Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Keepin' it real. Or something else?

I have to admit something. I struggle to write here about the "other" stuff that goes on in my life. I fear ridicule, I don't so much fear people disbelieving me anymore... but I do fear the ridicule. I guess what I am really fearing, then, is rejection.

Ah, yes. Thank you, dear Alfred Adler, for alerting the media to that one.

I'm not sure how to broach the topics of the things that happen here (I'm talking, I guess, paranormal... oh, heck, look that already sounds too Ghost Whispery for my liking) but I do so often want to share. And then I back right off from doing so because, well, for several reasons I suppose. For one thing, I don't want this to become a cliché.

I guess I could just start documenting. And then, when things turn into "to be continued" follow-up posts, I wouldn't have such back-tracking to do.

Take, for instance, the most recent thing that's been going on here. Here goes...

About two months ago, give or take a week, I got woken from a deep sleep in the middle of the night. A young girl (no, definitely nobody I know) said to someone as she stood beside my bed, "Let's turn her light on, that'll wake her up and THEN she'll get up and have to work!" She was mischievous. I woke up, eyes still closed, not a little scared. Then I flashed my eyes open as if to prove to my "silly imaginative brain" that it was going to be pitch dark.

It wasn't. My bedside light was on. Go ahead and explain away all you like. But I guarantee you, it was off before I went to sleep and I have never ever been in the habit before of doing things (such as turning my light on) for no good reason in my sleep.

I knew "they" (I usually call this collective, "upstairs", because it sounds friendly and harmless, which I believe it is... as a collective) wanted me to get up and work. I had been growing aware of a dragging energy pulling on me. It was beginning each night as I went to bed.

But here comes my humanness getting in the way. I was:

1) always doubtful of my ability to do whatever this "work" was;
2) becoming "spiritually lazy" - ie. just, really, promising during daylight hours that if I was called on, I would (this time, I promise) get over my fears of the dark, fears of whom or what I might see (my own conjured up boogeyman of my mind), and then totally going back on my word;
3) beginning to psyche myself out and turning it into a scary movie (which it totally wasn't, because there was nothing sinister at all in the energies I was sensing - meddling, or blocking, maybe, but not "bad" in any way at all).

What this did was create a bit of a melting pot, I discovered. Other things began occurring. The LGBB, for example, began voicing her fear of rooms - every room, almost - in the house and flatly refused to go anywhere other than the kitchen and our bedroom unless I was with her. She would tell me, even in daylight, that "the room's too dark... it's scary". She had never heard or even overheard me voice anything. Because I hadn't voiced my own fears to anyone! Not even Steve.

And then, one night about three weeks ago, I walked into the lounge room to double check the computer one last time before going to bed. The room was dark. Steve was down in the LGBB's "wing", opening doors and lowering music volume and so forth. When I crossed the threshold of the lounge room, there was a man standing there to my left. I let out an almighty "AGGH!" before realising I had seen an energy. It wasn't an intruder. I wasn't actually sure what might have been more acceptable. And that's when I knew I had to pull my socks up and get real with myself. I do see these things, I do have to be responsible with them. Otherwise, why the heck am I seeing or hearing them?

So uh... I did nothing. Oops.

So then, at the start of last week, I was in the kitchen here and Steve was in the lounge watching tv and waiting for me to come in. I started to move towards the lounge (it faces our bedroom door, with a lovely big entry way in between) and saw him walk into the bedroom. Imagine my surprise, then, when I nearly tripped over him (because I was looking at the floor as I walked) standing in the middle of the lounge room still! Er.... I yelped. And that's when it all started spilling out. I told him I'd just seen him walking into our bedroom. He stared at me, a comical wide-eyed "you're a freak... but I love you" stare. He's used to admissions out of the blue like this from me by now. And then I told him about the man - a different man, I'm sure - in the lounge the time before that. And then the girl at my bedside.

Ooookay. That's a few too many people. And that wasn't even to mention the number of times in the past couple of months that he's come in to where I've been and said, "Did you call me?" I have always replied, no. And then felt somewhat validated as the confusion and slight weakening in his sceptical mask crosses his face visibly. He is always so sure that he "could've sworn....". Same thing happens to me too. I hear male and female voices sometimes around here. I'm fairly used to it (I can't ever really hear what they're saying anyway). The LGBB is also pretty regularly asking things lately like, "Where the lady gone?"

So. What to do? How to begin? Well, last week, I thought it was high time I did. My sleep was being affected. I was being woken every single night. I'd then lay there, scared frigid and in hot sweats, wanting desperately to get out of bed but quite certain I'd be standing in my own piddle in a puddle on my kitchen floor at some point if I did.

I phoned Neri (she's from Peace Space - anyone who's read the draft of my book would know her - she's so awesome and pulls absolutely no punches). Told her what was going on. She said there was a passover that sounded like it was needing to be done. My mind started racing forward and assuming, "oh, passover? So, like, these are dead people hanging around that I have to somehow clear out because they've attached themselves to us?"

No. How simplistic my guess was. It was, in fact, way easier than this to deal with (to me, at least). After some internal work and unravelling, I've nutted out that it stems from times past when, as a kid, I'd be in trouble if I ever got out of bed. Certainly if I got out of bed and wanted to get in my parents' bed. Add to this that our house was a big scary mo'-fo' of a place. Biiig scary. That's an entirely different post altogether (and a big hello to all the Flying High/Airplane! fans right here). So if, as a child, I'd been taught that getting out of bed was bad/scary/wrong/naughty, it set up the thinking that something bad might happen to me if I wasn't safe in my bed. I had to now retrain my adult self out of this thinking.

What ensued was a night or two of telling myself internally that I was the adult now, that I had permission (this all sounds nutty, right?!) to get out of bed and that nothing bad would happen to me if and when I did.

It put an entirely different spin on how I view our methods of putting the LGBB to bed. I'm quite satisfied that we don't put "the fear of God" or whatever into her, that she's not told she must under no circumstances get out of bed. I know how damaging this can be. I don't know what the answer is, if you have a child who constantly gets up and comes in to your bed... I'm not saying I have the answers. I just know that, in my experience as a child, it was harmful to put that fear into us - coupled with a scary-ass house and a long country mile between my parents' door and mine.

I also went and did a bit of a clearing to remove the energy - to pass it over - and basically tell it that it was "time to go". I mean, even my completely (or so he'd have you believe) closed down husband and toddler daughter were being affected. Nothing bad, I stress here. But just... well, not productive and rather limiting to us as a household.

So what happens the very next night after I do this "passover" clearing?

We get a visit in the wee hours from our little LGBB, who's walked the twenty-seven steps - yes, we've counted because it feels like a mile away, especially at night in the dark - with her regulation "two dummies" and friends, Scraps and Bunny, in tow. Walked all the way up to say good morning! Very nonchalant and not talking at all about the dark or anything that was scary. Okay, so it wasn't 6am yet. But we were still so impressed! She wouldn't even do that during the day, let me tell you, with all the lights on AND the sun shining in the windows. She hasn't done it since. But just that one time. I had been musing to myself on going to bed that it "felt different" now. I was satisfied I had done my job and cleared it. And then she turns up. I was quite amazed.

So now, I guess, the energy that pulls me out of bed to work will get a much more coherent and willing participant (in me). I've already been up, around 5am or so, and to be honest I can't actually remember what I worked on. Upstairs just instructed me on a few things - life things, my life and direction - and... er, well, I might just stop now because that all seems quite mundane to put in writing. Too hard (and too much) to explain, anyway.

I don't really know what this post is about. Don't really even know how to end it. It's just... well, this is so much a part of who I am - it's not some new circus act, but rather, something that has laid dormant in me since childhood - that I would be quite denying this major side of myself if I didn't speak/admit/be honest in here every once in a while.

Amongst all the fluff and light and complaints, that is. Orright. Let me be off, before I change my mind and delete this.

Toodles *scarpers, with dust raising from heels*

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