SPIRITUAL MEDIUM & REIKI ENERGY HEALER

Heather

As years went by, I asked for the stories less. Yet my affinity for them never went away.

My first tattoo at 17 was a butterfly.
My AOL screen name was in part, “butterfly.”
My license plate on my first car; my VW Beetle – “Farfalla.”
The list goes on and on.

Shortly before I entered my twenties, I lost my grandfather and my mother a year apart - to the day. I still am in awe of the timing, and how I happened to be present for each of their passings, but I understand now that these were the first of many divine lessons for me in my spiritual growth. Until then, I hadn’t lost anyone that close to me before. I had experienced a level of depression in childhood, yet never known grief; the way it would creep in and out. The way it sunk to the depths of my being, weighing down on me so heavily I was rendered useless for weeks, if not months at a time. How it led me to push everyone away and question everything I ever knew.

And then I started receiving my own signs. Little “odd” happenings. Butterflies, lights shining without reason or explanation. Significant songs popping on the radio or from my iPod on shuffle that I’d never regularly hear. Seeing their faces or hearing their laughs in strangers passing by. From there, it grew. I began to notice that I could feel them. I began having moments when I could hear them perfectly clear. And the dreams. Ohhh, the sweetest visitations. I had all these beautiful signs from Heaven giving me momentary comfort, yet I still couldn’t grasp how much bigger this really was. I couldn’t see past my grief, and I couldn’t even begin to understand what life could ever look like in their absence.

On a bit of a whim, my sister invited me to join her in an appointment with a local Medium one night. Unsure of what to expect, I knew I had to go. That night is where it all changed for me. The first thing she shared with us was that there was a female spirit sitting between us on the couch, with long dark hair. Our mom. The peace I felt that night, well over 10 years ago - I still cannot put into words. The only other word that comes to mind from that night was that it all felt “familiar.” There was a connection I felt to the Medium and what she did, and the impression she left was never lost. I felt my soul begin shifting that night.

I returned to her office years later when I was at my lowest asking for help. I wanted to feel divine connection again, and I still to this day have full faith in that I was lead back to her that day to crack me open so I could start to heal. I’m not even sure how I remembered her website, but I did. And I showed up. I was aching to remember who I was underneath all the heavy sadness I’d been carrying since losing everyone, and everything. I recognized that my soul started to remember something when I’d first met her that night. And I just knew I needed to find out more about what that was.

Together, she and I uncovered layers upon layers of scars that needed tending to. I had more than just the grief to move through. Most notably, she helped me identify that some of my anxieties – those mysterious thoughts, voices, and feelings I felt weren’t all mine. I was sensitive to other people’s energy, as well as Spirit. Week by week, I hit highs, and I hit lows, yet I never stopped going. I slowly began to understand myself more than I’d ever known possible, because she taught me how to look inside.

As a child, people could see I was struggling yet I wasn’t able to properly identify my feelings. All I knew at the time was that things upset me. I’d feel nauseatingly shy. I’d feel uncomfortable in “normal” situations. I could walk into a room where someone had been arguing and I’d instantly become angry, therefore susceptible to major mood swings. I would sleep entire days away if left alone. I didn’t know "what was bothering me." All I knew was to say that I didn’t “feel good.” “My stomach hurt.” Or that I didn’t want to go to school.

When I wasn't being labeled as a hypochondriac, I was being analyzed by teachers and staff, and (mis)diagnosed by professionals for 12 years, starting at age seven. And I started to believe them, because that’s what they told me I was. I was “sick,” “different,” and I was “not okay.”

I cried. A lot.
I slept. A lot.
I felt. A lot.

And had it not been for God’s bigger plan, I’m not sure when I would have found my way back to myself in the capacity that I had without her support. I was carrying a very sad and frightened little girl in my heart for far too long, in a dance between forgetting she was there, and hoping someone would save her - not yet realizing that I was the only one who could.

My healer didn’t heal me, nor did she do the work for me. She offered me spiritual tools to help me begin to see myself in light, as opposed to darkness. She taught me how to work with energy and call upon angels. She held sacred space and helped me cast light on my shadows so I could start to find what had been tucked away, silenced and forgotten. But I had to choose, day after day, to allow the hurt to leave. To no longer identify as my past and fleeting “feelings”. I had to forgive. Ohhh, I had to forgive. I had to love. I had to believe again. I had to remember.

Because that girl who was shamed her sensitivities, who carried emotional wounds no one knew how to tend to; She’s the same little girl who always knew deep down that God was everywhere. That angels exist. And that butterflies were hellos from heaven.

I had been fascinated with my grandmother's stories about butterflies since a very young age. Any little thing would prompt me to ask her to tell them again. I’m not exactly sure which part of it all I loved so much, but any chance I had to hear them again I took. Perhaps it was a bit of childhood wonderment; hearing her recall all of the times they’d appear at significant and often unbelievable times. Times where she and others needed to believe that there was more than just “here,” and Spirit would send them each little signs with sweet, delicate wings. I could feel from her heart how she truly believed their timely visits were more than a coincidence, and it thrilled me. Because although it hadn't happened to me, I knew it was real. I believed in Spirit. I felt it in my soul to be true.

Beginnings