For my long absence at IF, I present Magnify. Many of our fears are monsters magnified from inside of us. “Befriend the feared monsters inside of you and bring them into the light.”
color pencil and ink and a touch of Photoshop
print available at my Etsy shop
Emma Lou, our basset hound, ate a bottle of chewable glucosamine yesterday. After the panic, and quick calls to the doctor, we were told she would probably be very bloated and gassy, but she’d be fine. Can you imagine? After eating a bottle? Thank goodness!
Here’s the weird part…and there is always a weird part with my life. The day before Jessica was home from school from eating four peppers from a classmate. She got sick from eating them and ending up in the nurse’s office.
Big coincidence. The next morning I dreamt about Emma being poisoned by a vampire, sick, but okay.
The vet said on the phone that eating too much of glucosamine, a relatively safe supplement, may upset Emma’s blood sugar temporarily. Blood, vampire. Hmmm.
Being the spiritually-minded person that I am, I always look for the big picture or message here. Was the dream a premonition–that which was going to happen? Or, what was planned? What was I taking in that was poisoning me, even if temporarily. What do you think?
I think my heart is closed down.
I just came back from a dance class at the college, which felt glorious and fun. Doing fun dance steps, swaying to the beats of the music, brought me back to the olden days when dancing was nurturing for me. I practically grew up in a dance studio from the time I was four or five. My second home, is what my Mom would call it. The poor woman had to play taximom to my sister and I back and forth to the studio. I grew up with the owner’s daughter, Haley, and I have fond memories of playing with Dawn dolls and dollhouses in her room at the back of the studio.
There are some bad memories too, when I got older in high school, still dancing, but then battling body image, a tough teacher now saying curves were not good, and as a result, the beginning of an eating disorder. Some of those memories are coming back as my older body has entered the dance class among the young ones, but I don’t want those memories to override my joy.
The coincidences are overpowering right now in regards to this class. My one dance teacher was Russian and called me affectionately “Runny.” This teacher at the college is also Russian. When I heard her call my name the same way, mixed feelings swept through me.
Old loves and lost joy are the themes coming up for me now. I used to adore writing and took every class at the college I could. My first writing class I met one of my best friends and felt a delicious belonging I hadn’t felt for some time. I am now taking a class in play and screenwriting, which brings me back to my acting days, more times of belonging and happiness.
I haven’t lost drawing, which I am grateful for. Through the years, however hard they may have been, I kept at it. Paper and pen flowing.
Ironically, I taught my Fairy Joy class this summer for the first time. I needed the class most of all. You see, I had lost my joy and closed my heart. I know this now. We are raising a very sweet and charming kid, who has lots and lots of issues from having a very tough beginning. That beginning colored her world and made it a place of hard survival and trauma. The problem is, she doesn’t differentiate between then and now. She has the same tactics: manipulation to get what she needs, lying, false accusations, splitting, triangulation, creating drama, etc. It’s way above even the normal teenage stuff. But what she shows others is a perfect young girl, so we look like the bad guys. As you can imagine, it’s been very, very hard for us to give while not feeling anger.
So, I am exhausted. I’m spent. My husband and I meet with several therapists a week to learn how to parent her and try to undo the exhaustion, the lack of joy, and the misunderstood & uneducated comments from the outside world.
Which brings me back to my joy and the classes. What I wrote first here is the most telling. Dance was nurturing. Through trips to the studio I spent time with my Mom, who has since crossed over too early. Mom was nurturance growing up. Writing is from my soul–a gift from me to you. Drawing connects me to that little girl unaffected by the losses and pains of the world. In the process of trying to heal our little girl, we got caught up and began to live in the rollercoaster of her world–a very dark, hurting place. And much worse, those who were meant to be helpful, hurt us much more, by not witnessing us or honoring our needs. From this dark place, we forgot how to nurture ourselves. We may even have felt we didn’t deserve to be nurtured. The message we repeatedly got: Parents only give selflessly and have no needs of their own. I’ve seen this dynamic lately mirrored in my outside world by not getting what I need–the very basics. But I had forgotten the food for my soul, the very basics for my inner world’s needs–the art, the words, the movement, the mothering!
God, the Universe, my spirit helpers, brought me to these classes and gave me the coincidences. This has led me to the understanding that we can not give from an empty place. As parents we have a right to our own needs too. As healers, artists and teachers, also. We need to open our hearts again and we can only truly do that when we are fed.
(If you are needing your joy back, consider the Fairy Joy class to rediscover what feeds you. Sign-ups are happening right now.)
I went to sleep upset with my life and wishing I was someone else.
Halfway through the night, I journeyed and had an amazing dream message.
I was at a school taking different classes. I was traveling with a friend between classes when I looked down and noticed I wasn’t me! I was tall, larger, and had light, black skin. I panicked!
“What color are my eyes?” I asked my companion. “Brown,” she answered. “Where are my green eyes? I like having green eyes?!”
We wandered around the campus with me feeling steadily uncomfortable. As this new body, I noted that I was less visible than in my short body, realizing now, being little garnered much more special attention. Being taller I was lost in the crowd, even invisible.
I missed the way my rings looked on my fingers. How my hair curled naturally in little ringlets on the ends. Where was my little pug nose? I realized I liked my face, if even for the familiarity of it. Maybe even missed it, which was weird because it was my face I’d find the most imperfections!
“When do I get my old body back?” I pleaded to my friend. “This doesn’t feel right.”
“You don’t. This is yours now.” she told me flatly.
When I woke from the dream, I was so relieved, and for the first time in awhile, I was happy to be me. This was an unusual lesson learned, because I spent most of the summer wishing I was something I was not. I saw myself in others’ eyes–being inferior to others–which, perhaps now, wasn’t real at all. Where I was short, I thought I should be tall and long. Where I was fair, I thought I should be tan. Where I was curvy, I thought I should be slim and narrow. Trips to the pool made all of this thinking worse! I thought I was not enough and invisible as who I was. And now with this dream, I realized whether it was others’ perceptions or wants, it didn’t matter, because deep down, it wasn’t mine. Being all those things–short, curvy, fair–is who I am right now, and who makes up Ronni.
How many messages do we receive on a daily basis, or, even messages that replay over and over from the learned past, that tell us who we are is not enough? That someone or something is better, so we should try to be what we are not. As if we could? How often do we stop to really look at ourselves and see the beauty we are and the superior gifts only we possess?
I remember when I was in college–a huge campus in Maryland–a much younger Ronni. Where I thought I was special, there were now hundreds of folks that were just as special. If I could draw, there were those who could draw expertly. If I could dance, you guessed it, there were amazing dancers. The worst of this equation happened when my small group of pals let in a new friend. She was also little and funny, and even, brown hair and green eyes too. My pals seemed to like her better! Why, I wasn’t special at all now.
Tears rolled down my face when I relayed the story to my Mom, and it was there that I learned where my “not good enough’s” originated from. She didn’t say that I was special just because I was me, or anything like that. There was only silence on the other end of the line.
I’d like to go back to that college girl and tell her, “We aren’t our parts, or, because you are short, have green eyes, and will later teach fairy stuff. You aren’t your special abilities or your talents either, or even what you do. You don’t have to be something you are not–such as tall, narrow, or dark–to please someone else, or to be loved, or even wanted. You should never have to work that hard for love or acceptance. Like an individual snowflake with it’s own combination of beauty, you are unique. Love what you are right now. Accept and revel in it! All of it is you. Enjoy every bit of it–whether, the crooked nose, or the juicy thighs! You don’t have to try to be someone you are not, because, when I was, I wasn’t happy. I missed me. ”
And for Mom, and her Mom before that, I wish you heard the same message long ago.
“How do you know you’ve been exposed to negativity? You doubt yourself.” – DESIGNING FAIRY
Yes, I think nasty people have a purpose. And maybe they weren’t always nasty. They became nasty. Life handed them a series of events that hurt or dismayed. I understand that. But when life throws me several nasty people at once, I have to stop and think what the message is.
I am historically one who carries everyone else’s stuff. A very bad habit for an empath. Sensitive folk tend to feel responsible for what they feel. This has been changing, shifting. So, the Universe and Dog has sent me folks in the past week who are angry and want to dump their stuff onto someone else to feel better. I am being tested. Did I really learn? Really shift?
Our daughter recognized this fine ability I have of carrying early on and graciously took advantage of this “gift.” Even when I wasn’t with her in the room, somehow it was my fault for her misdeeds. On a recent trip to her grandparents and relatives, she managed to encourage them to dump onto myself and my husband with very unfair and untrue comments. Nasty people #1
Enter disgruntled student with unkind words that didn’t help, improve, or grow my school. Ouch! Her words felt more like a bad breakup: “I wish you were something else: Prettier. Smarter. I kept hoping you would change.” Nasty people #2
And finally, the owner from the small town service station of Mayer that fixed our car was super nasty, sexist, rude, and overall disrespectful while arranging payment plans. I am grateful we could make an arrangement, but not how it was made. Nasty people #3
Has the world lost their communication skills? Do I still look like an open wastebasket? Just because I feel it does not mean I have to fix it.
I am learning the true gift of duck energy. Feel it, recognize it as someone else’s stuff, and in some cases–bad manners–and then refuse to take it on. Walk away. Stand up for yourself. Say something, but don’t carry it. Some folks only feel better if they have someone to dump it all on, but you don’t have to be that person. We are doing them a disservice. They need to process and deal with their own stuff, just like we try to. We do this to grow and be better people. Do we really want to take away their lessons to learn? This would be like doing someone else’s homework for them. Very uncool.
It did hurt when each nasty person dumped on me. I must admit it. I’ve always been the type that was appalled when someone was mean to me on purpose. I guess that is the price to pay by being so sensitive. But maybe I need to practice acceptance. Some folks won’t change. They may always be nasty in some way or another. Their lives will reflect that. You don’t have to be empathic to feel how miserable they truly must be inside. So, if I can move to a place of compassion I’ve really progressed as a soul, I suppose. But I do need to give that compassion to myself and realize I never deserve that kind of treatment, from anyone, even if I do know their reason for distress. In the words of the wonderful group Monty Python, I can “run away, run away!”
Got a great piece of advice yesterday in a fairy reading I did. The Fairy Guides are so typically simple with their advice, yet helpful, I always have to laugh. They said, if you have a heavy feeling, like you are carrying around a great deal, with high emotions to boot, it’s old stuff you’ve acquired, usually from childhood. You are seeing things from the eyes of a child and from that emotional place. That is why the emotions associated with the feeling is so exaggerated. Good advice.
I found this great reminder from my Best of the Blog ebook:
I am learning how to think bigger. What does this mean exactly? I find that the parts of my life that are blatantly not working are because I adapted very limited thinking. I listened to the voices around me that said, “That can’t be done. That’s just the way it is. This is how to do it. Think realistically.” If we hadn’t of thought there was more, we’d be stuck in horrible situations with no options. I see that now. When I checked in with my Fairy and Angel Guides, they told me to always think bigger. Why do I forget to? I look at my life. I have experienced miraculous things. Mostly because I didn’t know better! But it is a battle to think this way. There are so many opposing voices telling you not to. The bigger lesson is to stand firm and believe. To envision bigger pastures, and lots of choices. If I hadn’t thought bigger, I never would have talked to Fairies, or animals, or find the Other Side, or my daughter, or my books, or anything! Do me a favor. Just today. Think Bigger.
How have you survived the Solstice? Fun energy, huh? My life experienced such a major shift that growth has been seen on all levels. What’s does this mean? Lots of lessons learned, of course, which I’d like to share with my clients and friends.
The big thing I learned is that some of our gifts were born from childhood survival. Mine? Taking care of everyone else’s emotions, being ultra-aware of their needs and feelings from a place of deep fear and necessity, and understanding the big picture of their problems to fix them. Childhood made me into an empath. But what if those gifts are coming from an empty place? A place disconnected from your soul?
Some of our gifts come from a deeper place–from joy and who we truly are at the core. I think when I create, get lost in an art and writing project, it is from my six-year-old self–the part of me that is closest to my soul, way before my survival wounds began. (The child knows at my core I am more than enough as is.) The six-year-old loved to write plays about animals, usually imparting some message, draw and design the animal characters, and made puppets to go with the play to tell the story. At the core of my being, telling the story that teaches is what is most important.
Several times in the past few months during crisis with our daughter, gifted folks told me I should be a therapist. I had such insight. I could figure things out. I could see the deeper levels. But again, gifts created out of necessity.
Perhaps, when I talk to the animals, I am simply relaying their stories and what is important to them. When I veer into trying to fix, taking on the emotions of my clients, finding their answers, I am off course and venturing into the land of my broken places. I know when this happens when I become drained or unusually depressed. I’ve lost my soul to do what I am good at, but what does not feed me inside. I can use my empathic abilities when I teach or coach, when I create to help others, and then I am back home again.
Can you relate? What part of you is from the broken place? What part is from the core of your being? What are you doing?
The clock has been flashing “555.” I know this to mean big changes are happening, so every time my soul and Guides call my attention to the clock, I know to ask for all the changes made to be for the best and be gentle!
In my animal tarot deck, the New Beginnings card — frog — keeps showing itself. Frog is also about clearing/cleansing so new beginnings can take place. (I can attest to that! I’ve emotionally upset and rashing out!)
I have talked with so many students, clients and friends who are all going through the ringer lately, in the past few weeks. I do believe there was a door opened recently for souls to enter and to leave. Anytime there is an influx of big energy coming in, there needs to be energy coming out. We almost lost our 95 year old grandfather around this time and each other, the same time as Farrah, Michael Jackson and Ed McMahon all made their departures. I’ve been hearing the crickets chirp! Crickets: the sign of death and rebirth.
Thanks to my friends who sent me energy reports confirming that June was going to be a time of huge energy shifts and transformations. It feels like we are in excellerated speed. Not just in a cosmic/spiritual perspective, but also on a more practical level–perhaps with all the big changes in the world in economy, the president, downfalls, we are forced to face our own negative stuff and see what needs to be changed–the things we always battled, didn’t like, complained about, that hurt, didn’t work–and finally have to surrender to fixing or changing them. And that is not a bad thing! It has to change! But for sure, if we battled these things for a long time, it will feel like painful birth pains to get rid of them to birth a new way of living (the birth analogy one good friend has expressed to me and another friend also expressed a few days later!) It’s as if we finally have no choice. Pretty exciting stuff as long as we lean on our support & each other, be brave and strong, trust, and face forward. Happy birthing.
Ronni's Psychic Room 