The Blooming of a Medium

reply to post by sled735


Not all of the mods were mediums. Everyone who became a mod was chosen for certain skills they had. I seem to be able to make people smile, and laugh, even when they are hurting inside, and that was an important aspect of being a mod there. My job was to console, be a grief counselor, and share my own understandings of spirit and the spirit world, and be a JVP representative. Many times I had to deal with the press, because they would send in reporters to the website and they would ask questions a lot, so had to keep up on what JVP was up to.
It was an honor for sure, I never thought I would be involved in something like that.

reply to post by Netties Hermit


Pets most definitely continue on after they pass.
If the bond is strong enough, when a person crosses over,
the pets are also there waiting for them.

I can't wait to hold my cats again

I used to have a black little runt cat with long hair named Singapore, who would curl around my neck and follow me around the neighborhood everywhere I went. I was so sad when one day she didn't come home, and never did again. I have not owned a pet since. I know what happened to her When I do cross over, she will be the first one I hug

reply to post by Darkblade71


Thanks Darkblade, you are helping people in more ways than any of us can imagine.

I must admit I would love to be able to ease the suffering of people in such a profound way, however I can understand the burden you must carry at the same time.

Thanks for the fascinating read.

Originally posted by sled735
reply to post by Darkblade71

 

The dog story reminded me of my daughter's dog she brought to my house when she moved into a place that didn't allow pets. It stayed in a fenced pen up on the hill behind our house all the time. I didn't have time to spend with the dog, and every time someone stepped out the back door she would perk up her ears and look like she was smiling... so happy just to see someone. I could FEEL her loneliness to the point I couldn't take it any more.

I told my daughter we had to find her a home where people could play with her, and give her the love and attention she deserved. My daughter got mad at me, but agreed. What else could she do? My thoughts were for the dog's well-being.
I found her a home with a family who had other dogs she could play with. They said they took the dogs to the lake every weekend and let them run free, and could offer vet care that I couldn't afford. They were very happy to get her. I could tell they would give her a great home.

Although I think I did the right thing for the dog, my daughter has never forgiven me. She loved that dog so much.
Now I feel guilty about it. Every time we see a dog the breed of hers ( can't spell it), she mentions me getting rid of her dog. Did I do the wrong thing? Guess it depends on which way you look at it.

No, you did the right thing. The dog was the concern, your daughter was not suffering, only the dog. She may be upset that you did what you did, but your reasoning and your heart felt compassion were just.
Your daughter also may have learned from this about animals and loving them. It was a lesson for both of you through a family pet.

Originally posted by dodgygeeza
reply to post by Darkblade71

 

Thanks Darkblade, you are helping people in more ways than any of us can imagine.

I must admit I would love to be able to ease the suffering of people in such a profound way, however I can understand the burden you must carry at the same time.

Thanks for the fascinating read.

edit on 2-10-2012 by dodgygeeza because: (no reason given)

Thank you for the kind words.
It was a burden I gladly carried for a while, until life over ran my ability to carry it any farther. When I get a chance to sit down and write the next update, I will fill in on that hopefully. I found that my own tragedies, my own experience with abuse, neglect,anxiety disorders, were preparing me for what I was now doing. Without going through these things myself, and without them changing me in the ways they did, I would of never of been able to do the things I have done. I would not of been able to handle it and I would not of been put into a place where I could assist people in the ways I did. I believe that even in the worst of circumstances, there are reasons for it, at least in my life, and connecting the dots over time, showed me that I am what I am because of what I experienced as a child and growing up, and I believe I was supposed to experience all that was wrong with my family back then. The school of hard knocks can be the best schooling one will ever get.

reply to post by Darkblade71


Perhaps this is your "mission" to act as a link between this life and the next. While most of us clamour to find some hope of an afterlife in one way or another it must be liberating to "know" in your soul that there really is something else, not only for yourself but giving that small glimmer of hope for those who are truly in need.

Be strong in remaining a source of light in a very dark world. The rest of us truly need people like you.

I look forward to reading the rest of your story.

Originally posted by dodgygeeza
reply to post by Darkblade71

 

Be strong in remaining a source of light in a very dark world. The rest of us truly need people like you.

Trying!
I'm hoping to have time to sit down and seriously write some more tonight,
as it seems to be flowing out very well.

Just a post to get my thread off of 66 posts and 6 flags

reply to post by Darkblade71


I bumped the flag to 7 for u

waiting for the rest of your story....

reply to post by obnoxiouschick


Thank you!
Gonna work on it after dinner.

I think I already got a good idea of what I got for the next one,
my experience with the mental health system

This one is going to be fun for me!

It starts out ROUGH, but that is how we grow sometimes, at least that seems to be where I grow the most.
All my life I had battled depression and low self esteem. Somewhere around 1999 I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress disorder because after I had moved from one town to another and inherited my grandma's house, I isolated myself and became agoraphobic. Along with the depression and low self esteem problem I couldn't go outside anymore. I started to become riddled with anxiety attacks, and one night (Halloween night 1998) I stepped outside my house and got such bad vertigo and panic that I went inside and hardly ever came out after that. The next year I went to a psychiatrist to get some help for it and when I told him about everything I had been through, I was diagnosed with PTSD. It was very interesting going to him. I learned a lot about my anxiety and the horrible nightmares I was having etc. When it came to the psychic stuff, I also told him everything, and he said something that to this day may have allowed me to open up to the mental health system like I did later on,and that was that if what I was seeing and telling people is verified by them, then I am psychic.He was open to it where I was expecting the system to be closed to it and probably lock me up in a rubber room. I really did worry about it back then.A few years before I was practicing aura gazing and healing before I became agoraphobic. I had quit my job after my 2nd son was born and the aura healing pretty much stopped there. I was working with physically/mentally challenged adults and loved that job.After my 2nd son was born, I had to make a choice, because at that time my wife was making enough money to where I could quit my job and be an at home dad if I wanted to, and I had been working midnights and watching my son all day anyways, it was taking it's toll on me through lack of sleep. I didn't get much. The choice was pretty easy.
When I got my grandma's house and moved one town over, it was on the outskirts of town. Once I moved there I lost most of my friends because of distance pretty much,that and when I started practice psychic things, like reading tarot and auras,they kind of thought it was weird and I was weird and I kind of laugh at it now, but yeah, it was all kind of weird. Anyways, back on track....

I was relieved with the diagnosis of PTSD because it explained a lot that was going on, and the meds I was taking were making the depression go away...sort of....The anxiety was getting worse, but we were working on it. My regular doctor was prescribing my pills for depression, and I was ok with that although my psychiatrist suggested they take over. I was good with my regular doctor so I figured he could handle it.

One day I came into my therapy session and he told me he was moving and that I had to see another psychiatrist. I was ok with that although I was sorry to see him go, I learned a lot from him in a fairly short amount of time.

The next psychiatrist right away told me he could not understand the other psychiatrists notes and threw them out. That first session with him went very badly for him and I. When I walked into the room, I right away could sense that there was a problem. He looked at me funny and then began to tell me that he pretty much totally disrespected the prior shrink, and that we were going start over from scratch. Thinking about it now, I wonder if he just didn't believe what he was reading, or I don't know honestly, I just know he had an attitude, and I could feel his ego, and it screamed young and close minded. Once I heard he was making me start over from scratch and his personal opinion of the prior doctor, I understood a bit better. I left after a few sessions and never went back to him. I would panic so bad just trying to get there to see him that it was not worth the effort. I missed a few appointments, just couldn't go. Agoraphobia is a very strange fear, any discomfort what so ever and you want nothing more than to shut out the world and hide. One wrong look at an agoraphobic will send them into their home for weeks,months,years. I had a problem with the therapist. I gave up trying for a while.

Now I had three boys.My wife did the outside things, and I did the inside things, it seemed to be working fine. I was spending a lot of time online doing what I couldn't do outside, spiritually/psychically exploring through the internet, and experimenting, blowing the psychic doors off because the other doors were shut tight, and then I became a moderator for JVP, and all was going good as it could all things considered. At least all of the time I spent moderating was going for a good cause. I felt that at least I could do something good with my time spent inside. It was not time wasted. On the side of this, my marriage was falling apart as would be expected with such a situation. Divorce reared its ugly head and I completely broke down.

Although I had thought before that I had already gone through the dark night of the soul, I had not. But I was about to now. Even though the love between my wife and I had been gone for some time, we depended on each other, she enabled me, and I threw my all into letting her career flourish while I hid and did the at home dad thing. I really did all I could from the inside. My boys were my world, and when she came in and told me that it was over, my world exploded in a nuclear holocaust. Long story short, I was torn into two pieces with a sucking void of pain and depression in the center. That was exactly how it felt. I developed what they call suicidal ideation. The thought of dying started to continually hit me in the head. It was very strange. I did not want to die, but the thought just kept coming at me, over and over. I would see something like a tree limb, and wonder if it would hold my weight if I hung myself on it, and then I would catch myself thinking these things and go WTF!! It was almost like these thoughts were not my own, I was not on medication anymore because a few years earlier I discovered that even though I was agoraphobic the meds were making me a zombie of apathy as I like to call it, and I could handle the depths of my soul. I would get so sleepy during the day with the meds that I couldn't watch my kids right because I would fall asleep.I went off the medication when I was ready, with my Dr.s blessing.

Meditation and working online were helping me through it until this happened.

It was like smoking a rat out of a hole. I tried for weeks to fix things, my agoraphobia became something I got so mad at that I MADE myself go outside and do something, everything I had not done for years. I was cracking, but in a way I had never heard of before. I had so much energy after years of being inside hiding. My senses were again heightened, I could smell things I never smelled before.I wanted to do the things I never did, I wanted to live like I was dying. I remember showing my sons one day how strong I felt. I went out back and I lifted the back end of the car off the ground. I did that. They saw it. My body was so saturated with adrenalin that I was like superman. It was scary and I knew it wasn't right. I was staying at my moms, and at night I would wake up and hear my sons coming out of the bedroom asking me to help, and realize I was dreaming, and it would hurt so bad. I remember getting vertigo again....and feeling the changes taking place in my brain, only this time, I was not on meds, like when it happened before. I recognized it as chemical imbalances starting up again, and if I was noticing it, then it was a bad thing because it was a very strong feeling of actual changes.

I put myself in a partial hospital program in the mental health system. It was do or die at this point, I knew without help I was dead. If not by killing myself, by organ failure/stroke due to adrenalin over-saturation, which I did not know was possible.

My first day there was interesting for sure. My counselor was a very nice lady, and she asked me tons of questions, and then she asked one that made me stop and answer very carefully. She asked me if I had ever heard voices. I have. That voice, the one that tells me something is going happen before I experience it sometimes.I told her, yes,I have. She instantly said something along the lines of, that's ok, we have several people here who have schizophrenia. I said, no, you don't understand, I am a psychic and it is a spiritual thing. I then pulled out one of JVP's books, one of the autographed ones I have, and I explained what I do. She looked at the book,grabbed it and excused herself for a few minutes. I have no idea where she went, I assume to go look and see if I was telling the truth or not, because when she came back, one of her first comments was that if Oprah backs him, he has her backing. After that, there was no more questions about my psychic experiences, just the mental ones I was dealing with, which was severe depression at that point. It had completely taken over any other anxiety I had was secondary. When I came in that first day, I was shaking like a cat on a hot tin roof, or so they tell me. I also met the psychiatrist that day, he spoke with such a deep Russian accent that at first I couldn't understand him, but once I did, he had my attention any time I saw him. I was relieved to be there really. I was getting help finally. I was sick of being sick and right then I was very sick, FIX ME!!!

They put me on anti psychotics and anti depressants, combined, they shut down all of the overriding emotions that were filling my head with noise unlike anything I have ever felt before, all of my emotions were so amplified that I was exploding in my mind over and over again.

The anti psychotics worked immediately. Within 20 minutes I felt relief like I had not felt in years.

The next 30 day (It was only supposed to be 15) was some of the funnest days I have ever had.
I soak up information like a sponge, and I soaked up ever single bit of information I could from them about myself. There were several psychiatrists, several groups, private sessions,blood tests, brain scans, I was poked and prodded and my mind opened up in a psychiatrists chair. Every single bit of therapy and self help they offered I took. I was going to get better this time, I was going to beat this disorder, I was going to face it and confront it and walk away a new man, and I did. Almost 30 thousand dollars (thank god for insurance) later, and 30 days later. I was back to my old self, the self before I gave up everything to be an at home dad,I was me again, only this time healthy and much wiser. But I am skipping part of the story.

I caught the mental health system by surprise.

They were used to people who were using the system to use the system. I was not there for that. From day 1 I started to do everything they said, from journaling ( I used to do it anyways to all sorts of psychological tests and treatments, like dialectic behavioral therapy I think it was. I couldn't get enough, and they were surprised at how fast I was responding to all of it. I was in a program with around 5 other people all dealing with what was termed severe emotional crisis, and all of us were to work together to get better.
I met my first schizophrenic there. He was a trip. It was kind of fun!
I had to be careful though, I knew I could really mess with someones mind if I wanted to, and so I was very careful to keep things turned off for the most part, however, spirit won't be denied when something needs to be done, and well, I did what I always did for others, I helped them and just kind of gave hints here and there about things to try or do. I drew a picture one day of a guy with all of these things coming at him from all directions, it was how I was feeling at the moment, and it was what they asked me to do, so I did it. It was an interesting picture, and it seemed to catch the psychiatrists eye. He asked me what it was and I explained the things coming at me from everywhere, it was just my feelings at the moment.
The very next morning, a guy walks in who looks exactly like the cartoon guy in the center of my picture with all of the things coming at him. He was the first schizophrenic I have ever met. He looked at the picture that day and asked what it was, and I just blurted out, it is for you, and gave it to him. He framed it on his wall later I guess.
I don't know how to explain what happened there properly. I don't know if it was by example, or if something deeper was at work, (well I am pretty sure something deeper) but while I was there, I helped several people.
It wasn't giving out psychic information, it was in opening up and allowing people to see me, the inner me, and in doing so, they opened up. I saw it happening. Towards the end of the day we would all do this mediation and every single time I would fall asleep and wake up to people staring at me, and realize I started to snore, the meditation was working, and people thought it was funny, so they lightened up and tried it too.

Every once and a while I would bring my little meditation book that James had sent me, and read a visual meditation or thought, and at first I thought I was being kind of corny, but let me tell you, people would listen with fixed gazes and they would do the visualizations and they would feel better, and that was the point, it was working.

There had been a discussion at one point about a vision I had a while before about someone who had disappeared, and I was kind of shocked when I was told I really should go work with the police department, that I could probably help them.I never thought I would hear that from a mental health worker/psychologist.
When I finished the program, they were sad to see me go, but very happy that I was much better. I was told that if I ever get a degree in psychology I should come back for a job.

My marriage was over, but everything was going to be ok. I just knew it. I could feel it in my soul.

The next year was a blur of activity. I found a job, a girl friend and started saving money to go to Alaska. I had always wanted to go back home, to where I was born, because I never felt at home in Minnesota. We moved from Alaska when I was 9, and I needed to return home to lick my wounds, for lack of a better way of putting it. I had felt a pull in that direction for years, but my now x wife never wanted to even visit there even though I had tried.

I eventually saved up enough cash to get myself a one way ticket home.
I hopped a plane and flew back to where I came from!
This was a dream of mine ever since we left when I was a kid, and I was about to live it.

On the way to Petersburg Alaska (my home town) I had a lay over in Juneau,
and I have a thread here about it here:
Spirit Animal Guides Mine is Raven, what is yours?
I had an incredible experience with the ravens, and still do with crows, and black birds. The connection of my spirit to just the entire southeast Alaskan coast was something I cannot describe other than complete safety and complete oneness with my surroundings.

When I got to Petersburg, my uncle met me at the airport and gave me a place to stay for a few weeks while I looked for a place of my own. I had timed everything so I would get there before the fishing season started because I knew that if I didn't, there would be no jobs, no housing, I'd be sleeping under a cannery.
I had a job lined up for a cannery, but wanted to look for something else because even though I worked in a fish farm for quite a few years and know how to process large amounts of salmon, I still don't want to do it again. I would of had I needed to, but I wanted to see what I could find around town before the season started.

I was hired in the first store I walked in. I got a cashier job in the biggest store on the island. It was not seasonal,and full time, at more an hour than I had ever made anywhere else. It was perfect. My cousin introduced me to a tall guy named "Shaggy" and well, yeah, he did remind me a lot of Shaggy from Scooby Doo, and his dog,Whishka, acted just like you would expect from scooby doo, he was a big goofy shaggy dog.
I rented a room from him in his trailer and it was a fun time. He had a lot of friends so everyone was always going out boating to glaciers or fishing trips, true Alaskan redneck adventures!
Eventually it came up that I was psychic, and one night he called me on it in front of his friends. We were all hanging out after work and having a few beers when he started talking about it and next thing I knew I whipped out a deck of tarot and gave him a reading. I had not used them in quite some time, but was just feeling the vibe that night so to speak, and at this point he had never seen me do a reading, I know he was a pure skeptic, he had said before he didn't believe in that stuff really. Well, I told him it was all in fun right? And I laid out a spread for him in front of his friends. I told him he was going to get married within the next year and have a baby within a year and a half to two years. EVERYONE laughed at this, me included because there was no way this was going to happen, he was a single guy with no intention of finding someone soon other than one night stands.
His buddy Hill Billy (yep, that was what we called him) wanted a reading, but I felt I shouldn't use cards, something else was for Hill Billy that evening.
I took a deep breath and it just kind of came out. You're grandma is here, and she wants to let you know she loves you, she is showing me an ivory broach around her neck, some sort of pendant, Oscar, she says, you need to go back to Oregon and straighten out your affairs.
I didn't know anything about Hill Billy then, other than he annoyed me sometimes, but I watched the color drain from his face and he dropped to his knees crying.
I then repeated back another message, that he would go to jail when he got there, but that he needed to do this before it became bigger than what it was. His grandma would go with him and comfort him as he did this.
He was really grateful for that, but it spooked the hell out of him. His wife wanted a readings too, but I couldn't.
I was done, and also did not like the feeling I got off of her, some sort of issue. A few days later she tried to tell Hill Billy that we slept together to cause him to come over and start some crap with me and he fell for it.
Before I could really react, Shaggy had him pinned up against the wall and threw him out for the evening. Imagine a 6'4 guy picking up a 5'2 guy and pinning him by his throat up against the side of the tailor, thats pretty much what happened. They were a rough crowd.
Shortly there after, Hill Billy quit the cannery and went back to Oregon where he was arrested as soon as he got off the plane for violation of probation. I guess his old lady did too.

I should add the the broach that I told Hill Billy about was a family heirloom that he recognized right away.
I don't think he left because of the reading, just Hill Billy doing what he does. He would bounce back and forth between the two states a lot.
And on that note I am done writing for the evening, my fingers/brain are/is starting to hurt and so are my eyeballs!

Wow!
Amazing stories and I thank you for sharing them, I 'goosed' all the way through = true
not that anyone who reads your thread needs my validation, but very cool man, very cool indeed.

Looking forward to coming back and reading more for sure.

You keep writing and I will keep reading :-)

I hope you started writing that book Darkblade ! IT'S TIME !!

WOW, DarkBlade! What an interesting story/life!

I was glued to the computer until I finished all the pages you posted, even though I needed to do something else right now. How could I leave such a fascinating thread?

I look forward to hearing "the rest of the story". (Does anyone remember the radio personality who used to say that?
Now I'm telling my age! Ha!)

After I get done with some work today I will add a bit more.

Musical interlude after contemplating the mental health system: