The Ever So Secret Diary of a Psychic Medium

The beginning is a good place to start...

I am often asked "How did you know you were psychic?"

I honestly can't tell people how my psychic and spiritual journey began (unless you would like to listen to my theories of Re-Incarnation and Karma but that is another tale to tell.) However, I can tell people when the Spirit gifts came to me...

I used to be ashamed to be labelled as a child who comes from a 'troubled' background. I was subjected to humiliating bullying, extreme violence at home and I had wanted to go to sleep and never wake up since the age of five. This is not the time nor place to delve into the painful details of that type of upbringing except to say that I am NOW grateful!

Yes, I am grateful as I now recognise that the whole of my life, especially the early years, was a part of the 'Apprenticeship' which I speak of throughout this book. (I have met many clients who say that they wish they were psychic but I warn everybody who reads this diary to be careful of what you wish for as it is my personal experience that the 'apprenticeship' is an extremely difficult and at times a dangerous path.)

From as far back as the age of 4 or 5 years old I can remember being able to see colours around a person's head area: seeing the colours emphatically saved my young body from some beatings if not my very life.

If the person was to be avoided the colours would appear as a halo of dark mud colour tinged with reds and blacks and if I was in grave danger the colour would swirl as a vibrant red. I would wait until the colour changed to a dull orange and then to a dirty mustard colour before feeling that I was in safer territory.

People outside my home would tend to vibrate with the mustard colour which would fade through to a faded white/green.

Once or twice I would encounter adults and children who were shining with a vibrant pure blue but this was a very rare thing to see...

I remember clearly the first time that I encountered a 'Blue'...

I was about 8 years old and standing alone in the grey playground of the school and hating every long agonising minute: willing the bell to ring which meant that we could go inside to the safety of the classroom. Each school day was the same; the other children did not want to be around me as they grouped together to play the latest game of 'elastics', skipping or marbles. I had tried a few times to join in with the games: once, I got so close to the girls who had 'elastics' around their ankles that a new girl in the school thought that I was next in line to take a turn. My heart was hammering in my chest and I honestly thought that some sort of truce had been made that day. No such luck. I was pushed away from the game of elastics and heard the popular girl shout "Get away Smelly!" I fell to the concrete ground and both knees smashed painfully but I would not let them see me cry. I got up from the ground and was horrified to hear other children start to chant "Smelly". As I stood there wondering what to do I was pushed down again to the floor; the kids seemed to forget the game of elastics as they took turns to either push, shove or kick me. My yellow dress was dirty and my black school shoes became scuffed. In that moment I think I was more worried about my Mothers' reaction to the scuffed shoes.

This is when I saw the first 'Blue'...

An older girl from the bigger class had raced across the school playground to put her arms around me and help me to my feet. The kids from my class had run away to join the line-up as the school bell had rung; we had to assemble in neat lines and put our hands up in the air as our names were called from the register. The kind girl escorted me to the back of my line and waited with me for a few moments then she gave a little wave and a smile as she walked away toward the older school children' s playground. I watched her leave and that is when I saw the most beautiful blue colour surrounding the whole area of her head. I kept my eyes on her as she slowly walked away and then I cannot describe what happened next in any other way except to say that she faded and disappeared right before my eyes!

I searched for the kind girl for over a week every day at school. As the weeks went by I waited beside the chain link fence which separated the younger playground from the older playground in the hope that she would see me. One of the teachers must have noticed and she asked me why I waited every playground time. I described the girl who I was looking for and the teacher promised me that she would find out who the 'mystery' girl was. The teacher kept her word and informed me the following day that a girl whose description had matched the one given by me had died about a month ago and that I must have been extremely distressed when she died and that I had either got the dates wrong or I was grieving. The teacher walked away before I could explain that I had never known the 'mystery' girl: perhaps just as well because I didn't want the teachers thinking that I was an odd child.

Later, during afternoon play break, I remember using toilet paper soaked in tap water to desperately wash away the betraying scuffs on my knees and shoes but one of the teachers had come into the girls' toilets and barked at me "Out. C'mon, all of you out. Enjoy the sunshine and get some fresh air". I hated being in the playground. I hated the other kids seeing that I had nothing to do except walk around by myself.

I walked home after school that day with familiar dread gnawing at my tummy; my school shoes were scuffed and the yellow dress had ripped during the playground scuffle. Dirt and gravel clung to my blood encrusted knees like a snitching sibling dying to tell a tale on me and gleefully knowing that I would be in trouble.

Around this time, I just accepted that each person was surrounded by different colours which intensified around the head area; I hadn't spoken about the colours because I naturally thought that everybody could see. It was around the incident of the 'mystery girl' that I started to wonder what each colour meant and, looking back, I think I intuitively knew that red and orange meant danger and the very rare blues were a good thing.