Lessons Learned- Being A Medium
My name is Cheyenne, and I’ve been a medium for as long as I can remember, and before. Before I was born, a psychic told my mother that I would be different when I was born, and that I would need her help to deal with it.
My name is Cheyenne, and I’ve been a medium for as long as I can remember, and before. Before I was born, a psychic told my mother that I would be different when I was born, and that I would need her help to deal with it. Being a medium herself, my mother assumed that I would be, and also that this is what the woman must have meant. They were right, of course, and I spent my childhood learning to deal with sight and most importantly and strictly, learning how to hide my sight from those around me.
When I was very small, I wasn’t able to tell the difference between a spirit and someone else. I would see and hear them as clearly as I could hear and see my parents. I met my then passed great grandmother at a very early age, and several other relatives that came and still come to visit my mother. My mother, after years of training, had and has learned to block them out almost entirely. I was not so inclined- Some of them were my friends, and I was not afraid of them. I was happy to talk to them, and happy to have them around, to the point where I would purposely invite spirits that I would see when out with my parents home with me.
But as I got older, I began to see a new side to sight- and to realize that it wasn’t spirits my mother was bothered by, but the repercussions that came from people around us who didn’t understand. One of the most striking experiences I’ve ever had came from my own grandmother, who was a kind, loving woman of the Catholic faith. We called her every week on Sunday from the pay phone near our house, because she lived a long distance away and we were only living at the home we had at the time for a few weeks, so my mother did not feel the need to pay for a phone line to be installed.
That Sunday, my mother called her as usual, and I waited with my back pressed against the glass of the phone box, making faces at my great grandmother, who had come with us from the house. She was a lovely woman, and used to tell me stories about my mother when she was a kid. After my mother spoke to my grandmother, it was my turn. She gave me the phone, and I began to chatter on at my grandmother as I usually did about the tulips in the garden, the things I had learned at school, the field trip we had gone on earlier in the week, and everything that could come to mind. This time, my great grandmother got my attention, and told me to say hello from her. Which I did. The reaction was instantaneous. The phone line went completely dead. After a few minutes, my grandmother said I couldn’t have a message from her, as she had passed. I explained that yes I could, and that I could see lots of dead people. I remember looking up at my mother’s shocked face, and then suddenly, my grandmother was screaming at me. I, as young as I was, had never really been yelled at before and certainly had never been told I was a liar or any of the other strong words that my grandmother said to me. Then, she told me to give my mother the phone.
We were at the phone box for another hour at least, while my mother argued with my grandmother in an increasingly desperate tone before she finally hung up and rushed me home. She packed two bags, and we went to stay at my aunt’s house that night. It wasn’t until later in life that I found out that my mother had rushed me out of there, because my grandmother had said that she was going to have the mental health authority come and take me into the hospital for a mental evaluation. After that, the rules regarding my sight became very strict. I was not to talk to people in the street. I was not to acknowledge someone if they spoke to me. I was to look ahead and keep going, even if they knew my name. I was not to talk to anyone, except for a few people including my mother and a few aunts and uncles, about my sight and the people I could see.
And most importantly, I had to try to learn not to see them. Even with these rules, I found ignoring or not seeing them nearly impossible, to the point that I began to sneak out at night and any time I could to go and play with people in the graveyard. And as I got older, my sight began to change, so that I would sleepwalk and do things they told me to. The rules changed with me, and I learned, eventually, everything I needed to know to completely hide my sight while managing the reality of living with it myself. To practice, I began refusing to interact with spirits completely, even at home and in private..
Despite my mother’s efforts to keep me happy within the situation, I began to feel isolated, especially when my refusal to interact with people began to make them angry. As a teenager, I told three of my closest friends about it, and was encouraged by their enthusiastic reactions. When I was 18, I began to write Horror genre work, mainly inspired by or about the spirits I knew, and, slowly became brave enough to admit I was a medium in public- online and off. When I did, I found that I was certainly not alone, or even particularly unique.
No longer isolated, I have made it my mission since to help others, whether they are sensitive or not, who are bothered by or who are curious about the paranormal. I believe that no one should have to feel isolated by the paranormal, and I hope to bring the issue out into the open.