I believe in spirits.
I believe I am a little bit psychic.
One day, after not talking to a friend for 8 months, I got a feeling to call her. Right then. I did. She laughed, knowing that I just know when it is time to call. She had just had her baby. Early. Unexpectedly. That hour. Of course I "knew" to call. She gets it. She is a little psychic too.
This makes my partner very angry. Very. "You are a scientist. You are brilliant. You are too smart and analytical to believe in any of that garbage." So, when I tell him that his energy is all off, you can imagine how successful that is. There is probably no bigger hot button in my household than me telling someone (well, that someone in particular) that their energy is off. I have to find a less "new age-y" way to put it. (Suggestions appreciated). I'll also refrain from telling him what color his aura is, though I see it clearly.
Anyway. This isn't about me- it is meant to be about the kids. So imagine my surprise when I can see that the kids get it. They see it. At least the older two. The oldest can see and hear spirits. The second is amazing at energy, and emotional interpretation. Amazing might not be the right way to put it right now, as it currently floods her. But it will be her super power. It is my superpower. So what can I do, but discuss it with her. Not in the "hippy-dippy terms" as Brendan would put it. But in a way that helps her know herself. Help her love her self.
In stressful times, she runs. When there is a loving person, someone who is gentle of spirit, she loves that person. She is the kid at the playground that everyone wants to play with. If she sees you radiating negativity (eg: WHO COLORED ON THE WALL?!) she crumples into tears. She is emotionally sensitive. She doesn't want to disappoint. She wants the entire world to be happy, to love her, to get along. I know this burden all too well. She would sacrifice to make peace. She would lie to avoid disappointment. She would hug instead of hit. But push her, and she is dangerous. Hurt her, and she will remember.
Sound familiar? That's me. Doesn't help that she looks strikingly like a mini me also. So we talk. We share. We challenge eachother. I tell her: you are big emotion. Your highs are high and your lows are low. We need help to keep it more even. If someone else is radiating negative energy, stay away from their cloud. Don't absorb it.
When she is so silly, we discuss how I one time laughed so hard that cherry malt came out my nose. Cherries and all. And then, the next day - I was telling the story about the cherries and laughed so hard that pickle skin came out my nose. Perhaps learning from the first time, keeping a little emotional reserves for the 10-30 minutes post malt might have been a smarter option. Did the ability to produce produce from my nasal passages limit my junior high friendships? Not a bit. We would go wave at people on Grand Avenue, those that responded positively to my positive gesture, I thhrew pennies at. It is very strange. I can't explain it, but it actually hurt my feelings when people didn't wave back.
Anyway, with these stories - she watches me now. Not simply to catch the next time I might make produce come out my nose (hasn't happened since 10th grade) but to help remind me to keep things from getting too exciting. To remind me that there is no way that I can make all six people in my family happy at every moment of every hour. And I watch her. We are on the big emotions team you see.
There is also the lying. It isnt malicious. She will tell a lie for one of two reasons. A) to not be wrong, which might cause you to be disappointed in her (the disappointment is key) or B) to make you feel better about a bad situation that she cannot fix before you see it. Me too. It is a sensitive dance. If I "punish" her for lying, it comes with dissapointment. Dissapointment is the very thing that the lie was likely put in place to avoid. When we talk about it, we have the opportunity to go back further than the lie, to the tigger point and work on unpacking that situation to see if there was an opportunity to make choices that would avoid the "need" to lie.
I have no idea if this is a good strategy. I feel it is closer to how I manage my instinct to lie. Avoid the situation where you would feel the need to. You can do this by making decisions that you can be proud of. Said another way: "if you can't tell your grandma you are doing it, you probably shouldn't do it." The second part: trying to avoid people being disapointed in you - that one is tough. It takes time. My mother still has a note I wrote, long after it was even appropriate to attempt, that my dog - in very complicated fashion- ate my homework. It's true. To my 9th or 10th grade history professor. In my teenage handwriting. "Signed" by my mother. The.dog.ate.my.homework. It's ok to laugh.
You know what I missed out on? History. I am just now, at 34, realizing that history is amazing. I want to know more. I missed out on a lot. I didn't do my assignment. True. But I didn't have enough emotional intellegance or bravery to embrace my decision and simply say: "I didn't do it and I am prepared to pay the consequences." I didn't want him to be mad. I didn't want my mom to be mad. I didn't want anyone to know that I didn't know what I was supposed to do. So I didn't do it then, and avoided the subject and the embarrassment of it for years and years. I don't like to make mistakes.
So, little Ms. Big Emotion and I are going to learn about what it means to read others emotions. We are going to talk about the strengths that come with this superpower (I know the best time to ask people particular questions) and the downfall (I can tell someone is upset with me, even if they are trying to hide it or get over it). We are going to talk about lying, about how it delays the dissapointment, but enhances it once the lie is uncovered. We are going to help eachother to love, to cry, and to face our problems. Most importantly, we are going to side step our triggers, whenever possible.
Now come on, come give us a hug. We know you want one anyway.
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