How it All Started

 

It all started with a hurricane.

 This bi polar twat technically hit Alabama...twice.

This bi polar twat technically hit Alabama...twice.

Yes, a hurricane. Don't get me wrong. I was an intuitive child, but it wasn't my intuition that lead me to becoming a psychic and embracing the spiritual world. It was Hurricane Ivan back in 2004, when I was a senior in high school. 

I was 17, and living with a (very) controlling mother at the time in Central Alabama. We had a lot of diseased, old, tall trees in our yard. So when the hurricane hit, one punctured a hole in our roof, splintering a beam and causing water damage to my room (and my sister's) in the process. my sister and I had to move downstairs into the basement until construction was finished. 

 Almost this creepy.

Almost this creepy.

Even though it was nice being that much farther away from a hovering mother, sleeping in the basement was actually pretty creepy. Most of the younger kids that came over didn't like our basement, and you always felt like something was watching you. It always seemed a bit darker down there, too. Neither my sister nor I stayed down there for any extended period of time in the 12 years we lived in that house...until we had to sleep down there. 

Then the weird stuff started happening. Like scratches on my sister in places she couldn't reach, and growling noises. I would hear growling noises in my ear when I went to bed, and began having frequent nightmares. I would often wake up with sleep paralysis and a heaviness on my chest and hips. I had never experienced growling (or any odd noises for that matter) when going to bed at night before, and only very rarely experienced sleep paralysis. I started to dread going to bed, and would sometimes stay up to the point of exhaustion before I could coax myself to bed. I would get anxiety at the thought of going to bed, and would not sleep well at night when I did. I often woke up tired and drained. If my sister experienced these things as well, she never said anything—but she quickly moved upstairs as soon as she could.

  The Nightmare , by Henry Fuseli (1781)

The Nightmare, by Henry Fuseli (1781)

I however, was much more stubborn. The floors in our rooms weren't finished (just new floorboards were installed—with splinters abound—but not the carpet)...and my mother was the type of person that wasn't interested in investing in anything that wasn't absolutely necessary. To her, the carpets weren't necessary. I knew if I moved upstairs, I would never have carpet in my room. So I stayed in the basement, partly out of a yearning for teenage freedom, and partly because I knew it was incentive for my mother to put carpeting back in my room (because she didn't like me being in the basement, out of her controlling grasp). 

What I didn't realize at the time was our basement had a poltergeist...and after my sister moved back upstairs, thing got worse. Paranormal incidents increased and occurred on a daily basis. I was hearing voices in my head that weren't mine (I had already been hearing them since I was an early teen, but they became more frequent and intense when I moved into the basement). I was constantly drained. I developed symptoms of depression, on top of being a full-time college student by this point (the fact that I lived in that basement for 2 years blows my mind—no clue how I lasted that long). My mother blew it off as my imagination, and didn't take me seriously. I was starting to go quietly insane. 

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Once I realized my mother didn't believe me and wasn't going to help, I turned to the internet for solutions. Now, the internet wasn't exactly that spectacular back in 2006 (who remembers MySpace?) but I did find help and answers. I first looked for scientific solutions, but couldn't find anything that could explain the sudden onset of growling and sleep paralysis. Then, I hesitantly, and cautiously, began looking at paranormal websites. Keep in mind, I was raised in a very religious household in the Heart of Dixie, and vividly remember being scared of getting into trouble (with God!) for going to a remotely metaphysical website. Then I began to build up the courage to search for answers metaphysically. I remember feeling less scared the more I searched—I felt it was God nudging me to solve the problem, and telling me that it's OK to seek metaphysical answers outside of church.

...And found answers I did. I eventually found an online metaphysical support group, of sorts. I know, I know. In hindsight it wasn't the brightest idea to get help from complete strangers in a chatroom...but hey, I was desperate. Luckily, I met good people that were able to help. They purged the poltergeists (yes, two!). When the nightmares and sleep paralysis stopped, I realized there was actually something to metaphysics. I was dumbfounded, fascinated and hooked. The years of suffering I endured were stopped in an instant by someone states away. So I continued to do my research and asked questions. I began learning about energy, and quickly discerned its validity. Energy was real. 

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Soon afterwards, I met a wonderful tarot reader at a haunted house, and we ended up becoming fast friends. She taught me tarot and helped me trust my intuition more. I learned from her how to find a balance between my spirituality and religious beliefs. The two weren't mutually exclusive—I could keep my religious beliefs and explore my spiritualism. I even worked up the courage to move in with my loving father, the more stable parent. 

From there, the rest is history. My interest in and knowledge of metaphysics grew, as did my practice. What's funny about spirituality/metaphysics/magic/energy—whatever you want to call it—is that it finds you. The more you seek it, the more it immerses itself in your life. The more it becomes a part of your existance. I also learned the more I respected it, the more it respected me. 

 

 
Amy Baldis