I knew the wound wasn’t healed. It was something that I had been working on. I guess, I guess I just didn’t realize how raw it was either. Yet, in the matter of one question and 3 seconds my wound was exposed and took my breath away.
I was sitting curled in a chair in my kitchen drinking a glass of water after putting my boys to bed. He had already asked me about my business and I explained how I read energy and coach people on their own spiritual journey and healing process. His question was simple, “can you read me?”. It is something that I am asked on a daily basis and don’t skip a beat about, my entire business is built on it.
In the flash of a second and in one sentence my insecurities and self-worth issues were served to me on a platter. My water was half tap water and half peach-ginger seltzer. I swallowed hard and the bubbles stuck in my throat the way that my words were.
I had a choice. I could avoid my wound or I could start stitching the wound close. All of Samel’s judgement and harshness tore through me as if he were standing in front of me again. I had already allowed his words to come with me into my last relationship. I replayed “this” moment from my last relationship frequently. We were visiting his mum and aunt and playing a board game. Your cue was “grandfather” and I didn’t expect to be put on the spot like that. There is a process to opening for mediumship and while I can openly quickly it isn’t comfortable or fun. At the table, the world got quiet and confusing, it was one of my only experiences with feeling paralized by my own emotions. Despite the fact that I was at the table physically, I was actually far from the table, I was reliving him tearing me apart. My fear of experiencing him again absolutely paralized me. I can’t even remember what word I picked, something to do with religion, and as I pointed to the card I heard clear as day “I am Allen”. The name Allen was on the table. It was a profound experience for me, not because I didn’t demonstrate mediumship effectively,but because I allowed my wound to paralyze me. I swore that I wouldn’t do it again, I wouldn’t hand you that kind of power ever again. So, here I sat with the option of handing you my power. I took a deep clearing breath, welcomed the element of air to help me release, and with the exhale I started to read.
“Oh my god Erin. You nailed it, on the spot”.
While the validation was nice, it wasn’t even the important part. When given the opportunity to run from my wound I faced it, I started stitching the wound shut, closing the hole that allowed my power to be given away.
