Making psychic sense.

Being a psychic can make you less aware. By that I mean that I have gone through life not noticing some things it would have been better if I had noticed. It was not that I was taking life for granted but rather that I relied completely upon my psychic ability to lead me. In doing so, I missed some things that stood out in the world.


For instance a beautiful flower could have been one of the items I missed. Also, I missed the little bee hiding inside. Had I noticed and stuck my nose into the petals, I might have found this small but dangerous insect. On those occasions I am glad I missed the bee but not the flower.


As a psychic, I tend to want to see only the best in people, even though I have seen some of the worst. I think psychics as a whole try to do this. Therefore, we are not always the best judges of character when it comes to people we decide to love.


Another problem is that we feel sorry for others so much so that we will take on their problems. For me, that can be very dangerous because I am such a good empath. For a few years after I came out of the psychic closet, my doctor for whom I was a frequent visitor, finally started asking me if I had clients that week who had certain diseases. He said that I was taking them on but not in body, only in symptoms. Once I learned that little bit of information, I continued to do the readings but quit allowing myself to take on the symptoms.


Using my ability the way I do and listening to the souls of others, it is also sometimes hard for me because differing situations might bring on the same psychic patterns. For instance, years ago when I was younger, I visited with some friends a mental institution where my friends uncle was enclosed. And I do mean enclosed. As we walked further back into this massive place, attendants were locking doors behind us as we went through. Now you might believe that this was a problem for me in being locked in and I didn’t love that feeling either but what seemed to be taking all of my attention was the mass of souls crying out to me as I walked past quiet inmates in a mental prison. Though the patients were physically silent, sitting by walls and around tables as we descended further into the bowels of a building housing the mentally insane, the screams I heard from their subconscious was overwhelming. It was almost more than I could stand by the time we reached my friends uncle. For years, I have wondered why casinos bother me. This weekend, I put the two together. Now, I like to go and play cards myself on occasion but I don’t like hearing souls cry out in pain. Those who don’t have the money to spend shouldn’t go there but still some do. And then, though, most stay silent, their cries find me. Another time I got this same feeling was when I visited the Arizona Memorial in Pearl Harbor. Souls in pain who don’t see any way out of the moment.


Being psychic is something that I love and I am constantly asking questions of why this and why that. That is my nature. So don’t believe for a moment that I give up this wonderful sense I have. It is like breathing to me.


Da Juana