Awakening 4 - another hospital "visit", psychic gifts and learning my lessons

2007 was a Year of Change

I was living in a home I hadn’t wanted to live in, forced to move when my kind ex landlord wanted to sell his house, and this was where I landed.

Boxes filled the spare room, and my cave of a living room was filled with hazy smoke and I watched films, crocheted blankets for my nan’s projects and sometimes avoided answering the door.

The shock and trauma hang-over from the year before was still in the air, and I really wasn’t a happy bunny.

So when an old friend asked to move in, despite the feeling of wanting to hide from the world, I decided to take this opportunity. I made space for him to move into the spare room and boxes were unpacked, things were thrown away and my life started moving again.

We went to free parties, like I used to, before my awakening, and dancing became the medicine it always was once more. I settled in to my old life again and the community seemed to accept me and no one said a thing about last year. I’m not sure I was happy, but I certainly was on the mend and life was moving on.

A few months later, I met a man who’d become my lover and a profound influence in my life for years to come.

This was a man I‘d met a year before and back then, he was in a relationship with my friend's mother and when I’d looked him in the eyes, there seemed a flash of recognition between us and looked away quickly. I’ve never wanted to be the cause of relationships breaking down, and I wasn't going to start then. I didn't think of him again until the moment I saw him on the street, walking toward me and radiating his bright energy towards me. We smiled and the connection was there again in a flash.

I invited him over and we shared dinner, chatting like old friends. It was like we’d never been apart. I could feel the expansion in me and I was happy, able to explore the many realms and themes I craved but didn’t dare to with most people.

It wasn't long before we were in bed enjoying an intimacy like we’d known each other before.

Over the coming weeks I saw him often and my energy started rising. This summer holidays were calling and along with it, festivals and parties and holidays.

I felt happy once again, and, I think, awakening again.

I was becoming me once again.

Around this time, I needed time off my second job. The support work in the college was great and I loved supporting students to achieve their potential, but started a second job to add to my income and it was starting to feel like a stranglehold: every morning on a Saturday I'd get up, no matter where I was the night before, and drive in to serve people with a smile on my face. In the week, I’d go after college too: I was exhausted and something in me snapped…

I needed the weekend off go to a festival and was told it wasn’t possible, despite working every Saturday for months on end. The least they could do was let me have one weekend off!

“I’m sorry, but I’m going anyway, you may as well book in cover”. I took my power back and left to get ready for the weekend.

Trivial as it might seem, this was one of the first times in my life where I advocated from myself, for what I wanted and it felt incredible but so very scary. I wasn’t used to making such moves and it felt bold, wrong somehow.

But I did it nevertheless and it felt so liberating!

“See you on Saturday Caroline”, the students were saying goodbye at the end of term and I knew I’d see them at the festival too. We were all excited and the sunshine beckoned us all.

The weekend was wonderful filed with laugher and dancing, old friends and new, and the energy was wonderful despite the rain, but it didn't matter: the tribes had gathered from all across Mid Wales. We talked and laughed and danced into the small hours and life was good once again.

I’d forgotten one thing, however.

On Monday morning, I was going on holiday and I'd got my car stuck!

Holiday time

My heart was racing when I realised I was going to let my friends down and I was gutted. They’d offered to take me away on their family trip, and I was going to make them late!

My house mate helped me push the car and we finally made our way out of the muddy field. As soon as we were home, we unpacked the car and I was scrambling together what I needed to go on the camping trip in Scotland.

Made it! They came to pick me up and we were off, six of us in a huge camper van, with Stevey (alias) at the helm

It wasn't a great start to hold back the beginning of the trip but we were on the road and it was great. These people had supported me over the last year, and knew of my journey: it felt safe and warm, and just what I needed. Loch Ness, Edinburgh and The Rosslyn chapel, and more - it was all joyful.

I felt so happy, but I didn’t know my energies were rising again.

I’d say now I wasn’t used to feeling happy or safe. I didn’t know how to let go of the pressure I felt to achieve throughout school. The assumptions I’d made growing up still weighed on me, with no skills to check in and let it go and this time away was a welcome relief. I’m pretty sure my friends noticed but didn't say anything, but watched as I bought things that felt aligned a pair of climbing shoes as I'd always wanted to do more climbing some clothes here and there feeling inspired and Creative and in my wardrobe.

However, I wasn't aware of what was going on around me I wasn't reading the room..

When we returned from holiday, everything felt good, though I realised I hadn't actually unpacked properly from the festival. Things were going mouldy in the lounge as I’d wrongly assumed my house mate would continue to tidy things up after I’d left.

Not so.

He’d left to live with his new girlfriend and I felt totally abandoned and let down. I was of course happy for him, but I was left feeling like a fool. It was a hard lesson but one I remember to this day: to take full responsibility for my belongings and make no assumptions!

I reconnected with Tim and soon forgot the trials of my housemate. The energy between us was palpable and we spent many evenings together entwined, happy and laughing with our connection. It felt like coming home.

Changing tides

Not long after I’d returned from my trip, I was due to meet with the psychiatrist as a check-in, rare as it was, as I’d all but dismissed the service that had nothing useful to offer me.

I turned up to the mental health centre full of en enthusiasm for life, happy after my trip and the connection with Tim.

But it was the wrong day.

And it was a mistake that would change my life forever.

Instead of the hour long discussion I expected before leaving again, I chatted to the support worker I’d dismissed a few months ago before and he decided I was “not well”.

Motherfucker

He trapped me in the office space where we’d been chatting and told me if I didn't agree to go to hospital there and then, he’d get me arrested as soon as I left.

It sunk that that I had no choice, no hand to play.

I was trapped and it pissed me off, but I had nothing to do. Had I kicked off, that would seem more of an excuse for them to inject me, force me into an ambulance and take me to the hospital, so I “willingly” agreed to go in an ambulance to the hospital I'd left the year before.

Making the most of it

As is often the case when there’s no other choice, I decided to make the most of this interesting experience. I'd never been an ambulance before. I'd never had the lights on before. I was an emergency apparently. I vowed to myself they’d regret taking me to the hospital again and vowed to I’d enjoy it if that was to be my fate once again.

In the end, it was true. I understood the ropes, I no longer fought them, knowing it was futile. I played my cards right and tried to discern what to say and when. I watched them like the enemy, trapping and constraining me and everything I was and everything I believed in. I was careful and kept myself more guarded than before.

This time, I didn't go into ICU; I was placed in a room of my own, like a hotel, at the end of a long corridor. I was, of course, wholly pissed off, but I vowed to make the best of it and that’s what I did.

That evening, I was in bed, and heard a fellow inpatient walking up and down the corridor.

“Mary go home, Mary go home, Mary go home,” she repeated it again and again and again.

I couldn't sleep.

I was wired.

I was pissed off and wanted to go home.

I took this as a sign (my middle name being Mary) but I didn't want to go home, I wanted to dot go to see Tim.

I realised I hadn’t been placed under a section and was due to have a meeting in the morning. When I heard her repeating again and again, “Mary go home,”, that was it.

I wanted to spend one last night with him and I claimed my freedom.

If I didn't need to be here, why was I still here?

I called a taxi and fought for my right to leave with the night staff.

They knew they had no right to keep me, having no section in place, and I knew I had the right to leave, no matter what they said!

It was a long journey for the taxi drive who didn’t know the Welsh roads and took perhaps an hour, though I talked to the driver non stop. I kinda felt guilty for making him drive all that way, yet, I don’t know why, looking back! It was his job, and it was a nice easy drive in the balmy starlit evening.

I knew the door would be open, so I paid the driver and felt my way through the pitch black garden to the little porch entrance and opened the doors quietly, comforting Bob as I entered, the bouncing nervous dog that would greet anyone, no matter the time of night.

I moved though the house and breathed in the homely smell of incense and marijuana and climber the small stair case, remembering to duck at the top so I didn’t bang my head. My heart opened with happiness to see him, and as I climbed in beside him, he wrapped his arm around me, holding me close.   

That night I didn’t sleep much and instead, watched him as his chest rose and dropped again. I saw him morphing into different versions of himself, which I’ve encountered with other partners since then. I see him as a warrior and a nature spirit and his face changes before the vision fades and I see him as Tim once more. I felt like I knew this man from many lifetimes: he felt safe to me, a protective energy, and over the coming months I’d feel that presence again and again and again.

Sectioned again

The next morning we raced through the winding roads of Shropshire to the hospital, just in time to enter to the meeting which would decide my fate. As we walked through the doors, I could see shock on their faces that we’d made it, and were a little bit disgruntled.

I soon found out why: they’d already decided to section me, deeming me to be a flight risk and there I was proving them wrong.

Motherfuckers.

We sat through the rest of the meeting, with people I'd never met before. I looked at them, and they looked at me, peering over their fucking clipboards, deciding my fate, like they owned me.

The deal was done and I was now an inmate.

We smoked a rollie and made our goodbyes, with Tim promising to be in again soon.

Fuck. Here we are again.

Over the next few days, I settled in and felt a mixture of pissed off and elated, and could see the irony of the situation again: it seemed foretold by my studying the philosophy of mental health in university and cursing institutions such as this: now I was getting to experience it first hand.

It felt like a blessing and a curse: an experience you could never buy, yet would never want, yet could learn so much from.

I made friends with some of the girls who were in this time and know them to this day beautiful. Soulful, sensitive and not quite sure of why they were there, just like me.

For me it was the beginning of a profound and exciting psychic awakening but for many inside it was a time of turmoil sad, sadness or frustration. I was sad to see a young girl who looked numb and barely with it, who willingly underwent ECT, not believing there was any other hope for her. I was still in shock at the limited options for healing there was: ECT or pills.

No talking therapy, no group therapy, no energy healing, nothing.

But I was filled with hope for my own journey. The hope that I’d be able to understand what was going on for the others, now I felt I knew what was happening for myself. I hoped some day I’d be able to make a difference so that no-one had to undergo the shame of being detained with such little insight as to what was really happening!

That John Lennon thing

One morning, I was at the kiosk and bought the usual tobacco and chocolate: the comforting devices many of us used, and saw a newspaper with a pamphlet about John Lennon. It draw my attention immediately, feeling that I'd always felt aligned with his values of wanting to heal the world and bring love to everyone. I remembered the year before where I’d sat at my piano, laughing and wondering whether I was incarnation of John Lennon, when I noticed the dates of birth and date of death on the front?

Date of birth 9th October 1940, date of death 8th December 1980.

What the fuck!?

I couldn't believe it: he died nine months to the day, before I was born.

I’d always believed in reincarnation and had sensed my own lives in many areas around the world, but I didn't know back then it wasn't likely we'd die and come back straight away, so back then, I laughed to myself, looked at the dates and thought bloody hell, it’s possible: did he die and come back after nine months of gestation as me?

For a while, I believed it, and the one part of my whole awakening journey that I’d happily admit was wonky was believing that for a while and the embracing thing was, I told some of my community on one of my trips away from the hospital. Cringe.

I’d visited the mother of some friends of mine, who was known to be a healer and alternative thinker, and I took her aside to tell her this news. Now, I was under the impression she believed in past lives, and would be able to celebrate this “discovery” with me, but uh uh, not so.

“I can’t believe everyone thinks they’re someone special, Caroline. It’s always the same!” She exclaimed whilst lighting up a rollie and inviting me to think again. Her younger daughter came into the room and offered a welcome change of energy. I thanked her for the cup of tea and went on my way, my heart deflated and feeling like I’d had a door slammed in my face.

In the years to follow, I’d see more and more people claiming to be such and such famous spiritual teacher or other and, then, I knew the feeling. Disbelief, and a familiar “who do they think they are?”: I now understood my friend's thoughts back then.

Later, I’d come to understand we can choose to have a soul-simulation prior to incarnation, so we can learn from someone else’s lifetime, and I did this with Madame Blavatsky, which led me, some years ago, to ponder if I was her in a previous lifetime. This time, I checked in with a trusted spiritual mentor Angela Orora Medway Smith, and rather than being met with distain, I Was met with compassion and enquiry, and we received the understanding from our Spirit guides that this soul-simulation was a popular occurrence!

So, what you could call a messiah complex, turned out to not so far away from a potential reality - it just probably wasn’t the case with John Lennon!

Normalising the situation

The days rolled into one, punctuated with breakfast, rollies, praying with some of the patients, chatting to others about what might be happening for them and lunchtimes over in the great hall. I felt like the prefect that knew the ropes and I had a sense of certainty about my place in things. I knew when to shut my mouth and not let anything that might be taken the wrong way out in front of the nurses, yet couldn’t fully contain the anger and frustration I felt.

I'm sure I spoke harshly to both of my parents when they visited; to my dad, feeling his responsibility from the time before when he drove me to the hospital, and to my mum, for seeming to be so passive in the situation when she could have potentially got me let out.

It sucked, but at the same time, I had the overwhelming feeling it was right I was here: not because I needed their “medicine” which I detested, but so I could see what had happened last time around and learn more about these institutions.

Something deep inside told me my being here was part of my destiny, so I could come out and tell the tale, speak about the “crazy” situation of reality clashes, when the judgement of others took over others, when our realities don’t match with others.

I'm quite aware that some people were relieved to be there, happy to have somebody support or relief, a change of scene perhaps, but to me, there was no healing in this place, no listening circles, no peer support groups. Simply activities to do, and being treated as though you were somehow defective.

There were also beautiful grounds to walk around, and I was so grateful for them, for the trees and the silence and welcome of nature. I took every opportunity to be outside when I was allowed and would run around the huge fields daily to release the pent up energy of being locked up for so much of the day.

At times, Tim and I would grab some time together in the grounds, enjoying a picnic or much needed hug, a moment of privacy in the otherwise strange and soul destroying situation.

I took baths and made the most of those times, where, for a short time, you were allowed to be away from the praying eyes of the nurses, whose eyes gave you judgement without warmth, condemnation without compassion.

In my room, I battled the dark forces attempting to come to me through the mirror. I could see them contorting my face and I wasn't having any of it. I called to God and I called force my light.

“I'm with God, I’m with God, I'm with God.”…

I'd repeat it over and over again, knowing the light inside me and the power of God would purify and heal any energies that were coming to me trying to mess with my mind, and somehow knew not to mention such energy attacks to those around me who’d deem it more “psychosis” rather than a very real phenomenon known to psychics and healers alike.

Claircognisance - my hidden superpower

I spent my days speaking with other inpatients, assisting them to understand what was happening to them, and for some reason, I just understood. Now I know this occurrence to be my claircognisance, a known psychic gift of “knowing”, beyond anything we’ve read or been told.

One such lady had been given the label of schizophrenia, yet, my sense was, it was a psychic attack, as I feel with many such cases. I questioned her and over a short while, we realised it was to do with the abuse she had in childhood, and the abuser was attacking her from the other realms. I gave her some crystals, and invited her to pray and made a strong prayer myself for her protection and asked for the beings who were around her, and specifically the abuser, to be removed by the angels.

Now, I hadn’t trained in angelic healing back then, I just knew this stuff. The nurses only ever offered more pills, whereas psychically, I was seeing the answers that bought understanding, and therefore peace, to these people.

And I needed the same!

In one incident, I wanted medical help after being kicked in the stomach by someone during an intense argument involving some of the inpatients. I didn't blame them at all as the place was full of high energies, mixed emotions and intense experiences and the one who kicked me had severe trauma from the wars she'd witnessed earlier in her life.

A few hours after I was kicked, I started bleeding, as we do during our moon cycle, and watched the blood leaving my body, feeling this was different from any other period I’d experienced.

I wasn't scared or sad, but wondered instead, what I should do. I wondered if it could be I pregnant with twins (as my Nan had once been) and one was leaving and the other might still be with me. I wanted to go to a regular hospital, yet when I asked for help it felt dismissed, like I was making it up and my needs completely ignored.

Years later I was told via a psychic medium there was a small child around me. She confirmed that I had indeed been pregnant in the past, and this was the child. It probably was never meant to be and I understand that now, but back then I felt completely ignored as though my intuition was part of the so-called “illness” I had…

Playing to a sea of souls

Another day, having made friends with an open minded Occupational Therapist, I was allowed into the closed-up church on the grounds of the hospital. Being a musician, it was weird to be separated from the many instruments I had at home, and despite guitar I’d been leant, I craved to play the piano, my favourite go-to for some me time.

Entering the musky church, I saw a few people cleaning and doing jobs around the place. I hoped they’d open it soon, as many people might benefit from having such a sacred place in their time of turmoil but I was one of the lucky ones: I’d asked and I was let in.

I found the dusty grand piano on a slightly raised stage and lifted the lid. “Ahhhhhhh,” my heart sighed with relief as I moved the stool so I could sit down.

I played my heart out, and sang along with one of the songs and as I looked out, I saw souls sitting in the pews. No-one else could see them of course, but I was playing for them, and as I did, I made prayers for support to help them cross over or receive the healing they needed after being stuck in this place for since their own visit.

Years later, a psychic friend of mine would confirm that one of my jobs there was to heal the energy of grounds, the hospital and souls who were there.

For hundreds of years, people were taken to the asylum, often against their will, and sometimes simply because their husband didn’t want them any more. It was a sad situation and I was happy to have done my part to heal the area and release souls who needed releasing.     

Healing help

One afternoon, a friend of mine called and handed the phone to her mother who was psychic. “Put a while bubble of light around you, and you’ll be fine. You’re really sensitive Caroline, and you don’t want to let in all the energy of the hospital!”.

It worked a treat and I still use energy protection to this day, no matter where I am.

Back then, it was a small tip, but it had a huge effect on me and pretty soon, I’d found a barrister and started the proceedings for a tribunal to have my section revoked.

Despite the psychic experiences that were still happening, I understood it and wanted to get away from the intense environment and the pills I was forced to take.

Accepting the paranormal…

On another trip out from the hospital, I visited a friend and channeled her husband from the other realms, as I write about in “Who Called You Crazy?”. It was wonderful to be able to offer these messages yet I was learning to keep my mouth shut when I was in the hospital about anything so “woo”!

There were countless other subtle energetic or psychic experiences that seem trivial now, in terms of the work that many light-workers, mediums and healers do around the world, yet for me, they were like a coming home. I was learning my “trade” and awakening to the many soul-led gifts would use and understand more in the future.

Back then, it was like a new layer of reality was present, one that was so welcome, but it was a shock to those around me, and little by little I learnt to keep my mouth shut, hide behind a facade of smiles and I’d try to fit in years to come until I finally committed to my soul path in 2014 when I shaved my dreads.

Awakening and change

That trip to hospital was shorter than before and far less traumatic because I went of my own accord. Well, I say I went of my own accord, but really, I knew there was no other option at that time.

So I didn't fight it, however, I knew the way their world worked. I knew to keep my mouth shut as far as I could, I knew to take the pills and stop fighting them so I could leave as soon as possible. I knew to behave but I certainly had more fun chatting to my fellow inmates and enjoyed myself as much as possible.

That phase of awakening was profound. I knew in my bones I was there for a reason and the seeds for much of my writing and the work I do now, were planted back then. I had awakened to more of my soul’s gifts and a month or two later, I stopped the medication, safe in knowing I wasn't going to get sectioned again any time soon.

I was helped immensely by the man who stood by me through those months. He was courageous and strong for me, so I could leave the clutches of the mental health system and the belief systems from my parents that didn't match my own.

That time around, I also received the support of two incredible women who worked within the local mental health services. They could see I had useful insight into my experiences and they wanted to support me. They assisted me to enjoy my holistic path of wellbeing following my intuition. They claimed benefits for me and with that, my nervous system calmed down, knowing my basic financial needs were met. From here, they advised me to retrain so I’d no longer be in a job that didn't pay me enough to live.

I considered completing my massage training, however friends recommended I trained in accounts as I was skilled in maths and it was something they thought would be more financially viable. I think I was scared about doing the massage again, because of what had happened the year before, so for some reason I gave in, and the door to training opened easily.

I joined the college just minutes from my home and started training the next September. Over the years, I gained helpful experience and a paid job that was grounding yet I knew deep within me, my soul was still calling. The job that called for me to comb out my dreadlocks and wear a suit was never going to fulfil me for the rest of my life.

Ideas were slowly coming to me about changes I might make, and another profound moment happened to spur me on when horse riding on my 30th birthday…

Once again, I invite you to reach out for support if any of the themes I share here trigger you emotionally. I write to share my experiences and not create challenges so please do find the support that is right for you, share your experiences with me, or reach out to book a call and see if we’re right to work together.

Together we can find a way forward I’m sure, so that people undergoing spiritual awakening can receive the help they need. You can reach out to the samaritans or the the International Spiritual Energy Network (ISEN) for support here if you feel you are undergoing a spiritual crisis or talk to friends or family who are open minded and can help you find the right support for you. 

You can also reach out for coaching sessions if you'd like space to explore your own awakening journey and integrate all you've been through by messaging me here.

With so much love and so many blessings,

Caroline