When I was waking up I would take classes to get more information on what was happening to me. I got to know one meditation instructor a bit and we would chat after class. I would let out little bits and pieces of what I was experiencing. She mentioned something significant: offering readings to people might be grounding for me. She thought it could validate the things I was seeing and the information I was picking up in such a way I might get more comfortable in this new skin of mine. She suggested I offer them free to the class.I did.I would call my fellow students, set a time and meet with them in their homes. I started reading people by closing my eyes and using my hands to reach into their energy fields for information. It was like sticking my hand into an informational cookie jar. I literally reached into their energy, their being, to pick up things.Departed loved ones would show up to chat. Names, dates, details and evidential information that they were present poured in through each session. With my eyes closed I saw energy pouring through my hands and out towards the other person. Everything I seemed to be experiencing was validated time and time again. I would leave each session, drive home, and go to my room where I would curl in a ball and cry. Why do I know such things? Why me?I needed more grounding, more validation. It felt like an insatiable urge to keep going with this even if I had no idea what “this” was. If others were offering insight on psychic lines, maybe I could do the same. I’ve talked to enough to know how this works. I applied and passed a test interview on one of the psychic hotlines. I grabbed an online royalty free photo, created a pseudonym and began giving phone readings for 0.30 a minute at night. The photo was that of a thin, beautiful red haired woman with alabaster skin in a bright orange blouse – nothing that resembles me at all! Callers would mention how my voice did not fit my face! I pretended I was shocked at that! The rapport on the phone however, was good for me, even with people calling to talk to a psychic. I had some interaction with human beings again. I liked the experience and It was grounding and validating. I quickly became one of the line’s favorite advisors.During the day I worked with my business clients. I’d sit across a conference table with someone and see their departed loved ones behind them. I’d see spirits passing by stop and say, “Hello!” I’d look people in the eyes as we talked and think, “I wonder what they’d say if I told them who I saw standing behind them?” The loved ones would beg me to tell them things they wanted them to hear. Other times I’d go out for drinks with a colleague at night and sit at the bar listening to them talk and think, “You have no idea what I really can do.” Meanwhile, I’d see colored energies swirling around anyone I came in contact with.As time went on, I felt I lived two lives. I did. I was a professional consultant by day and a psychic medium by night. I thought that if my professional colleagues found out I’d be marginalized, fired and disowned. I’d have to defend myself. I’d be ostracized and abandoned. I was harboring a dark secret and felt cursed. I resented what happened to me. I came into this crazy world of spirits kicking and screaming. I was not happy. I was angry. I was suffering inside.My life was encased in fear, fear, fear, fear, fear: fear of being metaphysically “outed,” fear of being marginalized, fear of spending the rest of my life alone. I felt like a pressure cooker ready to explode as I held this all inside of me. One day I was chatting with a manifestation class instructor. As I told her my story I started to cry, “I don’t want to be one of those crazy psychics!” She looked calmly at me and said, “Then don’t be.”“I don’t want to be ostracized as a lunatic!”“Then don’t intend to be.”“I’m an educated professional!”“Then still be. Lord knows, there aren’t enough people like you talking about spirits with some educated sanity. Bring yourself to the table. Be who you are in all of this craziness.”A light bulb when on it my head. Thus calm, professional, sane guidance was born.