The Weird Kid Who Grew Up to Be a Spiritual Therapist (Plot Twist: It’s Me)

From as far back as I can remember, I’ve always felt… different. Not “wears-a-cape-to-school” different, but more like “feels-things-and-sees-things-she-probably-shouldn’t” kind of different. I knew I was here for something. A purpose. A mission. Maybe not full-blown “chosen one” vibes, but definitely “slightly magical side character who helps the hero discover their powers” energy.

Now, before my brothers start rolling their eyes so hard they sprain something no, I didn’t think I was a prophet. (Though I’m sure that would’ve made for some stellar family dinner conversations.)

What I did know was that I had this ridiculous amount of love inside me. Like, Disney-princess-level heart energy, just waiting to explode into sparkles all over the world. And no matter what life threw at me and trust me, it threw a few curveballs that love didn’t budge. Stubborn little thing.

I also knew things I probably shouldn’t have known. Like, spooky accurate things. I’d know who was ringing before the phone even made a noise. If bad news was coming, my stomach would start doing backflips like it was in training for the Olympic gymnastics team. And let’s not even talk about the shadows that liked to zoom past my peripheral vision like they were late for a ghost meeting. I felt stuff. And I don’t mean “teenage angst” I mean energy. Unworldly, unexplainable, goosebump-making stuff.

But did I tell anyone? HA. Can you imagine the reaction? “Mum, Dad, I think I can sense spirits.” Boom straight to the “No More Watching Buffy” list.

So, I just quietly got on with it. Lived my life with this invisible, slightly spooky side hustle I hadn’t signed up for. It wasn’t until my late 20s that I thought, “Right, maybe it’s time to peek behind the cosmic curtain.” Before that, I’d had a breakdown in my early 20s, and let’s be honest if you start chatting about hearing voices during a mental health wobble, people get real twitchy.

There’s a very fine line between “gifted” and “needs a padded room,” and I was determined to stay firmly on the right side of that line.

But I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I knew I wanted to help people. I felt this calling. I just didn’t have the foggiest idea where to begin. It was like having a treasure map in a language you’ve never seen, with a big “X” over your own soul.

Still very much in the spiritual closet like, deep in there next to the winter coats and that one shoe you’ve never found the pair for I decided that if I was going to open the door to spirit, it would be on my terms. At my pace. With a cautious toe-dip, not a cannonball.

I was still scared, yes. But I was also ready. And as it turns out, spirit doesn’t mind if you come with a little sass and a lot of sarcasm. In fact, I think they kinda like it.