"Owning My Nature"

Posted by Melissa Milne on

"An Intuitive’s Discovery of Self-Acceptance"

I know what I am.

I’ve known since I was a girl, but I didn’t know how to say it, before now.

I’ve always been drawn to the elements, aspects of nature as if it were food. I can feel the breath of what is, hear it’s song that is silent to the human ear. I feel an expansiveness grow beyond my skin when I am in this connected state.

In the quiet moments of my childhood, I felt a communication with rocks, soil, trees, animals. I never even had to think about whether or not God, spirit, higher power, was present. It just was. No one taught me this, at least not intentionally. I used to fall asleep with my hands in prayer position on my chest, and wake that way in the morning. I must have been no more than 10 at the time. I would collect rocks in my yard, and keep them in my room. They felt like they were my friends.

I’ve read Tarot cards for as long as I can remember as if it was normal. I used to bring my cards to school daily, and in my 6th-grade study hall, read them for kids who asked. I read every book I could that had a connection to the mystical.

I’ve never felt a part of mundane, social norms. I’ve always looked at people acting normally as if they ‘got it’. But I don’t. I feel lost in concrete, traffic, and technology. It’s through great effort that I’ve come to understand how to work a computer and cell phone (the basics). I’ve learned to thrive in the modern world, because I’m a survivor, but it doesn’t feel like ‘me’. My soul always feels drawn to the trees. I feel a pull, like gravity or a flowing creek, toward healing, calm, nature. I feel drawn to people’s hurts in the same way. I can see it in them, feel it behind the mask of social interactions. I can see where they block themselves from change, where they are energetically or emotionally stuck.

They don’t really want to know, most of them. Those who do want to change, usually find me. My clients often don’t know what to call me. My certifications and licenses have never quite explained what I do. Previously I was either too shy or confused to call myself what I am. But not any longer.

I’m a healer. An intuitive.

I always have been. I see (feel) things that are not in the tangible layer of reality. I see what people don’t want to tell others, things they’re too ashamed of, things they don’t have words for…even while they thirst to be heard and understood. I don’t see secrets or hear facts unless the person is in great need, and they’re energetically open. When someone’s loved one dies, I reach out and find where the deceased is, see if they’re evolving into their next life quickly or slowly. I can see how old they are, and what they’re doing, in their after-life. If there’s a message they want to send (often they don’t), I will try to deliver it.

Possibly because I don’t operate by normal patterns of communication, or because I don’t understand social norms, I often get misinterpreted. It’s amazing how often people take offense to what I deem a loving action or statement. People are so defensive that they can’t see I come from love. I am drawn toward healing wounds, in relationships, in people. It’s challenging to be in a romantic relationship because if the man I’m with is not at peace on a soul level, I find it hard to relax into our love. I have not yet evolved to a point where I can let their soul hurts Be. Somewhere in my DNA, I’m programmed to fix. To seek out the unmended, to press it until it gives up and heals. I’ve often said that I’m stubborn, and that’s why I’m a successful healer. I cannot rest until the person in my care has mended the hurt, or come to terms with it.

It is a great weight off of my heart to see myself for what I am. To announce it. To forgive myself for not being like most others. True healing comes from an acceptance of self. It comes from letting go of the places where you’ve sequestered your wounds.

I do not fit in most social circles, and I’m finally celebrating that fact. I hereby let go of the judgments of those who didn’t, or don’t, understand me. I keep my distance from toxicity and feed myself with real connections, and with nature. I’m whole when I’m at peace with myself when I’m ready to say, out loud “I am this. I am.”

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