it's like I'm watching someone with speed wobbles. But in the moment, when I'm sitting with a client, and I see what's really going on, I tell them, I don't know how to not tell them. And the truth of it is that my teacher is surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of clients who love her and allow her to make money and live. I'm lucky if I see a client and they come back. (I don't feel sorry for myself, poor me for My Truth Speaking and no one is listening, but more frustration, as in serious hardcore frustration at not knowing how to communicate what I see effectively enough so that it's helpful for folks. Or maybe it's not about helping folks, but about me and what I do with this energy I came into this life hardwired with, even if folks don't want it or feel it's useful or needed.)
- And I wonder if I'm not just full of sh*t, if I'm delusional and making sh*t up. But every day, several times a day, I get immediate feedback that what I See is true. I wonder that this only means the law of averages is making itself known. But on what statistician's study would it show up that there's a chance I could correctly "See" a person has liver cancer and won't recover, or shouldn't quit the job they hate because it's burning something out of them and if they switch jobs they'll take the burn with them, or their husband is going to leave them, or how when they get stressed they scream because it's what they used to do up until they were four years old because they are extremely sensitive and screaming channels out the Funk they collect? If what I am is crazy and delusional, how can I know these things, see these things, every day, day after day, week after week for decades?
- And it isn't that I choose to see the "negative". I See what I See. I don't choose what I See. Because if I could choose, I'd love to tell people about the soulmate, the cash, the vibrant health. I so would. I would love to be the person that everybody talked about: she brings The Happy! But I See what I See. When I See it. Sometimes it's so lovely it makes makes my eyes hurt, my heart ache. Sometimes I do See the cash and the soulmate and health. But usually not. Usually I see the "problems". And what will change the "problem" to a "not problem". But the thing folks need to change? It's usually something they love and don't want to let go of. Or are afraid of living without. What does that mean?
- It appears that I watch so many television shows because it's killing time, but most of the shows I watch - Medium, Lie to Me, The Mentalist, the Good Guys, Castle - I watch because it feels like hanging with people who wouldn't think I'm weird. and I think we all need that sometimes: to hang out with people who don't think we're weird.
So, maybe this is interesting, maybe it's not. It's just the same things, every day, week after week. Like Groundhog Day, for the psilocybin set.