About two weeks ago, my fiancé told me that he thought I would enjoy the podcast Acid for Squares. I don’t remember what his original motivation for showing it to me was, or if he even told me why. But here I am, two weeks later, so deep in the rabbit hole, it’s just going to be quicker to dig all the way through the earth.
I’ve always been more, shall we lovingly say, mentally flexible, than my peers. I’ve always felt “other” or different. Broken in some undefined way that made me the weird one. Made it difficult to make or keep friends, even in kindergarten.
I will admit to eventually cultivating a “weird-art-girl” mystique in high school and privately allowing myself to daydream like my life depended on it. Imagining that I was a long lost princess from a far away place. That someday, someone would come to collect me and teach me how powerful I could be and what wonders I could do with all my power.
Whether by survival instinct or predisposition I have always been sensitive to the emotions of others. I could taste in the air when someone felt very strongly, any emotion. Similar to how one can feel a rainstorm coming.
Over the years I developed a somewhat frantic auto-response to filtering out others emotions. I developed agoraphobia for a while. And my intentional ignorance of people around me (don’t see me, I’m not here, you can’t see me because I can’t see or feel you) became auto programming whenever I was in public or with anyone other than my fiancé.
I spent the better part of my twenties hammering all my oddities back into a lovely little square box I called “normal”. I denied what I could do spiritually. I ignored anything that made me feel different, and I pushed and pushed and conditioned myself to behave, dress, and interact like a “normal” person. Hoping it would somehow heal a childhood of loneliness and a desire for a circle of friends. That it would offer me legitimacy for the “grown up” persona I felt I had to wear to feel good in life, to feel secure and in control.
I’m turning thirty this year. We’ll see how I handle it the day of, but as of now I have no idea why some women are so terrified of their 30th birthday. If anything, I feel like turning thirty is my all-access pass to never giving a fuck about others opinions ever again. Maybe because I earned thirty? I fought to get here. It was hard work to get here but I did it. I’m grateful that I made all the choices I did, and didn’t, because I am who I am because of them.
When I first met my fiancé, almost ten years ago now, he told me he had to tell me something before we ever said “I love you.” He was terrified to tell me, and for days I pondered over nightmarish thoughts of what he could have done or been that was so terrible that he couldn’t be loved by me. My mind assumed that he had been involved in some sort of sexual violence so I was already working through where I drew the line of acceptance but that none of it seemed like it could be a part of him. Imagine then, my relief when he told me, hands shaking, that he was sanguinarian. I took some Latin in high school. Even still, my head cocked to the side and I tried to order the un-orderable. “Like blood? I don’t know what that means?” “The Hollywood word is Vampire, but that’s not what this really is.” “Huh.” And then he went to work for a six hour shift. I sat in my room for five minutes, then packed up my bag and went for a swim at the rec center to clear my head. It didn’t work. On my drive home at a stoplight, I was hit with the most wonderful clarity. There were two options. He was either crazy, but hadn’t hurt anyone so it didn’t feel like a dangerous sort of crazy, or he was telling the truth. And I could either accept this or not. I was already “in” emotionally, so it was just a question of do I believe this, believe him, or not.
I decided I was all in. And that ultimately my belief didn’t matter one bit, because it was HIS truth.
One thought that started me on this path, ten years ago. Shattering the lens that anyone in this world is “normal”. Everyone has the capacity to be extraordinary. By believing in him, I gave myself permission, for the first time, to believe myself.
What follows in this blog will be long entries dedicated to detailing all the little synchronicities of what I have been experiencing since I was a very young child.
My life has not been clean, so I will try to put content warnings, to make this accessible to people, if any of my trauma becomes relevant to what I’m learning now.
I’m doing this as an exercise in telling the truth. I’ve lied to myself for so long that I forgot how stale that taste is. By lying to myself and trying to dismiss my experiences as made up, or symptoms of an illness I do not have, I kept this all at arms length and prevented myself from improving or growing my abilities. Creating a hamster ball of fear so I never bump into something that changes my world irrevocably.
My favorite quote to sum all of this up is from the movie Practical Magic. “…you can't practice witchcraft while you look down your nose at it.”
Stop judging, breathe in, breathe out, and be truthful.
If what you have read so far makes you feel endangered, you can always come back later. Keep yourself safe. If you’re ready for this rollercoaster, it’s a pleasure to have you here. I hope this helps you lean into your weird and make it a superpower too.
So here is to the second of many, many truths to come. And it is this:
I have been in contact with ET’s/gods/other worldly beings since I was a baby.
But I’ll tell you more about that later.
