Memoir of a Medium
Memoir of a Medium
Are you running away from your life purpose?
February 2020 I moved into an apartment in Haverfordwest, a midsize market town in west Wales. It was an emergency solution to a situation that had become unbearable and the moment I moved in I wanted to move out again. With its outdated buildings and shortage of green spaces and nature, I had always found Haverfordwest dreadful and depressing. However, the apartment was affordable, available and safe and I needed to act fast. One month later we were in a global lockdown, and I was stuck in my worst nightmare.
The Silence Within
I am no stranger to meditation and the way I manage to cope with high pressure situations is by going into the silence within. Over time and with dedicated practise, I have found ways to go into this silence even when the rat race of modern life is spinning around me. In the most intense of situations, it is always my intention to be like the eye of the storm: calm and centred from within.
Who is right?
"I hate this diary! It feels so childish. I am 15 now and I feel like shit. School sucks and at home, we have no money. It is not like we are pathetic or something, but we are not doing any fun stuff anymore. I even have to try and prevent mum or dad needing to take me to the cinema, for the gasoline is too expensive. Better get a lift with others. The paper is gone, magazines are gone, and we probably cannot afford to go on a holiday. I just need to get out of this goddamn city, with its goddamn school and its goddamn children. I want OUT!"
When I was clearing out my apartment in The Netherlands days before starting my nomadic adventure in 2015, I stumbled upon a stack of old diaries. One of them read the paragraph above and it felt timely to read this paragraph on the cusp of leaving my life as I knew it behind in search for more freedom and adventure. This young woman had felt so trapped. Trapped in her family, the school system, the city. I could feel her anger oozing from the pages. My anger. After that outburst I had stopped writing, afraid as I was of the power behind my own words. Reading them 15 years later made me wonder: Had I not gone on to feel trapped in my body and job, too? Trapped in the money-driven economy and a mortgage that forced me to sell my house? Trapped in the confines and restrictions of a tax system that did not make sense to me? An educational system that felt too narrow minded? A country that felt too flat?
When they come... Will you listen?
In her book "The seven husbands of Evelyn Hugo" Taylor Jenkins Reid writes "People think intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth. When you realise you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you stand in front of them, and their response is "you're safe with me" - that is intimacy."
Even though I have not read the book yet, this is quite possibly one of my favourite quotes of all time as it so beautifully captures everything that love is about for me. Not just love between partners, but also between friends, family, and, most importantly, between you and you. Do you feel safe with yourself and your own truth? Are you able to spend time alone and enjoy your own company? Are you able to look in the mirror and say, "you're safe with me"? It has taken me years to feel safe with myself, but I can now honestly say that I love me. I can look in the mirror and say, "You're safe with me", "I have got your back", "I trust you", "You are amazing", "I love you". I believe this is the greatest gift a woman can give to the world; her ability to love herself. When a woman loves herself, ALL of herself, her cup is always full, and she is able to give and share from an endless source of wellbeing and unconditional love.
One of the things I noticed during my own return to self-love was my tendency to run away from it. Every time I was about to commit to an expansion I truly desired, I would begin feeling uncomfortable and restless and I would mistakenly interpret it as a signal that something was not right.
I don't belong here
We were raised Catholic, my brother and I. Not very strict, but I was baptised with 6 months, did my communion when I was 7 and choose to do a confirmation when I was 12. I did not really like the church though. I never understood the strict rules and all the official mayhem around them. Also, if God was really this caring guy looking after you, then why in the world were we to sit on those painfully hard wooden church benches? I could sense something was off. All I could see were parents and children being seemingly certain about the word of God, and me feeling not so certain about it.
I remember one particular day where my mother sat to the left of me, my father to the right and a row of dark grey coats was blocking my view. I could not go anywhere. I could not see anything. All I could do was obey like everyone else around me and sit and listen. I knew what was going to happen, and I dreaded it already. The pastor's voice echoed on the walls and the ceiling:
What is the relationship with your father like?
It's always been my dream to write and be a writer. Writing is my (he)art. I write in diaries. I write on my laptop. I have written tons and tons of blogs, stories, programme modules and course content for my private clients. Yet, every time I wanted to make all this yumminess available to a wider audience, I would freeze.
Initially I thought I was just procrastinating things, so I got really mad at myself and used strategy, accountability and force to get it done. That did not work.
Then I thought it was a matter of perfectionism, so I got really gentle with myself and took my time to create something truly beautiful and aligned that I would feel proud of. That did not work either.
Eventually, it occurred to me that this was not just a mindset thing. Writing, (even just a blog like this) and hitting "publish" was triggering a proper full body freeze responds. And I owed it to myself and the people whose life I could change with my writing, the release this.
The Father Wound
During my early teens, my father started to retreat from our family. He was still there, living and breathing, but his heart was in another place. No one knew where he went to. We just knew he was not with us.
Memoir of a Medium
is an ongoing series of personal stories and experiences about my life and work as a high-level medium and oracle.
Writing these stories
makes me feel good and fills my mystical, sacred feminine heart with joy.
By sharing these stories
I trust they do the same for you.