Have you ever heard the phrase, "We make plans and God laughs"? I worked hard trying to live a conventional life. My plan was to be a good social worker, a good mother, and a good wife. I knew I wanted to help people, but I felt like a failure at all my jobs. I also had a string of relationships that were short lived. I wanted to find the "one" since I was three years old and these unsuccessful relationships felt like failures.
I was in pain.
I was a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. But, now, in hindsight I know that if I became the good social worker, the good wife, and the good mother, I wouldn't have had the freedom to pursue my life's work as an intuitive healer and reader. I would have fallen short of fulfilling my life's purpose.
And I was so tired of falling short.
I want to share a bit about how I transitioned from life as a “muggle” to a “wizard”.
When I was in high school, I decided to become a Cantor, a Jewish clergy person who chants liturgy during services and works with the Rabbi to help lead the congregation. My spiritual journey began with singing in high school and Judaism. I wanted to continue this journey as my career.
Later, I went to college at the University of Miami to study music and Judaic studies so I could be prepared to apply for Cantorial School. But, almost as soon as I arrived, I found myself drowning in self-doubt. I was a small fish in an infinite ocean.
I was so scared every time I opened my mouth to sing, it affected the quality of my voice. My voice teacher told me that I sounded horrendous at times, which was of course soul crushing.
The beginning of my mental health decline came when my closest friend from high school Rebecca, died during my senior year of college. Rebecca and I called each other soul sisters. We dreamed similar dreams and ached similar aches. We were cut from the same cloth and supported each other through our angsty high school experience. Rebecca also profoundly impacted my life because she introduced me to the spiritual world.
I was always an anxious child, but depression and anxiety now took turns hitting me in tidal waves. I had never experienced anything like these crushing episodes before. I couldn't regulate my emotions without the help of my mom and best friends. I became promiscuous and self-destructive in many other ways. I stopped going to my classes and my grades were so low I almost didn't graduate.
What kept me afloat was my role as a cantorial soloist in college. Singing in temple felt sacred because I was leading others in prayer. My voice was a vehicle in helping congregants feel connected to God. Outside of temple singing became terrifying.
I managed to graduate and was accepted to Hebrew Union College for cantorial school. My behavior became increasingly out of control as I fluctuated from hypomanic to depressed states. I was overwhelmed with the idea of having to hold space for an entire congregation when I felt like a cyclone was spinning within. Singing in temple was no longer the safe and holy place it once was.
I started taking meds and my moods evened out slightly when I was twenty-four, but my mental health obstacles were far from over. I switched gears and decided to move to Washington state to live with my cousin Emily, who is like a sister to me. We moved to Seattle and I earned my Masters in Social Work. After I earned my degree, I worked in child welfare, which triggered massive bouts of mood instability because the work was so emotionally challenging. I continued feeling out of control in my behavior. When I recall some of the things I did and said, I still struggle with feelings of shame.
Emily moved to Boulder, Colorado and I followed her there in 2008. One day, she told me that her daughter’s child care provider could communicate with angels. Even though I considered myself to be spiritual and open minded, I remember almost laughing and judging the woman for being too “woo-woo.” I never would have believed that I would eventually develop the same gifts.
The Dream Changes
When I was about 19 years old, I began having psychic dreams. Some were completely irrelevant, like dreaming that my bike tire was flat and discovering the flat tire the next day. Others were terrifying. I dreamt that Rebecca died, and the dream was so detailed and vivid that I called her the next day to make sure she was alive. As I mentioned above, Rebecca died tragically a year and a half later. Every detail of my dream came true.
Rebecca was the one who introduced me to the metaphysical world. Her younger sister is psychic and was especially connected to the spirit realm when she was a child. Rebecca's mother believed in angels and the family frequently worked with a medium. All of this felt foreign to me at the time, but I was intrigued.
When I graduated college, I returned home to Rochester, New York feeling completely out of control and lost. I met “Jim” (I'm changing his name to protect his family), who claimed to be enlightened. Jim said his mission was to teach women how to become enlightened. We all know how that story ends, right? I was in such a dark, vulnerable place, and I yearned for some sort of spiritual direction. I couldn't allow myself to think that Jim’s motive was to take advantage of me sexually. Thankfully I escaped unscathed.
Once during a meeting with Jim, I saw little sparks of light that would shine for a second and then disappear. For a moment I thought that these sparks were celestial beings. Then I told myself that only enlightened, holy people could see such things.
When I mentioned it to Jim, he told me that something was probably wrong with my eyes, so I scheduled a visit with an ophthalmologist. He said there was nothing physically wrong with my eyes but nevertheless it must have been a result of some sort of benign physical anomaly. I accepted that explanation and eventually the sparks disappeared.
The following paragraph is graphic and disturbing (sexual assault) so please skip it if you are concerned about being triggered:
When I was thirty-four, I worked with adults as a mental health therapist. One of my clients was a war survivor. One day I took a nap and instantly fell into a dream state, but the dream was so lucid it felt real. I was zapped by something that incapacitated me. A group of men threw a blanket over my head, carried me to a house, and gang raped me. One of the assailants was wearing a police uniform. I finally managed to wake myself up. This is the type of dream a trauma survivor would have. I thankfully never experienced such a trauma. A few days later my client told me she was gang raped by soldiers during the war. Everything she described occurred in my dream.
That dream was the catalyst for me to finally acknowledge the fact that it was time to harness my psychic energy. I decided to take the plunge and work with a teacher. I didn't want to continue to dream about trauma and death.
Rebecca’s sister Rachel introduced me to her psychic development teacher, Diane Ronner. She worked with me on healing mental health struggles through self-love and psychic development. I was in psychotherapy for years, but I think my therapist was at her whit’s end because I wasn’t making enough progress. Developing my intuitive abilities was healing because I felt I was connecting to my deepest truth.
The first reading I had with Diane shook me to the core. She proclaimed that I would become a successful Intuitive Healer. I would write a book and give lectures all over the country. A book? Me? I couldn't comprehend that the life I envisioned for myself would be replaced with such a journey. I never considered myself to be very intelligent and writing a book was the furthest thing from my mind. And giving lectures? Absolutely not. So, the next day as I was walking down the stairs, I thought of Diane's outlandish vision, freaked out, missed the second to the last step, and fractured my foot.
I was told by a shamanic healer that in shamanism, all memories, issues, and traumas are stored in the bones and teeth. When you break a bone or tooth it’s an opportunity to reflect on the past to see if emotional healing is necessary. It’s the universe’s way of shocking a person into paying attention and slowing down.
As I write about fracturing my foot, I’m sitting on my couch nursing a broken toe. I see how the shamanistic perspective holds true in my life. After my reading with Diane, I couldn’t recognize my own power. So, the universe forced me to slow down and stop running from it. Last week my guides told me I was about to go through another powerful transformation, in which my dreams would come true. Low and behold that night I fractured my toe, bringing to light that I’m still afraid of my own power.
Even though my reading with Diane was triggering, I felt blessed because I finally discovered my magic. My abilities as a psychic medium exploded. I realized that the sparks I was seeing all those years ago were in fact angels.
One day at work the tiny sparks appeared while I was at my computer listening to music. I knew they were angels, but I asked them to give me a sign by playing Pachabel’s Canon. Moments later Pachabel’s Canon came on. Then I asked the angels to play my favorite song on the radio when I was driving home from work. I turned on the radio and my favorite song was playing.
I began seeing archangels and received signs that the angels were surrounding me on a regular basis.
I started giving readings at psychic fairs and my intuition continued to blossom. It was as if someone opened the flood gates to the intelligence of the universe.
At my last job as a therapist, the angels were floating around my social work clients’ heads.
I had the strongest desire to share this during my sessions, but it would have been grounds for getting fired. When I went to work, I started feeling like I was hiding a very important part of myself. It was soul crushing.
My first official spiritual client was a young woman who was feeling stuck in life. After her initial reading, I realized that if I relayed messages from the angels, utilized my psychic intuition, and drew upon my training as a mental health therapist, I could help her heal at a much faster rate than if I stuck to a traditional therapeutic model.
I believe in the power of psychotherapy, but it’s not the only path to emotional healing. I wanted out of the mental health care system. I prayed to the angels, and asked them to help me work as an intuitive healer full time. But, I didn’t trust that I could support myself working as an intuitive healer alone and was afraid to quit my job.
One morning I saw Archangel Raphael and Chamuel before I got into my car. I asked for a black and white sign as to whether or not I should build a website for my intuitive healing business. I was afraid that if I built a website, the agency I was working for would fire me. I imagined that they wouldn’t want their employee to be known in the community as a psychic.
I sure did get my black and white sign! And it was incredibly painful. The clinical director showed up at my office that day and told me I was suspended without pay because a person in a position of power from another agency complained about me.
At that point it was clear that it was time for me to take the leap and finally step into my power as an intuitive healer.
If I told you that I changed careers without ever looking back, I would be lying. Stepping into authenticity has been deeply rewarding but also incredibly scary at times. But I am privileged enough to be able to fulfill my life’s purpose. My goal now is to help others do the same.