mind body spirit

My Spiritual Journey: Counselor—Faith—Intuition

My Spiritual Journey: Counselor—Faith—Intuition

June 8, 2009

I can feel myself beginning to question my new commitment to combine all three elements of who I am – the clinical counselor, the Christ-centered religious person, and the spiritually intuitive woman who receives flashes of guidance and clarity – in all aspects of my professional and personal life.

How quickly my memory fades; how quickly I forget the depth of my recent insight, my direction, my new resolve. I do remember how strongly I felt those things I wrote about only two days ago. I remember the tears wetting my face and the tension in my forehead as I embraced the decision to integrate these three parts of my inner core.  But just as powerful as my desire to be “whole” is my mind and body’s overwhelming need to protect me, caution me against standing out, and urge me to maintain the status quo. “Be normal!” is the message from my inner critic.  “No one else ever talks about a burning need to combine clinical, religious and intuitive insight!”

My brain threatens to erase the cognitive connection I came to, and make me soften my writing, my journey’s foot prints, rendering me stuck in non-change—keeping myself unchanged. What a powerful tool this inner conflict provides me to experience first hand how my clients interact with me, and how they feel about the guidance I provide to them daily. I feel just how difficult change can be—even willing, desperate change.

The struggle to open myself up and share these spiritual and intuitive dimensions of my life with others continues to plague me. The desire to be known, to be loved is there — but I quickly close off when I feel even the possibility of the judgment and criticism of others, especially those who are close to me, those whom I love the most.  I know it hurts them, too, when they see how alive I can be, but that I choose not to share that part of me with them. Do they not see that they can’t have it both ways? They can’t effectively shut me down one moment, and then expect me to continue to open my world to them. This is something to this day I have not learned to do. So I fracture myself sharing just those pieces of me they can handle, and not sharing the other pieces of me that they can’t understand or deal with — or should I just exclude them all together and go it alone?

In a way this is part of what my spiritual journey is about; learning how not to “go it alone.” Learning how to put myself out there and stand in my truth, not only with my family (who are the scariest because I have the most to loose with them) but also with everyone with whom I come into contact. I fear that the people at my church, who I do not really know, will make fun of me, or think I am some kind of psychic nut job. I agonize about how my clients will react – the very people I help navigate the level of their own openness and desire to be touched.

My clients perhaps are the least of my fears, because God sent them to me, and they are ready, open and relieved when I talk about what others shy away from. They have had experiences that can’t be explained through traditional, clinical logic, and they have questions that can’t be answered through traditional, clinical logic, either. Not only do I talk about what others consider psychic babble when my clients bring it up, but also I act as if it’s the most normal everyday occurrence, because for me, it truly is. I only wish I could let my family in on this element of my life—my journey. Perhaps God will show me how, or place the desire and openness in them to explore this and not be threatened or fearful. As I walk were He sends me, as I talk to those He brings to me, to I hope all will be made clear.

— Kay