Do We Hug Or Not?

President Biden declared the Covid Pandemic over and, while folks may or may not agree with him, one thing we have all clearly been seeing is the return of “gatherings.” The NFL, and the rest of major league sports are all back in full swing, along with concerts, family gatherings, barbeques and of course, the WWE. By extension, we’re also seeing people return to hugging as an acceptable and safe greeting. As an empath, I tend to be careful about who and how I hug so for me, Covid has been terrific in that regard. No more awkward “should I hug or not” moments, no feeling pressured to hug strangers because they are friends of friends or worse, enduring unsolicited hugs from folks with whom you’d rather keep your distance. But it wasn’t always that way for me.

Growing up, I was more extroverted, and certainly more fearless. I would often hug everybody, not really understanding the toll it was taking on my energy-body, anxiety levels or even my health. Nowadays I’m a lot more cautious about who and how I hug. Chakra-to-chakra, heart-to-heart? Go in for a long squeeze or just a little “off to the side” pat on the back? For most of us, it depends on the situation; who is the person receiving or giving the hug and what is my energetic relationship with them? It’s not just about a physical connection but also, is their energy “safe” for me to put on like a coat? Are they an angry person, depressed, anxious?

As an empath, it can feel very much like stepping into another person’s clothing, I can feel the emotions and energy that may be churning inside them. Their energy becomes mixed with my own and now I’m left carrying whatever it was that they were stewing over and that’s not good for anyone. The more proximity the more intensely empaths can pick up on the energies of those around them and setting personal boundaries is essential. Before I decide to hug, or allow someone else to hug me, I ask myself, “How do I feel around this person? Is it energetically safe for me to connect with them?”

I recently attended a reunion with beloved friends. We hugged and danced and had a wonderful time and, energetically, it felt very safe, until we sat down to play Cards Against Humanity, the anti-trump version. I am aware that the friend leading the game is about as anti-trump as they come but, the cruelty of the cards was difficult for me to handle. I do understand that’s the point of the game. It’s called Cards Against Humanity for a reason, but the energy evoked from the game left me feeling uncomfortable and drained, even as I delighted in being around some of my dearest friends.

Last week, I attended a gathering of psychics and mediums, people with whom I work. Some I hadn’t seen since before the pandemic; some I’d met only on Zoom and others were completely new to me and, with every greeting the refrain played in my head. Do I hug or not hug? Even taking a case-by-case basis approach, it not hard to get caught up and find yourself hugging everyone, or no one, and the thing I keep coming back to is boundaries.

How often do we feel some sort of obligation to hug or greet others more warmly than we might want to or feel safe to do so? One evening, during our gathering, while waiting to be seated at the hotel restaurant, I addressed a young girl I had seen playing in the pool with her family earlier in the day. I had chatted with them before but not with her, and when I asked how she’d enjoyed swimming, daggers shot back from her eyes as she relocated behind her mother. The adult family members admonished her to not be rude or disrespectful, encouraging her to speak, but to her, I was a total stranger. Why do we teach our children not to talk to strangers and then accuse them of being rude when they do as they’ve been taught?

I smiled and acknowledged that she was one hundred percent right to have her boundaries. It’s confusing enough to be a kid, and encouraging our young people to talk to strangers, especially little girls can open the door to a lifetime of people-pleasing and I was so impressed by this child’s boundaries! She knew she didn’t want, or need, to have my energy enmeshed with hers. How I wish I had that awareness at her young age! I don’t know if she was empathic, but she was certainly wise beyond her years and the example she set has stayed with me.

At another recent professional gathering, a woman I had not seen in several years came rushing up to me. “Oh! I haven’t seen you in forever! I have to hug you!” she fussed, and every fiber in my being screamed “No you don’t!” For a myriad of reasons, not the least of which is she’s someone I barely know, and to whom I have no affinity, other than we work in the same industry. I know from past encounters that her energy is not something I want to engage with but, not wanting to embarrass anyone, I greeted her kindly before continuing the conversation I was already involved in.

As we return to a more “normal” post-Covid life, it feels like there’s an expectation of overly warm greetings, like we’re trying to make up for all the lost time. If you’re an empath, personal and energetic boundaries just became even more essential. Especially in group situations, they can be a life preserver around so don’t toss them aside for the sake of appearance or wanting to fit in.

As we continue to emerge from this time of global pandemic and isolation, some things feel familiar or even the same while others feel uniquely different. It’s essential to take the lessons we’ve learned with us as we resume more communal life. Hold on to the rules and boundaries you set to keep yourself safe, es from Covid, and also energetic contamination. Hug who you want. Hug your loves ones even tighter or don’t hug anyone at all. You’re not obligated to do any of it. No matter who it is, or what the situation may be, if it doesn’t feel right to you, you are 100% free to thrust out your elbow for a bump! Covid has given us the best excuse to keep our distance when we feel uncomfortable. It’s still out there and likely will be for a long time to come so, have at it, blame Covid! It’s your health, both physical and energetic. It’s your response to what’s going on around you, and a global pandemic! As we say in my family, “if you don’t pay my bills, you don’t get a vote” so do what feels right for you because it is your energy and you’re the only one who can decide how best to protect it.

Learn more about Becoming An Empowered Empath at www.sharidworkinsmithlearn.com

Learning A New Language

 

Shalom – Hola – Aloha…  Have you ever tried to talk to someone when you don’t speak the language?

It can be agonizingly frustrating.  We often use hand gestures or speak more loudly, as if somehow this will help.
There can be silence, confusion and even the fear of sending the wrong message, all because we don’t know how to connect.
And then… (hopefully) there comes a breakthrough.  A connection, a sound or smell, perhaps even a few words…

In my life, I know I am blessed for so many reasons.  Not the least of which is, I am not at risk of being murdered if I go out for a run or get stopped by the police.  I’ve also made it to my 50s and, while I have watched many loved ones pass to the world of spirit, gratefully, there have only been a few of whom it could be said, “they left us too soon.”  My grandparents, along with many others in their generation, lived long full lives.  All four danced at my wedding and met my older son, while three of them met both of my boys; their first great grandchildren.  They, and so many others, were a wonderful influence on my life and I am grateful to be part of their legacy.

Among those who left us too soon are two beloved aunts and a dear cousin, all of whom succumbed to cancer, two friends who chose to take their own lives during times of great pain and sadness, and of course, Michael.  My very dear friend who, upon his transition, became intensely involved in my life to ensure I moved onto my current life path.  I am sure there have been others but, this recent loss, the transition of my twin to the world of spirit, has been different from any loss I have ever experienced. 

And I knew connecting with him, if I were able to do it, would also be different from the communication I’ve had with so many others on the other side.  I know he is near, his science mind trying to figure out how it all works, though at times I’d wonder if we’re both simply too close to the dots and can‘t clearly see the full picture (google Georges Seurat’s pointillism paintings and you’ll understand what I mean.)

I am desperate to communicate, to hear from him and know he is okay.  And beyond that, I have so many questions. I ask him to come through to one of the mediums at my development circle, but I know he’s not ready, and perhaps neither am I.  I struggle to heed the advice I share regularly with my own clients and try to be patient as I wait to hear from him but, the silence is almost too much for me to bear.  And then, there is Lindsay… a talented medium, psychotherapist and a dear friend, who’s been keeping an eye on me as I travel this path.  Lindsay understands the pain in my heart and knows how badly I need to hear from him.  One evening over dinner, I share with her that I do want him to come through, just not at our circle, I don’t think I can handle it in such a public place without coming apart.

The next week, after our development circle ended, she quietly told me she’d felt a brief link to him.
“Mention the music, he said, but I already knew about that.” she says.
“Tell me something I don’t know about.”
“Italian restaurant?” she says to me, looking unsure.  “It’s all he said so, I’m not really sure what it means” she admits as a small smile creeps across my face.  Bingo!

The first time he and I met face to face as adults, after more than 30 years apart, he took me to lunch at a little Italian restaurant he liked.  It was a tiny, hole-in-the-wall kind of place, and I can count on one hand the number of people who knew about that, and Lindsay wasn’t one of them.  That was it, that was all she got.  I appreciated her discretion in bringing it to me after the circle had ended because, even as I confirmed the information, tears threatened to escape my eyes.  Thanking her, I gave her a quick hug and dashed for the door.

The following week, the Spiritualist Church (where the development circle is held) was welcoming a guest medium to share messages from spirit during the Sunday service.  I had never been to the Sunday Service.  I just never felt the need.  I’ve always felt strongly connected to my Judaism and enjoy being involved in my synagogue.  I love attending Friday evening Shabbat services (even enjoying the ones currently offered on Zoom) and I find the music to be uplifting and healing so, the Sunday service was never really on my radar.  Plus, I didn’t have a big interest in explaining to my mother why I was going to church.  But this time, I strongly felt I was supposed to be there on Sunday.  I knew my twin was trying to come through.

The service was lovely and before the visiting medium began to give messages, they took a few moments and played Josh Groban’s rendition of You Lift Me Up.  It’s an absolutely gorgeous piece and I can feel myself get lost in the words, every time I hear it. 

As soon as the music started, I felt him standing behind me, his hands placed gently on my shoulders. I melted in to the sensation and said nothing.  When it was over the medium began.  He gave a lovely message to my friend Lisa, from her mother, and another message for a gentleman sitting near me.  I knew I was next.  He turned to look at me and said, “There’s a man in the spirit world, standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders, do you know that?”   I nodded, still feeling the weight of his hands.

It was not a long message but he did share a few pieces of information I felt were significant and, as I noticed the pressure on my shoulders gently slipping away, the medium shifted to the energy or another spirit and my Nana stepped in.  I knew she had come to open the door for him, and I was filled with gratitude and love for them both.

The next month, during a multi-day workshop for more advanced mediums, he came through again to two of the other students, though the information was still a bit general.  Until finally, quite recently, during a seminar working with other skilled mediums from all over the world, he stepped in on four separate occasions, sharing detailed information about his life, our connection, and several key memories!  To me, the evidence shared to identify him as the communicator, was irrefutable and there was not a doubt in my mind, the medium reading for me, was linked to him.  That is (and should) always be the goal for a good medium.

Twins flames are a mirror to each other, reflecting and teaching so both can move forward along their path.  During his time here on Earth, I felt a strong call to share with my twin, all that I was learning, both to pass on the information and also as a means of comprehending and integrating it better for myself.  Now that he is on the other side, I see it differently and can understand how much he was teaching me as well.   

Most importantly for me, he has been able to answer questions which have plagued me for years and helped me to understand our connection in a new way.  I still want more.  I can’t help it.  Like anyone who has lost a person of significance, I’d rather have him here, even though our relationship through spirit is much more harmonious than has been in a very long time. 

He’s worked hard to learn this new way of communication and it has been fascinating to observe his progress during the now six months he has been gone.  I am endlessly grateful for his efforts and I am curious to see what he will do next.  For the moment, he shows me every day he is indeed still with me, and reminds me he always will be.  It is a gift I cannot fully explain.  It is a gift that has finally allowed my heart to begin to heal.

Who Am I?

 

If you’ve been following me at all, you likely know that the man who is my twin flame, recently passed to spirit.
It was unexpected, very fast and left me, and his family, completely devastated.

This loss permeated every part of my being, as if grieving the loss of a life partner, yet both he and I knew that was not our path this time around.  It was almost comical, as much as there was a deep and enduring love between us, we both agreed that had we actually married, it most likely would have ended in divorce.  Better that we had married our be’shert (our meant to be) for this life time.

So, if the twin of your soul isn’t the one you’re meant to spend your life with, who is?
That’s where soulmates come in, for me anyway .  While we have only one twin, there can be many soulmates.

Both relationships can have a feeling of deep knowing or connection, as if you’ve known each other all your lives but, a twin relationship can send those levels through the roof.  Just like biological twins, twin flames can have a kind of telepathy, feeling each other’s feelings and calling to each other on a soul level, circling their lives until they are able to connect through what often seems like a series of coincidences.  My twin and I met in junior high and were friends through high school, though we did not understand our connection at that time.  Years later I learned the crush I’d had was mutual but, a four-year age difference can be a big deal in those years, so nothing ever developed. 

Reconnecting as adults, it was fascinating to see how our lives had followed similar geography, regarding where we lived or worked.  While I was living in LA, he was living in Pasadena.  And, when I moved to Orlando, he had just moved to New Jersey for a job that took him to Orlando on a monthly basis, literally two miles from my home.  We came to find there were many synchronous events, often within a year of each other, one of us seeming to follow the other, as our souls tried again and again to align us.  Yet we never once knew the other was there.  Our humans were not ready.

Twin connections, like soulmates, help us learn and grow, and while we have only one twin, it’s not uncommon to have more than one soulmate during a lifetime.  While both relationships can have that feeling of intense closeness twins generally take it to a whole other level, including seeing what the other is seeing (remote viewing) or feeling what the other is feeling.  Human (identical) twins occur when the egg in their mother’s womb, splits into two.  And so it is with the soul when one chooses to incarnate on Earth.  The soul can split in half and the twins can incarnate together or one may choose to stay behind as a guardian or guide.  In either case, our twin is there to help us move forward on our path.  In human form, this relationship is often too intense to endure unless both twins are “woke” and aware of the situation.  Twins can work it out to be together, but it’s not uncommon for them to be unsuccessful in a long-term relationship.

So it was for us as well.  He was not yet awake, and though he loved the depth of our connection, he grappled with fear as his science-based brain struggled to explain it.  There were times when it was so easy, the perfect blending of two parts to the same whole.  While at other times, even when we were not communicating, the connection could be extremely challenging.  Oftentimes, one of us would open a door to the other and we’d have the most wonderful discussions and energetic connection and then, all too quickly it could be overwhelming and one of us would back away,  “Back away” being more of a euphemism for “blow up in some kind of large disagreement, leading to months of total silence, pain and frustration on both sides…” such is the nature of twins in human form.

And now he’s gone, there will be no more deep discussions and while I’m sure there will be a time for us to communicate again in some way, I’m no longer a person who has their Twin Flame with them on the earth plane.
So, now what?

I love Broadway musicals.  I know this seems like an odd segue but, bare with me for a minute.  

Last year, my husband and I went to see the show Come From Away.  It is an amazing production, and if you get the opportunity to see it, you should definitely go.  It’s the story of what happened when more than 30 planes  landed in the tiny town of Gander, Nova Scotia, stranding more than six thousand people in the immediate aftermath of 9/11.  It is a deeply poignant and humorous look at who we are, and during one of the musical numbers, the actress sang, “Who am I, if I am not who I was yesterday?”

It hit me in the heart like a baseball bat and I struggled for a moment, just to catch my breath.  The show continued as I fumbled in my bag for the small journal that is always there, and in the dark of the theater, I scribbled those words on to the first blank page I found.

Who am I if I’m not who I was yesterday…?  Yesterday, he was alive, my twin flame was here on the earth plane and hope still existed there would be another opportunity for us to meet, face to face.  In the whole of our adult lives, after finally connecting and understanding who we were, after thirty years apart, to finally be able to meet face to face, and have the sum total of that time to be a mere six hours, seems like an unbelievable gyp.

At the same time, I am unbelievably grateful it happened at all.  My heart still aches for this loss though at times I’m grateful the pain and frustration of our “real-life” relationship is over.  I know he is with me and I know we will build a new connection.  And as I continue to work through the process of grief, I ask myself that same question again and again – who am I now, if I’m not who I was yesterday…?

I guess I’m still working on the answer.

You Went Far…

On Friday the 13th, I sat in the sanctuary of our synagogue as Shabbat services began.  I love attending services as the music is very healing and uplifting to me.  I often receive channeled information from Spirit during the service so, I routinely keep a small journal on my lap rather than a siddur (prayer book).  I listen more closely to the readings because I am not looking at their words on a page, and I sing along to the music while my hand follows its own path across the page.  I’m no stranger to automatic writing and am often profoundly moved by the words waiting for me at the end, which I have no memory of writing.  Some days I write more than others but, on this night, I wrote only a single word; live.

My twin was still in the hospital and updates were slow in coming.  I gently pressed his siblings for information and offered prayers of love and support.  I did not want to intrude on his family, but I was desperate for updates, and every day was a lesson in patience and resisting the unending urge to go there.  My desperation would only cause upset and lead to more questions.  I am not family, and they were already dealing with so much during this dreadful waiting game.  I told myself that no news was good news, but I didn’t really believe it. And when we returned to the car after the evening service was over, I turned on my phone to the news that he’d passed, at almost the exact same moment I’d written the word; live…

I don’t remember the drive home, or my husband talking to me.  A singular thought screamed in my head; just keep breathing.

In the days since our time at school, we’d literally met face to face, twice.  When a work trip took me to his town, we spent several hours over two afternoons, catching up and getting to know each other again.  The awkwardness that often accompanies finally spending time with your teenage crush, was intensely present in those first moments of meeting each other face to face, after thirty years apart.  There were a million questions, on both sides.  And, there was pain…

So much had transpired between us; so much love, and so much pain.  Such is the nature of the Twin Flame relationship.

In all, we spent just 6 or 7 hours together discussing the past, our connection, past lives, and why we were, as he would say, binary.  A twin relationship is all or nothing, in or out, binary.

And then, it was over.  He took me back to my hotel and we both went back to our lives.  Never in my wildest dreams did I think that would be all the face time we would ever have. And the reality of his death sent me reeling.

I cried for days.  Sobbing, big ugly cries into my pillow night after night, two weeks before Christmas and two and a half weeks before our birthday.  It’s not unusual for Twins to share a birthday or for them to occur on adjacent days as ours do.

And then I was on a plane, bound for a funeral I knew I had to attend, if only to see him one more time.
I wanted to meet his family, to tell his children, from a woman they’d never see again and likely wouldn’t remember, how special he was and how much he loved them.  The whole agonizing trip was less than 24 hours and I have no idea how I would have kept myself together through any of it, had my friend Kirsten not been by my side.

Until recently, I was a person who knew I had a Twin Flame here on the earth plane.
I knew who he was, and why. And he knew it too. I didn’t think we were done learning from, or helping each other evolve except… he died.

He died, and I’m not ok. There, I said it. I am not ok. And even for all that I know that I know, I still feel lost and alone, to go the rest of the journey of this lifetime without him here.  Though, as a medium, I’m also aware that perhaps he’s more able to help me from the side of spirit. So now I find myself again, in the always agonizing position of having to be patient.

He’s been gone over a month and I’ve not been able to fully connect with him, yet. There have been moments, feelings and confirmation from others who are sensitive to these kinds of energies. But I want more, I want proof he is ok and still here!  And yet I know I’m not ready. I go to my mediumship development circle and pray both for him to come through to one of the other skilled mediums there, while at the same time, praying for him not to come through.

I tell my own clients to wait at least 30 days before coming to see me, to give their grief time to breathe and to give their loved one time to fully transition as well. Except now, that shoe is on the other foot, and the wait is killing me.

 

 

For My Dad – The Stories of Albert

As I write this, the man I’ve identified as Twin, is lying in a hospital fighting for his life.  So, I’m feeling the need to focus on something a bit lighter just now…

When I was getting out of college, my dear friend Jessica (who became my boys’ godmother) wanted to get me a kitten for graduation.  But, since we didn’t know where I was heading after college, she did the next best thing.  She got me all the things I would need so, when I was settled somewhere, I would be ready to get one!  When I landed in Boston for a while, my then-boyfriend took me to go looking for a kitten.  I knew I wanted one named Winston (I’m not really sure why) and after a few tries, we found this gorgeous, fluffy gray and white ball of fur.  I was instantly in love!  But he was not a Winston, he was an Albert.  He did have a brother though, and the folks at the rescue were hoping to keep the two of them together.  His brother was a beautiful grey and white tabby cat, and he was definitely a Winston!  I was in heaven!!  I had not one, but two adorable kittens as I went off to start my new life, working in regional theater!

These are the stories of Albert and Winston, but mostly Albert.  My father loves these stories, and I promised him that someday, I would write them down and share them so, here we are.

I loved those kittens.  They had so much character and kept me company and entertained me for many years.  As a kitten, Winston loved to be held and would regularly climb up the leg of my pants to my waist, to get me to pick him up!  Albert dutifully followed suit and thankfully, they were small.  Living in Maine, I wore a lot of jeans, so they never did too much damage.  Winston also tended to be concerned with my safety and would park himself outside the shower, sitting stock straight with a horrified look on his face.  Always relieved when I emerged unharmed, he’d literally fall over while continuing his vigil to ensure I survived my ordeal in the water.  Very quickly, it became clear to me that Winston was the brains of this furry little operation and Albert, well…  Albert was really pretty…

My apartment in Portland was often referred to as a shotgun apartment, meaning you could shoot a gun through the front door and the bullet would sail right through and come out the back door.  I loved that apartment, even though everything sloped a little downhill toward the kitchen.  My landlord was a very sweet guy with half a dozen kids of his own, so he tended to keep half an eye on me as if I was one of them.  He could often be bribed with a cup of coffee or a couple of cookies and, since the theater where I worked was only three blocks away, he’d usually blow the snow off my car since he knew I wouldn’t because I generally refused to drive in winter if I could help it.

My days were long, and I couldn’t have been happier.  There were dance classes or rehearsal in the morning, then work at the theater and usually a show at night.  When I was at home, I would play with the kittens as much as I could.  They loved bottle caps, like the ones off 2-liter bottles, and I’d sit by my front door and fling them towards the back door.  Winston, being lazier, was usually good for one, maybe two runs, and sometimes he’d even bring the caps back.  Albert, however, would chase the caps over and over.  Being a long-haired cat, Albert had very fuzzy paws with tufts of fur on sticking out from between his pads and, my apartment had wood floors.  So, every time he would start to run after a bottle cap, it would literally take 3 to 4 seconds of his little legs doing their best Road Runner impression, before he’d get enough traction to start moving forward!  While at the other end of the apartment, it never occurred to him that this same issue would make it difficult for him to stop.  Time after time, he’d go sliding right into the back door.  I think I lived in that apartment for about three months before Albert learned how to spin-out so he wouldn’t keep crashing himself into the back door over and over again!

MY favorite Albert game though, was Super Cat!  I never really knew if he loved it or hated it but, when I’d put my hands on his belly and hold him up in the air, he’d put his paws out in front of him like he was flying.  After a minute or so, he’d cover his eyes and then he’d put his paws back out and was flying again.  I always meant to get him a little red cape, but I just never got around to it.

My building was originally three floors with an apartment on each floor and, somewhere along the way, the whole thing was divided in half to create two apartments on each floor.  Although they each had their own thermostat, the furnace was still only capable of providing so much heat.  Since I worked such long days, my apartment was usually cold when I got home and finding snow on the floor by the windows was not unusual at all.  The good part of this was snugly kittens!  Most days I’d wake up with Winston asleep on my pillow and Albert sleeping under the covers, down by my feet!  How he could breathe down there is beyond me but, it was truly his favorite spot and more than once I wondered if sleeping down there was depriving his brain of oxygen.  Yet on cold nights, there he was, waiting for me to get into bed and lift the covers so he could run right in.  He was such a beautiful cat but, smart he was not.

The top of my refrigerator was another favorite spot for Albert.  It was an easy jump from the stove to get there and thankfully, I didn’t have much time to cook so it was rarely on.  Albert liked to sit with his paws hanging off the front of things; tables, counters, my bed, and the top of the refrigerator.  I didn’t think that much of it until one morning, after grabbing some coffee out of the freezer, I turned around to see Albert frantically trying to remove the tufts of fur under his paws from the seal of the freezer door!  I had seen him lying there, with his paws hanging over the frond of the freezer but I really, REALLY thought he’d move them when he saw the freezer door about to shut on them… Guess not.

Albert also had an unusual affinity for water and I’d routinely come home to find him asleep in the bathroom sink while the faucet dripped on him, creating a puddle in a corner of the sink.  He would even climb into the bathtub with me.  He would do it so often, I started keeping cat toys in the tub because he liked to play with them, usually trying to grab them with his mouth before remembering he couldn’t breathe under water!  He’d come up spluttering and sneezing but undeterred and would continue to play with the toys until the water had long been drained from the tub.

All these things quickly taught me that I’d need to keep a closer eye on Albert than Winston.  One Spring afternoon, I was enjoying watching both kittens, transfixed by the arrival of birds in the trees, one sitting on the sill of each window in my living room/bedroom.  After a bit, I went into the kitchen to do the dishes and naturally, Albert came along a few minutes later.  I had been burning scented candle in the small space between the sink and the kitchen window so, when Albert jumped up to check out the view of the birds from this new vantage point, I figured I better move the candle before he set himself on fire.

You know how sometimes things seem to happen in slow motion?  I barely had time to register the thought when Albert’s tail, forgotten as he focused on the birds, began to droop, right into the flame and his super fluffy tail went right up in flames!  I grabbed the nearest dish towel and started to swat his tail to put out the fire and, I kid you not, he started to chase the damn towel so I couldn’t get it on to his ass!  I finally grabbed him, plopped him into the sink and hit him with the sprayer.  I swear to you, he never had any idea what the hell had happened!  But, for the safety of everyone, I decided that would be the end of my relationship with scented candles for the foreseeable future.

Everything I’ve shared here is true, not even the names have been changed to protect the innocent.  Winston lived a great life and became a big fat cat, passing in his sleep after almost 12 wonderful years with us.  Sadly, Albert developed kidney problems and left us shortly after Eli was born.  He will always be my Super Cat!!

Daddy, here are The Albert Stories, I hope you like them.

Healing the shattered

Spiritual Awakening rarely happens gently.  Unless you’ve been raised by spiritually awake people and have “woke” as long as you can remember, it’s much more common for spiritual awakening to feel more like being hit in the head with a two by four.  Something happens that completely shifts your perception of reality and you realize things will never be the same.

For me, it was when Michael died.  Not only did he start connecting with me from the “other side,” he also began manipulating things in my world as well.  For one, he enhanced the communication between Twin (Him) and I so our connection deepened much faster than it would have, had it been allowed to develop more naturally.  But Michael had an agenda, and needed me to wake up fast, so I’d be able to help him connect and share his message with his husband.

In all honesty, I loved this time in my life.  It was new and exciting, interesting and dynamic and, I was hungry to learn anything I could get my hands on.  It was one of the happiest times in my life, and then, in what felt like a mushroom cloud, it exploded, leaving shattered pieces of ‘me’ all over the ground.  Feeling completely clueless on how to process the pain now residing in my heart, or how to begin healing it, I was the perfect target for the energy vampire.

For years afterwards, I wondered how he even knew to reach out to me at that particular moment, when I was just starting to heal from the trauma of my separation from Twin.  And then it finally dawned on me, that because we were “friends” on Facebook, and in some of the same metaphysical type groups, he could see whenever I shared a post or asked a question in one of them.  I had no idea he was even there, lurking in the groups, trolling for vulnerable targets.  What a treat it must have been for him, to watch someone he already knew, reveal herself to be the perfect target.

Empaths like me can be ideal and easy prey for an energy vampire.  Especially if you’re already broken or overwhelmed, they can swoop in as a caring friend and earn trust more quickly than normal.  Empaths can feel the connection to that person and the desire to lean into it can be very compelling.

Having no understanding of the real dynamic between empaths and energy vampires, I couldn’t see that the whole relationship was one giant manipulation to feed his appetite for other people’s energy.   Energy vampires are a lot like drug addicts, always looking for that next score, that next high.  Except, instead of cocaine or heroin, they feed off creating uncertainty and imbalance in the energy of others.   The more uneasy they can make you feel, the easier you are to manipulate or control.  And, the more you bend to their will, the bigger the high for them.  I thought he was a friend; I had no idea what was going on until it was far too late.  By then it was over and he too, had gone in an instant with no explanation or discussion.

I struggled to understand what happened and was left feeling even more shattered than I’d been before he came.  The pieces of me seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time and, it didn’t even register to me that I was supposed to be picking them up.  I continued to tumble back into the darkness I knew so well.  I had no clue how to put myself back together.  I knew I was falling into a much deeper despair than I’d ever before experienced.  The depression was intense, and the self-recrimination was worse.  I felt useless, and stupid for letting this happen, for letting someone get close to me again.  I felt worthless, and clearly unwanted, as now two people I cared about, people I trusted, both chose to disappear without a word.

When you’re down that deep in the darkness, it can feel impossible to remember the light, let alone muster the strength to reach for it.  I was caught between the pull of the pain, the desire to give up and leave this life, and a distant rumble, saying that somehow, I needed to stay; especially for my boys.  I did not want a choice I made to exit this lifetime, to become their story and derail them from their paths.  For months, I teetered on the edge of two worlds until finally, I prayed for a lifeline.  And when it arrived, I thought, “you have got to be kidding me.”  A person I hardly knew, who barely even knew I existed, and who sure as hell didn’t believe in any of the things I held to be true.  This was the lifeline?  This was the person to help me??

I was doomed.  We both were.

Or maybe, just maybe…. we weren’t.

 

photo credit: Jilbert Ebrahimi

 

Is it in your DNA?

I don’t know what possessed me but, one day I woke up with a major need to get my hands on some Tarot cards.  I don’t think I’d ever even seen a deck up close and yet I felt like I needed to have one, now. Not really knowing where to go, I decided to start with the Barnes & Noble down the hill from my house.  It seemed as good a place to start as any other and oddly enough, they had some. It seemed odd to me anyway, that such a commercial place would have metaphysical anything.  And, it gave me a giggle that they even had two different kinds of Tarot decks. Whatever this sudden urge to own Tarot cards was about, one of the available options seemed to suitably quell the need.  The cards felt good in my hands and, strangely familiar.

I took them home to begin studying. I opened the cards, touching and examining each one, and felt like I’d done this a thousand times before.  I read the guidebook from cover to cover, with the same thought continuing to echo in my head… “You already know all of this, trust yourself.”  It felt more like I was remembering something long forgotten, rather than learning something new.  Then I understood.  I actually had done all of this before!  But when?

Perhaps “when” wasn’t the right question. At least not as it pertained to this lifetime.  Was there a life where I used Tarot cards?  Who, where, when? And more importantly, can you really “remember” in this life, knowledge gained in other lifetimes?

Most, if not all regression therapists (or psychiatrists who use regression therapy) would say, absolutely!

So, I enrolled in the first tarot class I could find, to continue testing this theory. Taking that class felt like coming home after being in another country for a while, where you don’t speak the language. I fell in love with the instructor and, found I understood Tarot perfectly.  I could speak fluently and lost myself in the language of the cards.  I heard them speak to me as if we’d been having a conversation. I couldn’t explain it; I just knew what they were saying.

I remained captivated by the idea that this was all familiar to me because I’d done it before, in another lifetime. So, I decided to spend some time in a regression meditation looking for information on who I was, when I was a person who regularly used Tarot cards.  It was a truly fascinating glimpse at myself, both positive and negative.  I’d met Minerva before, in another past life regression I’d done a few years earlier. She was beautiful and kind and seemed to help the people who came to her so, everyone thought she was good.  She wasn’t.  She was a witch who used her beauty and power for manipulation and control.  This wasn’t such good news for me, though we all have lives where we’ve been less than stellar people, trust me.

I asked her to tell me about Tarot cards and she pointed to some shelves on one wall of her small house.  There were many items I recognized.  There were runes and bones and gazing balls, nestled among many other things which I could not name.  There were also several wooden boxes, some plain, some more ornate.  She took one of them down and handed it to me. It was filled with a large stack of cards. Well worn, with tattered corners and the curvature that comes from use meant they could no longer lay straight in their pile.  Covered with hand drawn images, these were the cards she used if she deemed the person to be “good.”

Then she handed me another box.  It was delicately carved with painted accents and it held the cards she used if she decided a person was “bad,” evil or power hungry in some way. They were more finely drawn, and I watched in fascination as she casually flipped through them, sharing her secrets.  In the end, she was condemned as a witch and hanged. She went to her death with zero remorse for the things she had done.  And, even though I knew we were different people, I could still somehow see myself in her.

It was an enlightening experience.  Meeting another part of your own self always is. And now, I certainly had a better understanding of the cards and why they felt so familiar to me.  I make sure to bless mine with light and love and to only use them for the highest good.  I’ve used them hundreds of times through the years and it never ceases to amaze me, the cards are always right.  Even when they say things we don’t want to hear, they’re still right.

These days I generally prefer working with Oracle cards over Tarot cards.  The information they share tends to be more easily understood by most people and that’s important to me in the work I do.  They too, felt oddly familiar when I began using them.  Perhaps there’s a lifetime of memories in there for me as well…

Tags:

#Intuitiveempath

#spiritguides

#lightworker

#pastliferegressions

#pastlives

#metaphysical

#tarotcardreader

#oraclecards

#oraclecardreader

#tarotcards

The Gatekeeper

 

 

Someone in the class asked if I was a Medium.  I remember it so clearly, I laughed and said, “Me, no! I can’t do that!”

It’s really important to be careful with your words…

Almost from the moment I opened my mind to it, the voices started arriving.  At first it was one, then two more, then five or six, until very quickly, I felt like I was surrounded.

Years ago, my husband was touring with Metallica as the Lighting Director and, when the tour came to LA they played at the Colosseum.  It’s Big.  I went to see the show of course, and watched from up in the “condo;” a scaffolding tower in the middle of the field where the sound, lighting and follow-spot folks worked during the show.  From my vantage point, more than ten feet above the ground, I saw mosh pits form and disband and heard the waves of noise from the crowd as Ninety Thousand people stood, waiting for the show to start.  We were smack in the middle of it all and, I could feel the vibrations in the air from all those people.

When my mediumship doors opened it felt just like that, with one big difference.  At the Metallica show, I was above the crowd and now it felt like the crowd was above me, in front of me, beside me and all around me.  I couldn’t escape the rolling waves of voices, as each struggled to be heard above the others.   I was overwhelmed by the sound, the emotions and the crush of so much energy pressing in on me from every direction.

The ensuing headache was relentless.  There seemed to be little I could do to make it stop.  Regular pain remedies offered no help, I just couldn’t seem to turn the volume down on the white noise in my head.  By the time this had gone on for two full days, I was at the end of my rope.  If this was what it was going to be like, I was not interested!  Finally, I gave up trying to do anything and went to lay down. I tried (again) to meditate, to focus on my breath, but nothing seemed to help.

“What do you want from me?” I asked out loud (again) as tears ran down my face (again).
“How am I supposed to do this?”  “I CAN’T do this and I WANT my life back!”  I yelled to no one in particular, as I flopped back onto my pillow (again).

And then, she came.  My Grandma’s sister, Aunt Dora.  Both very tiny women and the closest of sisters, during her life, Dora had always been a favorite of mine, and a trusted confidante.  When we moved to LA, one of the biggest blessings was more time with that part of my family, and we took every opportunity to go see her.  She always listened, never judged and loved our family intensely.  At the end of every visit, she would say kenahora (a Yiddish slang expression to ward off bad luck or evil spirits) and kiss us on the head, superstition keeping her from kissing our faces.  In her passing, she visited me often and years later, finally admitted she had chosen to stay near me as one of my guides.

Now I was watching her walk toward me as I’d done a hundred times before, always wearing the little flower painted Keds she loved so much.  She took my cheeks in her velvety soft hands and kissed me on the forehead, just as she’d always done before. She walked to the center of my room and, out of nowhere, produced a deli-counter “Take A Number” machine on a stand and slammed it down onto the floor!

And then, the woman I’d known my whole life to be made of “sugar and spice and everything nice,” became formidable as hell as she announced in a booming voice, “I AM THE GATE KEEPER!  TAKE A NUMBER AND SHE’LL GET TO YOU WHEN IT’S YOUR TIME!!”

Jaw on the floor, I watched as people from every walk of life and every time in our history, formed a line, took a number and disappeared. As they went, the pounding in my head finally began to subside.  She took my face in her hands again and said, “Your life will never be the same but, you will learn to protect yourself.”

As sleep came for the first time in several days, she kissed my head again and said, “You can do this.  I will be there to help.”

 

*my Grandma Helen is on the left and my Aunt Dora is on the right

Spiral Into Darkness

He left!  He just fucking left!!
What is it with people?!
I’d never experienced this kind of behavior before and now, TWO people had turned on a dime and walked out of my life, without a word.  And, any effort to try and fix the situation was met with more silence or outright anger. What the fuck!?

Because empaths have the ability to let people come so far inside of us, we feel emotions much more intensely.  Empaths do not handle betrayal well at all and I could feel myself being pulled back into darkness.

A blinding rage I hadn’t felt since fighting with BofA, took over my heart and twisted my insides into knots. I had allowed this to happen!  I brought it on myself!

I had trusted him and thought we were friends.  But, because he came to me when I was already broken, I hadn’t seen the hidden agenda.  I couldn’t understand his ulterior motives and I certainly didn’t understand the higher purpose of our connection.

What I could understand though, was that something had shifted in me.  Even from a place of such deep dark sadness and despair, I could feel it.  There was more going on than just the voices in my head.

Looking back, I understand that the Vampire came into my life to stir the pot.  He’d come to stir the soup of my soul and finish the awakening process that started with

Michael, and with Him; the twin flame.
It was all part of the process…

Michael died and called on me to re-open the doors to my metaphysical abilities.
Twin came and the voices returned.  The knowing returned, but I still couldn’t understand the information.  And then He left, ripping my heart wide open in the process.
Vampire came and helped heal my heart.  But, then he left as well, ripping my heart open even wider than before.

How could I ever let anyone to get close to me again?
How could I trust they wouldn’t hurt me, or leave without a word?
Questions swirled in my mind, mixing with the pain in my heart, as I questioned everything I thought I knew about myself.  I was judge and jury and I judged myself HARD.

Maybe they left because I wasn’t good enough…
Twin is literally a genius, like off the charts…
Maybe He left because I wasn’t smart enough…
Vampire is an extrovert.  Did he leave because I wasn’t extroverted enough…

In truth, I knew he left because I’d refused his advances and offer of an affair but, the darkness has a way of twisting what we know to be true so the questions continued…

Others had come in and out of my life, past boyfriends, girl friends, friend-friends…

Had they left because I wasn’t enough somehow?

Clearly, I was not enough…

I am not enough…

This refrain is like Kudzu of the mind.  Given a single place to land, it will take hold, blocking the light, choking out anything else and unfurling roots that can last for lifetimes.

It was all part of the process for my awakening.  It had to happen; my dark night of the soul…

The pain in my heart, the confusion, despair and absolute belief that I could never be enough, for anyone, brought me to my knees, and back under my bed.

Thankfully, it was a teeny, tiny bit different this time.  There was a voice in my head, so soft I could barely hear.  It said, “We are here, trust us…”  I didn’t know who was talking to me, or if it was even real but the truth was, there was just no more fight left in me.  The knot at the end of the rope had frayed and there was simply nothing more to hold on to.  When you come to the very bottom of your own dark pit of hell, when you’ve run out of strength, and you’re gasping for breath, you reach that moment of complete surrender and Just  Let  Go…

That is when The Universe really gets to work.

Information flooded my mind.

IT WAS ME!  I WAS THE ONE WHO RAN!  I WAS THE RUNNER!
EVERY RELATIONSHIP THAT ENDED WAS BECAUSE I ENDED IT!
Me…, who hates saying good-bye, who doesn’t let people go easily…  It was all me.

I HAVE BEEN RUNNING MY WHOLE LIFE…

BAM!!

There is was, the knockout punch my Guides had been waiting to deliver.  The realization that, everything that had happened in my life up to that point, had happened because I created it.

We create our own reality by the choices we make and, I had created this.  It was the bitterest of pills to swallow and it changed everything I thought I knew about myself.

I cried for days.  Sometimes gentle tears but more often, openly sobbing big, ugly-cry tears.

I am a runner…  I was so angry at myself!  I felt betrayed, hurt and completely worthless.
I felt empty.

I always thought of myself as a good person.  I give to charity.  I keep snacks and blankets in my car for the homeless.  I’ve been an egg-donor, twice.  I help where I can and I love making people feel better!  But, the darkness is deception, echoing the same refrain… You are not enough…

When I could see through the tears, I wrote in my journal.  I wrote and wrote and wrote, pouring all of myself out onto the pages.  I wrote until there was nothing more to say.
I was a runner.  I’d been a runner all my life.
Was it even possible to change directions now?

The choice was mine to make.
Would I stay a runner or, could I fight the battles it would take to change?

I heard him, like a chorus of angels in my ear.  “You can do it, I’ll help you Mama.”

And, for the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe.

Somehow, I had to survive this; I had to find some new level of being ok.

Once you identify the enemy though, you’d best be prepared to confront it.

I would fight my Runner Monster.

But, how do you fight something you don’t really understand?

The Vampire Returns…

For two weeks I waited…

He’d texted me a few times but the new theme continued; sexual conquest and the “plans” he had for me upon his return…

sigh… it wasn’t supposed to be like this…  I just wanted to talk to the boy…
Unfortunately, the only way I knew how to do that was through him… the Energy Vampire.

Crap.

The soul of the boy had stayed with me for almost a decade, waiting for me to re-open the metaphysical doors on my life.  But WHY??  I had a thousand questions, I just wasn’t sure how many hoops was I going to have to jump through to get to the answers.

In reality, the bigger issue was that all of this was happening while I was still reeling from my father’s stroke, and the disastrous end of my relationship with Him.  Any extra energy I was able to muster, I was using to support my mom as she dealt with her new reality.

My dad had always been larger than life to me.  He was a doctor, an educator and even a National Champion weightlifter.  He threw knives, did martial arts and knew exactly how to kick your ass before you’d even know what happened.

Now, he was in the stroke ward of the hospital and his time was filled with exercises and therapies which left him exhausted and frustrated by the day’s end. But, we filled his evenings with take-out food from favorite restaurants and visits with the boys.  We’d have dinner and the “rotten teenagers,” otherwise known as my sons, would provide him with endless amounts of sass and snark.  Sarcasm and teasing is the love language of my family and, while my father excelled in expressing his love, my boys, determined not to treat him like an invalid, were only too happy to show they’d inherited his  expertise..

When he finally was able to go home, I would go over and hang out so my mom could get a break. She worried about leaving him in the house alone and, it was good for her to get out for a bit as well.   Growing up, my dad and I were always close and I loved having the extra time with him.  I’d bring over work or something to read but, we’d always end up talking about stuff or working on his exercises.  His body had been wracked by this stroke but there was not a thing wrong with his mind and, he was just as sharp as ever.  Thank God!

I will say that I’ve never laughed so hard in my life as watching my “I-can-handle-it” father, FROM HIS WALKER in the middle of the living room, swinging a broomstick while trying to kill a giant spider that was hanging out at the top of their Fourteen Foot walls!!

My mom had just gotten back and I was getting ready to leave when I saw this behemoth parked about the front door. Let me be very clear, I DON’T do spiders but I felt guilty about sneaking out and leaving my mom to deal with it herself so, I stayed to “help.”  Not big on spiders herself, her expert advice was for me to POKE IT with the broomstick!  Yeah, ok sure….
By the time it was all over, we’d coated the room in toxic chemicals, drowned the thing with half a can of bug spray  and beaten it into a pancake!

As much as I worried about my dad, it was really more my mom who concerned me.  She insisted on doing pretty much everything herself and, as an empath, I could feel the fear, stress and frustration overwhelming her.  I knew I could help people feel better by absorbing their negative energies and emotions into my own so, any time I was around my mom, I would absorb as much from her as I possibly could.  Other than dad-sitting, it was something I could do to help because, I promise you I was ZERO help in the spider killing department!

I knew how to absorb her fear, anxiety, etc. but, I hadn’t yet learned how to release the things I’d picked up, or even better, how to let them pass through me back to the earth.  So, in the process of helping my mom, I was making myself sick.  I was already so emotionally depleted, this just made it worse.  I wasn’t really sleeping or eating and had lost more than 12 pounds during the two weeks my dad had been in the hospital.  It was the perfect set up for the Vampire’s return because an emotionally depleted empath is easy to manipulate and control.  The easier the target can be manipulated, the bigger the high for the vampire.

Energetic, or emotional, vampires are like parasites.  They manipulate and control in order to evoke an emotional reaction and then they “feed off” the energy of those emotions.  It’s like a high for them.  Empaths and highly sensitive people are often targeted by vampires because they feel emotions so strongly.  Over time, these interactions can leave an empath emotionally and physically depleted, and unable to function. 

He’d already been manipulating me through the cord (think energetic tether) he’d attached to the thumb ring I wore and, I often saw images in my mind or felt his presence, even though he was an ocean away.  I was able to describe his room on the ship, I knew when he was awake, at sea or on land but in reality, our whole friendship had been one big manipulation.  Every time I replied to a message or agreed to meet, it just strengthened the connection and gave him not only the rush he craved, but also more power to manipulate.   I didn’t understand, I had never been targeted by an energy vampire.  Though I was familiar with the term, I had little understanding that this was the game we were playing.  I just knew I needed him to connect with the boy.

He arrived back in Orlando on a Sunday evening and was due back at work on Monday so I had no expectation of hearing from him until he was over the jet lag.  Maybe it had all been a joke tied to vacation?  Like, “hey, I took a shot..?”  I was hopeful I could redirect his focus back to our friendship.  Either way, in order to connect with the boy, I was going to have to see him.  To be honest, I was looking forward to seeing him.  I enjoyed his company.  I liked our talks, he challenged me, made me think about what I believed and I always came away with a desire for more.  It was a textbook vampire play, I just didn’t know it.

As a newly awakened empath, I was devouring anything I could get my hands on, books,  websites, blogs, you name it.  I felt like a starving person, consuming information as fast as I could digest it.  Somehow, I missed the part about energy vampires and how they prey on empaths…  But the truth is, everything that happens to us has a higher purpose in helping us learn the lessons we came here for.  (Sure, I know that now…)

By Wednesday he texted and asked to meet.  He asked what I was doing that day and what time my boys left for school, and the next thing I knew he was on my doorstep with coffee and a bottle of vodka.  He knew I wouldn’t drink before connecting with the boy, and certainly not at 8 in the morning!  He claimed he brought it in case the energy got to be too much.  Alcohol quieted the voices and dulled my ability to pick up on other people’s energies and, vodka was my drink of choice.  I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or frightened that he remembered.

We sat on the couch for a while and he told me about his trip.  For someone who’d never before traveled internationally, he seemed remarkably unimpressed with all he’d seen and done.  This made me sad, though I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why.

“Please, can I connect with the boy now?” I asked and he nodded.

My heart thundered in my chest.  What if it didn’t work?  What if I couldn’t do it and I’d waited all this time for nothing?  It was now or never so, I took a breath and placed my hand on his heart.  It couldn’t have been more than a minute before I felt a warmth come over me, like someone had wrapped me in a blanket.  He was there, I could see him!  The same little toe-headed boy I’d seen before!

“Are you my son?  The child I couldn’t carry?”  I couldn’t bring myself to say the word abortion to him but, he just smiled at me and gave a single nod.

And then the question that had haunted me for years…  “Can you please forgive me?”

He smiled again and my heart broke for this sweet child I never knew.  It was never that I didn’t want him.  Quite the opposite!  We had always talked about having three boys but, the risks for me, in carrying another child, were significant and I wasn’t willing to take them.  I felt I needed to protect the children who were already with me more than the one who was not.  Yet here he was, looking just like any other child and so much like Eli did when he was a toddler!

Tears poured down my cheeks and I cried for a long time.  Interestingly, both the boy and the vampire seemed willing to give me as much time as I needed…  I the boy I loved him and how sorry I was that I wasn’t able to meet him in person and be his mother.  As long as I live, I will never forget what happened next.  He brought his little face right up to mine, his button nose pressed against my own, and he said, “That’s ok Mommy, I wasn’t meant to be your human baby this time anyway.  I just came to help you but you can still be my mommy if you want.”

I had no words…  I’m not even sure I had the capacity to breathe but he waited….

“Help me with what?”

“You’ll see!  You can do a lot more than just connect with guides.  You just don’t remember yet but you will.  I will help you, don’t worry!”  And then, he was gone.

I couldn’t move for a long time.  The tears fell and I remember mumbling something like “I’m so sorry, please forgive me…”  until finally, I was able to move away.  I sat on the floor and tried to pull myself together.

To his credit, or perhaps because he really didn’t care, the vampire asked me nothing about what I’d seen and I wasn’t ready to share.  Eventually we returned to more banal conversation and I finally got up and went to the kitchen for more coffee.  He followed and, when I turned around to ask him something, he was there, right behind me.  He pulled me into his arms and kissed me, hard.  It actually wasn’t the first time he’d kissed me.  Years earlier, at a party, some drunken asshole made a pass at me and, in an effort to help the man save face before I decked him, the vampire stepped in.  Declaring something to the effect of “not like that, like this…” he pulled the man off me and kissed me.  It was not about passion, it was thankfully pretty benign, especially because his wife, and my friend, was sitting right behind him!  He laughed it off, trying to defuse the situation and I thanked him for his chivalry, mostly because the drunk asshole was related our friends who were hosting the party and I didn’t want to make a scene…
That guy was lucky #metoo wasn’t yet a thing!

This… was NOT that.  He was not kissing me as part of a rescue, this was all about power and conquest.  He was a strong man and his always-intense energy completely overwhelmed me.
Arms pinned to my sides, he held me tight.  I knew he wasn’t going to hurt me but, I couldn’t pull away either, so I waited.  It ridiculous and stupid but, I knew he was recently divorced and I thought he was my friend.  I didn’t want to hurt him or make him angry.  Typical empath…

When he released me, I looked deep into his eyes and told him how much I appreciated his friendship and how he’d tried so hard to help me heal the hole that had been left in my heart.
I thanked him profusely for helping me reconcile with my son but I couldn’t give him what he wanted.  I was not interested in an affair though I hoped we could continue working together.
With that, I’d committed a cardinal sin.  I’d denied him what he asked for and refused to bend to his will…  Energy vampires are only interested in manipulating what’s easy.  If you’re going to think for yourself and not fall victim to the power of their suggestion, they’re out.

We never spoke again and any attempts to contact him or communicate in any way, were met with either silence or open hostility.  For the second time in my life, I watched someone I trusted and cared for, turn walk away without a single word.

The rejection was complete, the silence deafening, and I was powerless to stop the hole in my heart, as it ripped open all over again.