Thank you, Chicago


2 min read
06 Jul
06Jul

It's been a week since I traveled to Chicago and had the fortune of connecting with wonderful people. My body and mind finally feel rested enough. I am no longer sleeping the sleep of the righteous, and I have resumed 100% mom duties, much to my husband's relief. 

The trip felt like being inside of a tornado. There was constant buzzing and chaos all around me, but I was able to stay calm and level-headed. Before each group of readings, I would try just to sit and be. I would have to remind myself to put down my phone, and my plans for broadcasting Facebook live videos and a podcast fell through. I needed the stillness and to connect with my own light. 

A friend traveled with me from New England. She provided comic relief, the stillness I desired and was my consistency holding it all together. She checked into and out of the hotel, made dinner reservations, and ensured that when I wasn't working, I was "Nancy." We ate good food, and when all was said and done, she had a glass of sangria waiting for me. It was the care I needed and held me together. 

It was no wonder then that halfway through our flight home after a three-hour delay, I suddenly broke down into broken sobs. My whole body physically shook, my teeth chattered, and tears streamed down my face. Other people on the plane glanced over, but K grabbed from napkins from a friendly flight attendant for my runny nose and gently rubbed my back. I didn't understand what was happening. It appeared as anxiety, but as I sobbed, it was apparent all of the emotion I had held in from the weekend was spilling out. There was no critique from K, only a gentle empathy for what was spilling out. 

I spent the next few days in a fog of sleep and wake, digesting emotions that I gladly took on during the weekend. I knew that three days of readings were going to be hard, but I honestly didn't understand the actual physical effects that came afterward. My body felt heavy and sloth-like. I tried to move but went nowhere fast. Even cooking seemed to be a stretch for me. I would sit on the couch and just stare out the window. It was almost as if I was waking up from a dream, and I was slowly coming back into my own life again. 

Last night I went to a friend's house for a girls night. I had been looking forward to the evening for weeks, and ordinarily would have made friends of the strangers I met within ten minutes. When I arrived, and I looked at the faces of women unknown to me, emotions I haven't felt in a long time came over me. I felt walls come up, and I dreaded if and when others would ask me what I did for a living. I didn't want to read anyone, but more than that, I didn't feel safe. I walked with the host into the kitchen, and she asked me what was wrong, she had noticed my mood was quiet, and I wasn't the extroverted person she had come to know. I couldn't pinpoint why I felt the way I did, only that I was still recovering from reading twenty-plus people the weekend before. My very soul felt tired and longed to be back safe in my husband's arms. 

So, I departed early and soon found myself in pajamas staring lovingly at my four-year-old son who fell asleep in my bed waiting for me. He opened his eyes slightly when I laid down next to him and gave me a sleepy smile as he reached out for me. My husband and I spoke quietly about nothing and everything. I felt safe, and once again, all was right in the world. 

The more I put myself out into the world as a Psychic Medium, the more I need those around me who ground me. I used to dislike being touched. Lately, I have found myself snuggling into my friends embraces. I accept them and the love they offer me, as they receive me "as is." It is almost as if I am a rechargeable car. When I am working as a psychic medium, I am giving energy out, freely and purely. Eventually, though, I need to recharge my own battery. Each one of my friend's hugs, a touch on the hand from my son, a look from my husband- it gives me just a bit more energy back. 

Last night, I can look back and recognize I wasn't fully charged yet. Today though, I wake up, and I can feel my Spirit rising once again. I can take on the emotions of my children and look at them with empathy instead of exhaustion. My rate of cursing has significantly gone down. Nonetheless, my husband still took the kids out with him to do errands, and I gratefully take the time to reflect and catch up on admin work for One-Question. 

It is never a burden for me to read anyone. Quite the opposite, connecting with those that have passed on and the, "aha" moment give me pure joy. Every person I connect with I feel sincere gratefulness for, and I do not take my gift for granted. While I do not think I understand my ultimate purpose for my gift, I think I am starting to see the road I am journeying on a bit clearer. It is with God's grace that I continue on this path. It has not been an easy road: full of denial, self-hate, and multiple road bumps where I thought I was truly crazy. The night I decided to come clean with my gift was the start of a beautiful new road. It's rocky, and self-doubt still manages to push its way onto the path. The acceptance of one-self has allowed me to meet so many that I would never have touched, and for each one of you, I am grateful. 

As I feel ready to take on readings again, I look back fondly at the many that allowed me into their lives in Chicago. I am humbled by the opportunity that you allowed me, and I do not take any of your stories for granted. They now live in me and are released from you.  I pray that you look at life brighter, and spread love as far as the sunshine will allow. Allow your light to shine as you honored your faith in God during the reading, and know that you are safe from judgment.

"Peace be with you," the Catholics say. 

"And also with you," the Congregation replies. 

I wish you peace. I wish you love. I wish you well on your journey. May we meet again, or may the memory continue to remind you of your true, God-given gifts. I was blessed to be in your life, if only for a moment. Even though the moment has passed, the energy lives on, and may we continue to spread the light like lightning bugs across the sky.

With love,

Nancy

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