Raised By Spirit Chapter One

Everything that I will talk about in this series is based on real-life experiences I've had, combined with the intuitive guidance and knowledge I've received at that moment in time. This is the story of my journey and how I was Raised by Spirit and those on the other side.

Transcript

Everything that I will talk about is based off of experiences that I've had,

Combined with intuitive knowledge I've received at that moment in time.

Hopefully,

While sharing my journey with you,

I will be able to shed some light,

And you will see that I am but a reflection of you,

And we are but a reflection of our creators.

I was advised that my journey and the gifts divinely designed to be within my experience,

Grants me the ability to show others how divinely connected and divinely designed we all are.

I am by design a warrior of love and a seeker of truth,

And we'll get to what that means and why I word it in that specific way.

But just a friendly reminder before we get started,

Even though I have my journey of awareness and level of my own enlightenment,

What you must remember is,

Just because others are at a different point of their journey,

Doesn't mean that anybody is better than another.

We are a collective.

We are designed to work together and independently.

That's the beauty of diversity and the soul's journey.

We're all in the right place,

At the right time,

With the right people.

Now,

I know what some of you might be thinking.

The right people?

The right place?

Yeah,

Right.

But just keep listening,

And I promise you'll understand.

Raised by spirit.

As far back as I can remember,

As early as three or four years old,

I can recall receiving paragraphs of intuitive information and messages that would take longer for me to actually interpret than it would for me to receive them.

This is what we call claircognizant.

It's a knowing,

An instantaneous knowing of information.

New Agers will call this downloads,

And from the beginning,

I have always been guided in this way.

Starting with my great grandmother and Cherokee native Cora,

She communicates with me in the form of knowing,

Seeing,

Hearing,

And sensing spiritual information.

Of course,

It took many years for me to validate the majority of information I was receiving from her,

But again,

We'll get to that.

At such a young age,

It was the assumption that kind of knowing was normal.

And the same applies in the areas of where I would receive premonition through dreams,

Visions,

Or we like to call them daydreams.

I've always been sensitive to energies,

Both physical and spiritual.

I was an extremely sensitive child,

But right around 12 years old,

It kind of became abundantly clear to me that I was different than most people around me.

With the truth seeking genetic makeup that I am designed and created with,

And that we all have,

This was when mine started to kick in fully.

I randomly asked my mother to buy me a dreamer's dictionary.

I knew there was much more to the dreams than them just being a part of my imagination.

I instinctually wanted to understand and be able to follow this guidance that I was given,

Even without knowing exactly where that guidance was coming from.

I knew it was important.

As time passed and friends and families began to transition from this life to the afterlife,

That was when I began to realize I could still communicate with them.

Naturally,

Through the programming and conditioning of all the things in the human experience,

Especially when it comes to spirituality,

Religion,

And science,

I was confused and very skeptical.

Nonetheless,

I took it upon myself to figure this out and the truth of what was occurring.

Not too long after looking into dream interpretations,

The day came when I asked my mother to get me a deck of playing cards and a notebook,

And I started to look up how to read tarot with a regular deck of playing cards.

I am definitely diligently designed,

So I began to write down all the meanings of the cards.

I researched all the spreads.

I researched everything revolving around tarot.

However,

Not much of it really resonated with me when it came to what most would call the writer white deck,

And we'll get to why,

As I found out later in life.

So I just stuck with what felt right,

And I taught myself how to read tarot on a regular deck of playing cards.

With the intent to learn tarot efficiently,

I was also guided to one particular tarot spread.

It was called the celestial spread,

Or as I like to call it today,

The yearly spread.

I found this really helpful in validating the dreams,

Visions,

Feelings,

Premonitions,

And conversations that I was having with the unseen spirit world,

So to speak.

I was unknowingly at the time learning the process to which life unfolds.

Most guidance,

Or perhaps self-guidance if you will,

Isn't generally information that is instant.

It's information that guides you through a particular moment in time,

Through a particular journey,

And the more I used tarot and the dream interpretation to validate what spirit was saying to me,

The more I proved to myself that I wasn't schizophrenic and I wasn't crazy.

I was just a little different than other people,

And I could understand the bigger picture of things and talk to people that most people might have to go through a little bit more of a learning process to tap into and understand.

It was at that point I started to accept that my maternal great-grandmother Cora was indeed guiding me,

And there were other guides that came through in my early childhood years,

One being Margaret,

Or Maggie.

This was Cora's daughter.

She was a major catalyst in validating I was indeed communicating with the spirit world simply because I knew her,

Or rather I should say we knew each other during the same life experience.

The third original childhood guide I had was a little different,

More difficult to validate I suppose.

His name was Orion.

You could call him my soul guide for understanding purposes,

But according to my understanding he and I are what you would call soul family.

More often than not when we incarnate we incarnate together,

Which kind of explained why I always missed a brother that I never had.

But in my experience with Orion,

This type of guide,

It's not like he was always there.

Rather he was there when I needed him.

Sometimes I would go years without seeing him.

And it wasn't until my early 20s,

Late 20s,

And again in my 30s did he really come through with more detailed soul information for me.

Again we must learn to trust the process.

Is it frustrating?

Yes.

However the fact of the matter is they aren't going to give you information.

You're not within a space to understand.

Regardless at this point,

I knew that my soul guide was Orion,

And he would come through to guide me along with the others,

And throughout time I grew less skeptical.

Blind faith turned into faith.

And for the record,

At such a young age I was guided intuitively,

Growing through the process of understanding the connections which are necessary to understand larger accumulations of karmic and genetic cycles of the self,

Humanity,

And the soul.

Technically I didn't openly read another person as a medium until I was in my mid-20s,

Because the reality was I didn't graduate to that level of awareness before then.

Speaking of which,

Let's talk about some of the life lessons that allowed me to graduate to the current level of awareness that I have obtained in regards to karmic and genetic cycles of the soul.

Chapter 1.

The Childhood Years.

As far as the details of my early childhood and family history,

It was me,

My sister,

Born six years before me.

My father,

Who was a huge positive impact in my life.

My mother,

On the other hand,

Well,

She's a whole other story.

My mother told myself and my sister many times that she was never meant to be a mother.

There was a lot of truth to that,

But there's also a lot of misunderstanding due to unhealed trauma she herself experienced as a child.

My mother grew up bouncing between Mississippi,

Tennessee,

North and South Carolina,

Florida,

And lastly,

Alabama.

She was one of seven children.

Her father was a Freemason and a preacher within the local community.

Her mother,

Margaret,

Well,

She was a mother.

There's little information in regards to my mother's upbringing.

There's a lot of questions as far as the type of family they grew up in.

There were stories that were told that my mother was extremely beautiful,

But she was very weird,

And I'll get to that.

The story goes that my grandfather passed away when my mother was just 12 on Christmas Eve because he choked on an orange peel.

They say that if he would have gotten to the hospital sooner,

Just by a few minutes,

That he would have survived.

There's also stories about him skipping work and hiding across the street to spy on my grandmother to make sure that she wasn't cheating on him.

Mind you,

The woman raised seven children on her own.

She never worked outside of the home a day in her life and never even had a driver's license.

My grandmother,

Margaret,

Was the baddest bitch you could even imagine and the backbone of her family.

That woman didn't tolerate any nonsense.

For years,

We lived with my grandmother and never once did I see a picture of her husband.

Never once were there stories told about him.

It was like he didn't exist.

Those are the only two stories we really know of.

It wasn't until my early 20s when I finally was introduced to my grandfather through spiritual communication.

The first thing he said to me,

Which didn't make sense at the time,

Was that he was sorry for how he treated my grandmother.

He said she didn't deserve to be treated that way,

And that he would like to be involved within my spiritual work.

And so he was.

My mother,

At a young age,

Wanted to follow in her father's footsteps.

She wanted to be a missionary.

She wanted to travel the world and spread God's word.

That's all she wanted to do.

Others would look at her like she was weird because she was socially awkward.

Literally,

She would hide from all the boys that wanted to date her.

And she was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous.

Five foot eight,

Blonde,

Thin,

And legs for days.

Nobody knew why she was never interested in dating.

She all of a sudden changed her life path when she met my father at 26.

Up until that point,

She stayed home and helped her mother take care of everything.

At the time,

My father was in the process of getting a divorce from a woman named Yvonne.

Everyone in my mother's family could not understand why my mother was so determined to be with my father when her entire life she had absolutely zero interest in men or dating.

Nonetheless,

My father divorced Yvonne once a paternity test ruled that Yvonne's child was not my father's child.

After that,

My mother followed my father everywhere.

Growing up,

We heard stories that my father didn't get along with my mother's side of the family and there was never any reason given as to why or what happened.

My mother would tell us that her family was jealous and mad at her because she was no longer there to take care of my grandmother.

That's about it.

Four years after my mom and dad got together,

They had my sister and when my mom was 36,

They had me.

When my mom was six months pregnant with me,

She dropped my sister off at my grandmother's house so that my grandmother could babysit and my mom went to work.

On her way to work,

In front of her was a logging truck.

The straps holding the logs malfunctioned and broke.

At that point,

A log went straight through the windshield through to the backseat where my sister just was.

My mom ended up having a total of seven slipped disks because of this accident.

I believe this was the downfall my mother encountered,

Crippling the ability and opportunity for her to heal the trauma that she encountered as a child that no one,

And I mean no one,

Ever knew about.

However,

Because we inherit genetically everything from our parents,

Especially our mother while we're in the womb,

I was passed down this genetic information and the trauma,

Not fully understanding my mother's unspoken childhood trauma until much later,

And we'll get there.

After I was born in the mid 80s,

That was when my mother was first prescribed painkillers,

Percocets to be exact,

To handle the pain of the seven slipped disks.

Now for all intents and purposes,

Remember that number.

Seven.

My early childhood years,

We lived with my mom's mom.

My grandmother did a lot of the raising and my sister,

Being six years older than me,

Took that responsibility on when my grandmother wasn't around.

Some of the best memories I have was going to church with my grandmother every Sunday,

Not because of what they were talking about,

But because of the music and the choir.

There is nothing like a southern church and their music.

Although I went to church every Sunday with my grandmother when we lived with her,

I never went to Sunday school,

Nor did I learn anything that they were teaching.

I literally just went to hear the music.

I remember my grandmother saying I would clap so hard along with the music and the choir that my hands would be beat red.

And one time I even received a plaque.

I still have it to this day.

It says,

Keep smiling.

It makes people wonder what you're up to.

When the church presented me with a plaque,

The pastor said,

Every Sunday when you attend,

It is your smile that shines bright and lights up the entire room.

But as far as God,

I was raised simply put,

Do good throughout your life and you'll go to heaven.

Do bad and you'll burn for all eternity.

Kind of like Santa Claus,

Right?

That was about the gist of it.

My grandmother would also tell me stories about Cherokee traditions and how she used to go to fortune tellers,

But none of that aligned with what the church was speaking of.

Her stories about Cherokee traditions and experiences going to fortune tellers stick out more than any lesson she ever taught or talked about in relation to religion.

My father was a heavy machine operator throughout this time.

My mom worked in real estate here and there,

But not for long.

We would move out of my grandmother's house only to move back shortly after.

And this happened more than once throughout these years.

Around five years old,

My father started working with waste management.

Now this job required him to work all over the Northern area of the East coast.

And we stayed down South.

This weighed heavily on my mom's sanity.

My father's mom,

Whom we called nanny,

Passed right around this time,

Right around five years old.

My father was devastated.

His mother was quite literally his best friend and his biggest supporter,

Aside from my mom.

Even though I hold memories of coloring with her and holidays spent together,

There was minimal time her and I had together,

But she was the kindest,

Sweetest,

Most gentle loving woman you could imagine.

There wasn't anybody who ever had any reason to speak badly about her.

When she passed,

My mother was adamant I didn't attend the funeral services,

And I was livid.

I literally threw the biggest tantrum.

I wanted to go so badly,

But unfortunately at five years old,

No one thought I would understood,

Even though I did,

But no one listened to me and I wasn't able to attend her services.

Now,

Even though I didn't officially get to go to her services and pay my quote unquote respects,

I do remember consoling my dad the best way a five-year-old could at the time.

Anyways,

I remember cuddling with him and trying to make him laugh.

And I'm sure he knew what I was trying to do,

But nothing was ever going to replace his mom.

His relationship with his mother,

As you will see,

Became identical to the bond he and I had.

So for the first eight years of my life,

I lived mainly with my mom,

My grandmother,

And my sister in Alabama and Georgia.

My mother was not an affectionate woman by any means.

Between her and my father,

They were like lovebirds,

But he was the only one she was able to be affectionate with.

And in the beginning,

She was the only one that could tame him.

One time he told me after he passed away that I reminded him of what he saw when he fell in love with my mother,

The passion and the faith.

Nonetheless,

He was the only one that she ever knew how to love and trust.

My sister and I never understood why she couldn't feel that way towards her own children.

Throughout growing up,

There was always the repetitive paranoia that my mother would experience.

She never developed any relationships with any other person aside from my dad.

In later years,

She did develop a relationship with my firstborn son,

But no relationship ever lasted.

Something would always end up happening and it always consisted of someone else being jealous or lying to her.

All the relationships failed because she felt other people were literally out to get her or had evil intentions,

You know,

According to her.

Again,

Throughout these years,

We didn't understand how deeply the trauma she never spoke of remained part of her life,

And that this was a reflection of that.

And because of that,

It was literally my mom and my dad or me and my sister,

My sister and I as long as we were fed and had a roof over our head for my mother,

That was the extent of the affection that she knew how to show.

Eventually,

They made the decision that it was best if we traveled together instead of being separate.

And even when we moved up north with the intention that it would keep us closer as a family,

He still ended up having to travel locally and would be gone for extended periods of time.

But when he was home,

He made sure that we had fun.

He would always tell the best stories,

Stories about growing up in Staten Island,

New York,

About how he would get into bar fights and motorcycle rides,

About how he at seven years old left Staten Island and took the ferry to New York City to go see his dad because his dad was a firefighter and his mother freaked out on him because he was only seven years old.

Sometimes there would be a really good song that came on the radio and no matter who sang it could be from 50 years ago Elvis or Journey.

He would totally take credit for helping that artist write the song and we totally believed him.

He was ridiculously hilarious.

He would talk to everyone,

The people at the cash register,

Someone at the gas station.

He would just randomly develop relationships with anyone he talked to.

He was so opposite from my mother and he loved to spoil us when he was home.

He took us on vacations.

He spent as much time as he possibly could with us.

Unfortunately the consistent paranoia with my mother,

The physical pain she was now enduring from the slipped discs and the now developing painkiller addiction along with the emotional pain accumulated by the absence of the only man that kept her balance,

We still ended up moving around a lot even after we moved up north between New York and Massachusetts.

At one point in my mid-30s I had to tally up every place I've ever lived and let me tell you that was a chore.

On average up until I was 30 years old I moved every six months.

My parents never bought a house.

They always rented and as much money as my father made my mom was the one that handled the finances and how they were distributed and she just wasn't good with money.

And once we moved up north church was no longer a part of our lives.

The first three years after moving up north is when my mother's painkiller addiction really grew out of control.

This is going to probably paint a very different picture than what most people perceive when you think addiction.

With my dad mainly working out of town my mom was put in a position where she had to manage the house and all the things that come with it,

Raising the kids and now she had to find new doctors.

Unfortunately after almost a decade of taking painkillers she had developed a tolerance and needed more than what she was being prescribed for them to work.

My mom never realized she was developing an addiction or that she was doing anything wrong.

To her she felt like this was her only option.

So she would go to multiple doctors using multiple names like her first name and married name,

Her middle name and maiden name,

Etc.

You get the point.

She did this in order to get enough painkillers so that they would actually work and she would be able to function with the seven slip discs.

It definitely became an obsession for her.

I remember coming downstairs and she would be sitting at the kitchen table counting how many percocets she had to make sure that she had enough to get to her next doctor's appointment.

There were times she was extremely late from picking us up from school because she had to travel to five towns over to see a different doctor to get the prescription she felt she needed.

Again she did this because she felt she was expected to keep a clean house,

To go to the grocery store,

To do all the things that she was expected to do and take care of her family.

And to her without these painkillers she wasn't going to be able to do it.

In 1995 when I was 12 and my sister 18 my mother's painkiller addiction got to the point where she was being monitored by the DEA.

One day I didn't want to stay in school so I pretended to be sick.

I called my mom and asked her to come and get me.

She was reluctant and rightfully so.

Thankfully my dad was home that day and he came to pick me up from school but the car ride home was eerily off.

When I got home I realized why they were so reluctant to come pick me up.

The DEA had raided our house.

They were under the impression that she was selling the prescription she was obtaining,

Using multiple names through multiple doctors.

But the DEA quickly realized that no,

She was not selling her prescriptions,

She was abusing them.

I remember my dad sitting at the kitchen table as the DEA went through all of our belongings and I'm sure he was racking his brain as to how the hell this got out of control.

But regardless he supported her and stood by her side throughout the whole ordeal.

But it was at that point I believe she realized what she was doing was not okay.

Throughout the 10 years that she was going to the doctors they brought up to her multiple times that she could have surgery on the slipped discs.

However there was only a 50-50 chance that it would work and any pain would subside.

But at this point she had no other choice.

In 1995 after being on these painkillers for 10 years my mom was placed on a do not prescribe list so that she was no longer able to obtain any type of painkiller through a pharmacy and she opted to have the surgery done.

It was that or go to jail.

So obviously she opted to stay out of jail and it really wouldn't surprise me one bit if my father pulled strings to make it that way.

Though he would never admit it and in the years that followed I definitely received validation on what really occurred.

When the time came for my mom to have her surgery she laid on the couch during her recovery for weeks.

I would take care of anything that I could take care of for her especially when my father was out of town.

My sister had moved out shortly after the DEA raided our house so it was just me,

My mom and my dad.

And although I did spend a lot of time at my sister's it definitely wasn't the same at home without her.

This was the time in my life where I became extremely independent.

My childhood days were over.

During my mom's journey of recovery is when she turned back to her faith,

Her bible studies and her understanding of God from when she was a child.

Most people will do this when in a recovery stage.

They turn to something spiritual or grander than themselves in order to help them recover.

Unfortunately the unhealed trauma that still remained undealt with and unspoken of transformed her reconnection to her faith into another unhealthy unbalanced obsession and the paranoia of people out to get her transformed into people being controlled by the devil.

Anything my mom didn't agree with was the devil.

People were idiots.

She had tried returning to local churches but again everyone was either an idiot,

The devil,

Out to get her,

Not following what her understanding of God's word was and they would rot in hell for their wrongdoings.

Her obsession with the bible and her bible studies would consist of her reading and writing.

She would read the bible and then she would journal her understanding of that particular portion of the bible.

The only church that she ever felt connected to was with Jimmy Swaggart.

So if she wasn't reading the bible on her own she was watching him on tv.

There would be times when i would debate religious matters with my mother both at 12 and thereafter.

Although at 12 i quickly realized it was like talking to a brick wall but i still tried.

There was no understanding of people,

Their paths,

Their lessons.

There was no compassion towards another human being unless you held the same viewpoint that she had with the bible and what she understood God to be.

If you didn't agree you were wrong and she was going to be the first person to point that out and judge you.

So again at 12 years old is when i started doing whatever the fuck i wanted to do.

Whatever i was being guided to do.

I was on a journey all my own so i didn't seek parental permission because to me it didn't matter much anyways.

I already knew right from wrong.

Regardless of all the inner family experiences up until that point i was being guided regardless of where my mother was within her own journey and i understood the difference therein.

Again always guided intuitively by Orion,

Cora and soon after this Maggie.

And it was at that point they became my parental figures.

And for the record guided or not i was still young and dumb and learning like we all have to do.

My father was never a churchgoer.

He participated for my mom without placing his own opinions upon her.

His happiness always came from our happiness and his ability to provide for us.

So as far as any of our conversations on the matter he understood my viewpoint and agreed.

But he also reminded me that it's a personal choice and if that choice makes you happy then who is he to say that it was wrong?

Wise man he was and still is.

I have to say that i am a carbon copy of my father in several ways.

So much so that he used to call me Bobby because his name was Robert.

We just understood each other.

This understanding of each other allowed for he and i to have such an amazing connection.

He was never controlling and being a daughter and the baby at that he was extremely protective of us girls.

Especially when it came to dating.

He hated every guy we ever brought home and he made sure that they knew it without having to say a word.

Although my relationship and connection with my father is magnificently balanced and indestructible and even though he was is and always will be my hero.

He did not hold that perspective in everyone's eyes.

He was a big man with a big energy behind him to match.

His presence alone would either make you feel extremely happy,

Safe and comfortable or scared for your life if he felt he needed to protect something.

That is just one of the many qualities i am extremely grateful for and acknowledge that he handed down to me.

The qualities he passed down to me and my sister were probably some of the hardest for my mom to accept.

I never lied.

I always told the truth even if the other person didn't want to hear it.

For example at 12 years old i told my mother i smoked cigarettes and that she could either accept this or not.

Either way this was my choice and i was going to do as i chose.

She accepted it and said just don't tell your father.

To which i was scared to death to do anyways so i agreed.

But as i grew older and more dependent and with my sister no longer living with us my mother would go to ridiculous extents to control my level of freedom.

But it was always depending on where that freedom was trying to take me.

When it came to boys and dating boys were bad.

The only thing they wanted was sex and sex in itself was portrayed as dirty and unnatural.

But we'll get to all of that much later.