Childhood Memories: Powers of a Witch?

/in , /by

Andy: She was tall, dark, and of American Indian descent. She was athletic and very boyish in her demeanor, and looks. She played sports, and got along well with most people. While we were totally opposite in many respects, we became friends. It was eighth or ninth grade.

I think the commonality that cemented our friendship was we were both very down-to-earth people. Andy was real and genuine — and had a heart under her tomboy exterior.

I’ll never forget this one night Andy came over to spend the evening with me. My parents were out, and being the scardy cat that I was — I wanted a friend to keep me company — and Andy was more than happy to oblige.

I had somehow realized that I could read people pretty good — but I wasn’t 100% so I decided to test it out on Andy. Andy was honest and would tell me what she thought — so I figured why not. It would be harmless. I just wanted to see if I was right in my thinking.

Was I right in my beliefs that I knew who Andy really liked even though she was political and acted like she liked everyone? I believed I knew. I believed I could tell Andy who she really didn’t like, too. I also believed I could tell Andy which subjects and teachers were her favorite and which ones she disliked– without so much as a hint from her. Was I correct? I was dying to know!

When Andy came over, we went into the basement and we got to talking. I said to Andy, “I bet I can tell you what you really think about your friends. I bet I can tell you who you really like, and who you don’t, and why. Want to see?“

Andy looked at me like I was a fool, but that didn’t stop me. I started talking….

“You act like you like Janet, but you really don’t, do you? She’s too prissy and snobby for you though you admire her athletic abilities. You do like Jen and Jane. They are really cool in your eyes, aren’t they? You’d like to hang out with them a lot more. That’s very clear- – but you really have no use for Jackie or Beth though you are nice to them. They drive you nuts with their non-stop chatter and high-pitched laughter, don’t they? They get on your nerves. You’d also really like to be friends with Julie, wouldn’t you? I can see all of that about you.

Andy’s face dropped. She couldn’t believe what I had just said. She looked left and then she looked right, and asked me with a puzzled look, “How do you know this stuff?”

You could see insecurity pour over her yet she tried to play it cool.

“Am I right? Am I right?”, I asked. I was getting a strong vibe that I was by the look in her eyes.

She retorted back, “Are you psychic?? Are you?! You’re starting to freak me out. Tell me, how do you know ALL of this stuff?!”

We both laughed at this point. Me, giddy with excitement that I was likely pretty good at this – – and her from fear. She was not digging this, but I didn’t know the half of it.

“Let me tell you more!”, I said. I was doing it all in good fun. “Do you want to know who Barb really likes? I can see this stuff. I’ll share it with you. She’s never told me, but I can see it. I really can.”

I went on to babble for another five or so minutes and also told Andy which teachers and subjects I suspected Andy liked and disliked. Andy stood there looking at me, almost with a blank stare as she took it all in. But as she listened, she slowly started stepping backwards — away from me. I followed behind as I rambled in my excitement oblivious to what was to come.

Once Andy had reached the stairs, she made her escape away from me. She fled upstairs as fast as she could. She looked around and thought of fleeing. Yet I hadn’t quite figured that out. She had a natural instinct to run — far away from me but it was nighttime, dark and her house was too far to walk to.

“How do you know this stuff? Tell me!! You’re really freaking me out!” She demanded to know as she glanced at the sliding door.

“I just do,” I said. “Maybe I am psychic, I don’t know.” I shrugged my shoulders eager to go on.

“Maybe you’re a witch!!” she said. “Maybe that’s it.” Her eyes were wide open at this point, fixated on my every move.

Mind you I was little and she was the big towering one of the two of us. She was a tomboy. She was the athlete. She couldn’t truly be afraid of me, I reasoned.

But something bothered me about being called a WITCH. I wasn’t evil. I wasn’t mean. I was sharing a big secret I had with HER. I was giving her inside information. How I would have loved someone to do the same for me! I believe I would think it would have been cool to be in her shoes, but she wasn’t so cool with it.

Getting frustrated by her strange belief that I was a witch, I grabbed Andy’s arm in kindness to get her attention and to tell her I wasn’t psychic nor a witch and when I did — static electricity got her — and shocked her. It sent her over the edge. I wasn’t at all prepared for what came next.

“Oh my god,” she said. “You ARE A WITCH!!!!. You have magical powers! What was that blue stuff? Was that energy? Are you beaming me? Are you going to control me?!! OH. MY. GOD! Help me.” Andy looked around unsure of what her next move should be.

I quickly realized that Andy had never seen static electricity before because her house had all wood floors. It was funny. I laughed and then I tried to explain what it was — that it was static electricity — but Andy didn’t listen. Terror took over and I lost Andy’s sanity.

Andy went into a survival mode and no amount of talking or logic was going to get through to her. I repeated, I am not a witch. I have no super-natural powers. I tried to tell her it was all a joke, I was just sharing what I saw, to calm down — but it was fruitless.

My friend Andy found an out. She LOCKED herself in my bathroom. She found a safe place to escape my fury. She feared I might turn her into a toad, or something. I don’t know.

I was mortified.

She cowered in the corner of my bathroom afraid to move out of fear of what I would do to her. She told me she had never heard of whatever that electricity was, and no matter what I said, she was always going to be convinced I was a witch with super-natural powers.

I was desperate on the other side of the door to get through to Andy with the truth — but no matter what I said, she was convinced I had created energy and shocked her on purpose and that I had the power to zap her into anything my heart desired. After all, I could read her thoughts!

I was quite pleased with my abilities but that feeling had fleeted. Now I was worried about Andy and angry at the prospect of being called a witch! I knew my parents were due home and if I didn’t get Andy out of the bathroom, I was going to be in BIG TROUBLE!! How would I ever explain this one to my parents???? I got queasy at the thought. I felt so horrible and deceptive — when I was just being honest!

I also didn’t like the feeling that I had hurt Andy. I didn’t understand it at that point. How come she was so sensitive? I mean, I was just a plain Jane. I was smaller, less popular, less athletic. What was up with her?? I was not prepared for this reaction at all. I actually looked up to her like a big sister.

I got so desperate to get Andy out, I was finally in tears! Nothing worked and I lost it. I started crying now, too, because when I needed to get through to Andy, I was unable. Her fear had taken control and they weren’t going to relinquish her to me no matter what I did. And my fear of punishment took over, too –and the two of us were a mess — each sobbing on different sides of the door — for very different reasons both of which resulted in fear.

I felt awful! Why did this have to happen this way? Why was she being so crazy, I wondered. I figured this girl must have issues. Little did I know, I was the one with issues!

After an hour of relentless begging, I finally got Andy to open to the door– thankfully before my parents came home. Andy never looked at me the same again, and left shortly thereafter very skeptical of me. No amount of explanation or apology worked. Even a dictionary clearly defining static electricity fell on blind eyes and deaf ears. I begged Andy to ask any adult about static electricity and she would see clearly for herself I was honest. I had no natural powers.

For months after that, Andy refused to be alone with me, and glared at me with big distrusting eyes. I will never forget that day for as long as I live… It was the first time I had a hint I could read people really well– though I didn’t quite know the extent of it for many years to come.

How do I do this? Most often, I use paralleling and I obviously did it long before I could explain it.

Here is another funny story from my childhood. Go figure, my favorite card game was lie. Who knew? Eyes-for-Lies Child

The Difficult Side

/in /by

I have been given an incredible gift in life — the ability to understand people, and hence see lies most of the time. If you asked me if this ability made my life easier, I would have to tell you there is no debate about it. The answer is yes: hands-down. Having this ability helps me connect and understand people very quickly. It helps me navigate life with a keen sense. It gives me confidence because I feel I can connect with just about anyone, if I choose. I am fearless in the pursuit of my goals because I see no limitations. I trust without worry — knowing that I will likely see the flags of concern before they are detrimental to my life. These are truly gifts that I am blessed with due to my ability.

But with all positives, there are negatives like the good old Chinese philosophy says: With every yin, there is a yang — but thankfully my yang is not evil as believed in the American interpretation. Rather my yang is painful.

What is this negative, you ask?

It’s easiest to describe as “a sixth perceptive sense”. I don’t know if it a sixth sense — but that’s what I’ll call it. This sense, like hearing and seeing, picks up on the emotions of those around me. Just walking past someone in the store, I pick up on their true inner feelings.

All my life, I have always felt like I was a walking sponge — soaking up the emotions of all of those who pass me by. Most of all, I pick up on the sadness in the world. And while I do pick up on happiness, too, I am sad to report — it is not the common emotion among us.

An ordinary outing for me can be painful unless I distract my mind away from it, and if I don’t want to see it, I really have to work on staying distracted or focused. There isn’t an outing that I don’t go on where I don’t pick up on the emotions. It’s a daily occurrence, and at times, it can be overwhelming. If I could turn off this perceptive ability, there are days and weeks that I would do it for relief, but unfortunately, I can’t. It’s the curse of the gift.

One recent example that stands out strong in my mind was an outing to Walmart. It was the day before Christmas, and Walmart was buzzing with activity. You’d think it would have been a happy outing. If so, you’d be mistaken.

I was happy, in a good mood and accompanied by my husband, finishing up the last few remaining tasks before our celebration. As we looked for Christmas tree bulbs to replace our burnt out ones from the storm that drained their life the night before, we passed aisle after aisle.

I happened to pass by the candy aisle as I cut across the store. When I did, I was cut off by someone else and I came face-to-face with an older gentlemen several feet into the aisle, worn by the difficulties of life, looking at the chocolates before him. He had gray, touseled hair. He was dressed in worn clothes, and wore dirt as if it were an accessory to his attire. Perhaps he worked a hard-labor job, though he was certainly old enough to have been retired. Our eyes met for a second, and the desperation I saw in his eyes ripped at my heart. It was gut-wrenching.

In those few seconds as I stood waiting for the person who just cut me off to vacate the premises, I saw before me a man desperate to find something — anything — to prove to that special someone that he did in fact love her — perhaps in spite of his actions. However, he was fruitless in his search. He needed or wanted to prove to her he cared, but he wasn’t able to come up with anything he knew would be acceptable. Panic tore at the core of his being. Christmas was tomorrow. He was at the end of his emotional rope. He so wanted to please her, but didn’t know how, and time was ticking way too fast for him. The pressure was building, and he was feeling the failure of his mission. He was living the consequences of what he knew was at his doorstep if he didn’t come up with the gift, and that was the desperation I saw. I could feel it. It was palpable, all within seconds.

Perhaps he was given an ultimatum. I don’t know. I could just see the sheer desperation of his situation in his eyes, in his body language and demeanor. And it was in that flash-of-a-second that I passed that aisle – that another man entered the aisle from behind me — and both men’s eyes met. For a second I could see the hope of this man as he wishfully thought just maybe this guy will have the answer, but it dashed off of his face as fast as it came.

I felt for this man and his relationship. It was likely in trouble, and he knew it. I knew it.

Fast forward another minute…

I then went passed the toy aisle and as I did, I saw a man glancing at children’s toys, pushing a cart with few toys inside. He was alone. He was simply dressed, perhaps in his 30s. His face expressed sadness, and a sense of being overwhelmed. He was clearly indecisive as his eyes glanced the stack of toys before him. He slowly pushed a cart as he starred at the toys thinking about what was to come, oblivious to anyone around him. He was lost in his own world. He was down, dreading the soon-to-arrive holiday.

I noticed this in the seconds it took to walk past this man. I did not stop to watch him.

Was he recently divorced? Grieving the loss of his spouse? Was this his first Christmas where he had to pull all the magical strings of Christmas for his children, and the thought was overwhelming him?? Or was it budget constraints, or fears the gifts wouldn’t be good enough? I don’t know the answer, but I do know this night for this man was anything but happy and joyous. If you pulled this man aside and talked to him, he’d have a lots of painful things to share with you, of which I would suspect, was a failed marriage. The let-downs of his life… divorce, maybe even death, being a single parent– I can only guess at that — but the pain was real and stabbing. His emotions jabbed at me in a flash.

I continued on.

I finally got my bulbs and headed for the cash register. We had been at Walmart all of five minutes. When I got to the register, a mother and her three children came into the line behind us. The children’s hair was matted, uncombed and looked worn, if that is at all possible. Their clothes were due for a washing. Perhaps this day mom took a day off and just let kids be kids. I can only guess.

Her eldest daughter, who was about 10, was holding the credit card in her fingers, twirling it with delight. That alone was quite intriguing. Most 10-year-olds don’t care much about credit cards, but this girl knew exactly what it meant! She was happy because she was getting new clothes — clothes which I presume were her Christmas gifts. Gifts that she had to pick out, but she wasn’t sad. She was radiantly happy–singing and dancing as she played with what laid before her.

But when you looked deeper, you could clearly see that youth was lost to her world. She was forced to be mature and to grow up. She was already wise to life’s hardships and the dangers that lurk in our world. This 10-year-old knew Santa wasn’t coming to her house tomorrow night. She was leaning over the conveyor belt, playing with the clothes still on the hanger — dreaming of her new fashion-statement when mom yelled at her with some snide remark and snapped the credit card out of her hand. I don’t remember the remark, but it cut through me like glass. It caused me to look closer at the family,and what I saw could paint a thousand pictures.

The mom was a single mom, or had a husband who didn’t help her do anything. Perhaps he was an addict of sorts. He only dragged her world down, if he existed in her universe at all. Mom carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, wondering day-to-day if she was going to be able to feed her kids, pay the bills and make it to work. New clothes didn’t come often. They were rare — for her and the kids — and it became very clear that this was the big Christmas spree.

These were the gifts of Christmas because mom didn’t have the time nor the energy to give more, to wrap presents, to just be happy and enjoy life. Christmas was going to be like every other day at this house because mom needed a day off. She needed a soft place to land, and she didn’t have one. She was worn out, haggard and exhausted from simply existing. Holidays were a luxury she couldn’t indulge.

In quick micro-bursts, as I walked across Walmart, I was hit with a barrage of strong emotions in a matter of seconds to minutes. I picked up on the emotions of strange people who I did not know, but their familiar faces told me stories, their expressions, mood, attire and character further filled in the details of their difficult lives. A fleeting smile often gives way to more painful realities of life. It flashes quickly in front of me, and then I cope with the pain I see, unable to fix it or make it better.

So you see, there isn’t a place I can go to in the world where I don’t encounter the true story behind the individual. It’s there before me, like the rain on a gray day. I see so much more than the average person, and often times the story that is told to me on the faces that look my way is painful, difficult and challenging for the stranger with whom I see, and me.

Often, I get down and I feel helpless. I can’t take away the pain or fix it. I can’t even make it better. I just get bear witness to it all, however unfair that is for them, and me. That is why I have big desire to use my talents for the good of people, to improve people’s lives. I want to take this ability and do something good with it. I want to help people understand other people — to not judge — but to understand. Using this talent for the good, helps balance the yin and yang, for me and that’s what I truly desire.

* * *
I also pick up on the feelings of animals, as well. I can tell you immediately when I meet a dog if he is happy or sad — loved or neglected — just by the expression in his eyes and on his face. Dogs are very expressive as well. If only all people could see that…

Intentions

/in , /by

One of my readers has brought up a very good point: Do I read people intentionally? Do I set out to go to a party, with the intent to read people, and spot lies?

It’s an interesting question, because that is what most people probably do when they try to read someone else, they do it intentionally. I would guess, when the average person wonders if someone is lying, they tune into their observations, focus and watch with intent.

But I do not focus or watch with intent–90% of the time.

It just when you see a smile, I happen to see the falseness behind that smile. Or when you see someone saying they are doing well, I’ll see a flash of a pain that tells me otherwise. I can’t stop it, or turn it off. It’s as visible, to me, like the light of day.

When someone is telling you a story, and you are casually listening, so am I, but unlike most people, a red flag will pop out at me that the choice of words that person is using is odd, and out-of-place. It will feel strange to me. I can’t stop or change it. It’s who I am. It’s how I perceive the world.

For me, I am just as casual and relaxed as you are when I converse or watch people. I’m not prepared for, or expecting, a lie. It’s just that I see these hidden flashes of emotions, get these pangs that something isn’t jiving, or see these little red flags that something isn’t right. They usually pop up out of the blue. The information often blind-sides me most of the time. I’m not expecting it. I don’t focus to see it. It’s just there, before me, like a smile or a frown, so obvious to anyone watching.

Now granted, there are times when a casual conversation or encounter will pop up read flags in my mind, and I DO take note of them and consciously tune in. If I find value in the red flag, find I am personally involved, or someone I love is involved, then I may very well tune myself into high gear to really observe that person on a deeper level, but that is rare for me. Most of the time in my personal life, I don’t care too much about it. The lies are not important. I spot them, realize their source, instantaneously, and move on.

Ironically, I never set out to see lies. Rather, for me, I always set out to see the truth, and by the truth, I mean I set out to truly understand people. I always want to get to know the “real person” behind the exterior of society. Who are you, really?

I crave the truth, ironically: Not lies.

Another reason I know it is not a conscious choice for me to see lies is because in order to spot lies, you have to be highly attuned to other people’s emotions. I am highly attuned by my genetic make-up, to the point that I pick up on so much PAIN, at times, in the world around me, it’s almost unbearable. If I could turn it off, god knows there would be weeks and months where I would do it! I’ll write more about this in a coming post.

Emotional Overdrive

/in , /by

I planned a get together for some friends this weekend. I was really looking forward to it, wanted to make sure everyone had fun, and enjoyed themselves.

We met up with eight friends (four more of which had to cancel due to the nasty flu that is going around) and we enjoyed some casual yet great home-style Mexican food. After that, we went to a local pub, had a drink and headed to our reserved lanes at the bowling alley to try something new: cosmic bowling. Have you tried it?

Cosmic bowling is when they turn the lights down low, add a fluoresces to things, put on spinning lights with cool designs that spatter the floor and walls, and turn up some hip music. The funny thing was our nearly 40 crowd didn’t recognize any of the “hip” music! That dated us LOL.

But the irony of the whole experience was I so wanted to make sure everyone was enjoying themselves and when I tried to read them — I was flat stone-walled by my own abilities. My lie”dar” — which is also a great people reader — flat wouldn’t register other people’s true emotions. It fuzzed over, hazed and wouldn’t give a read!! I found myself relying on face-value judgments which left me in the dark, frustrated and like a blind man trying to see without his glasses. No amount of scrutinizing brought a clearer image!

At times, I would spot a genuine smile — and I knew for that instant someone was having fun — say when they bowled a strike — but that didn’t tell me if they were really having fun all evening.

I half-expected this would happen. I’ve learned over the years that if I am emotionally-invested in an outcome of something, my abilities wane, dramatically. Realistically, my emotions override my logical abilities and I am unable to differentiate between my emotional desires and the true outcome — and I second guess myself. I have doubts and I am not sure what I am seeing. When we, me or anyone is emotional — your ability to see things clearly is not dependable.

I think I’ve become hyper-aware of my emotions and I realize when they kick in. We all have this emotional overdrive (which hits us at varying degrees depending on the circumstances)– I just don’t know how many people are aware of it and explain it like I do.

There are times when my emotional overdrive kicks in and I AM able to consciously work to shut it down and focus on the true logic at hand. I can do it– but it takes time and LOTS of effort. And frankly, Saturday night I wanted to have fun so I let things be. I floated along in the fog of wonder!

So when the lie detector most wants to know something personal — affecting her — for which she is emotionally invested — guess what? There are times when I am just like the rest of the world! I must rely on face value emotions. Boy do I hate that! I feel so handicapped.

I did have one of our friends in the car on the way home with us — who is way better than average at reading people — so I spilled my guts to him — and got his take. He was certain everyone had a good time and would do it again. I’ll just have to trust him and take his word for it.

I hate when that happens…

Are you aware of your emotional overdrive short-circuiting your logic?

Conversations

/in /by

When I converse with people, some times I find myself putting on the other person’s shoes (so-to-speak). I instantaneously try to become that person in my mind’s eye (mostly with strangers). I try to think as if I were in the other person’s surroundings — as if I were the other person. I try to understand how I would think and feel, if I were them.

I try to listen to what I am saying as if I were the receiver — before I say it, when I say it and after I say it. I try to understand how what I am saying will come across and be perceived. I attempt to anticipate the emotional responses I will get too — to judge if I have connected to someone. Sometimes I anticipate a couple of responses because I am unsure and I wait for an outcome- not knowing what will come back at me.

Anticipating the response is something I’ve always done, yet something I’ve never set out to consciously do. It’s just who I am. It’s just what I do, innately.

For example, if I met a waitress, I would try to imagine what it would be like to be her. When I would speak to her, I would try to envision myself being a waitress — to try to understand what her perspective might be like, what her perceptions might be, what might influence her thoughts…

It isn’t that I am concerned about what others think about me. Nothing could be further from the truth. It’s more that I want to understand the other person — and relate to them in a way that we both can understand. I try to find a matching plane, so-to-speak — a commonality: More so, an understanding. I want to understand the other person I am conversing with.

Naturally, I don’t always get it right — but I never give up trying.

I think this innate inter-working of my being is what makes me know people so well. I don’t assume that people know or feel what I do. I am always trying to understand, experience and feel their world, instead.

Do you do this? Do you relate to this?