Finding God
Let me preface this by saying that these are my own personal opinions and experiences, and mine alone. If you don’t agree with me, that’s alright. Much love to you. There’s enough hate in the world right now.
My awakening had begun from a young age. I was born with an inquisitive mind and often used logic and reason to explain or define what was going on in my own life, and the world at large. In fact, if you ask my mother, she will probably confirm that my favourite childhood question was always, “how do you know?” I did not rely on blind faith. Only facts and proof pacified my busy mind. In my experience, intuition and anxiety were one in the same. It was an endless struggle to differentiate between the two. I was always worried about something. I could not entertain the possibility of a positive outcome in any situation until I first ran through every negative possibility in my mind. This was my default setting; my glass was always half empty. The other shoe was sure to drop. I was convinced I was the only person cursed with this way of thinking and wished for nothing more than to be “normal.” It would be years before I would realize that this was reality for many.
Six years ago, if you asked me what my relationship with God or my spirituality was like, my answer would have wavered between one of these two replies. Either, God who? or, I believe there might be a greater power out there but I don’t really care for religion; it’s a social construct. In reality, I only answered with point two on occasion because I thought if there really was a God and he was listening, I might get punished for not believing. I’m Italian, after all, and religion always had a seat at my family’s table. At this point in my life, what my faith or spiritual practice looked like was my own choice. The Catholic school days were behind me, and Sundays at church were replaced by Sundays at work. However, if I’m honest, a little bit of anger would being to fester deep down in my belly whenever this topic came up. Anytime someone said something about “God’s will,” a mini volcano erupted inside of me. There was a darkness that it generated and I was certain I knew exactly what it stemmed from.
By this time, I had suffered a few great losses. My father, his brother, and my grandfather. I couldn’t reconcile that the same being who was responsible for causing me a great deal of pain, should also be regarded as my saviour. How could I possibly believe there was a God that not only allowed for the suffering and destruction of the planet and its people, but had also created it? There were so many humans in the world, why did death have to come for my people?
I know what you’re thinking. Woah, heavy stuff. But it gets better, I promise. Fast forward to today where I have a thriving spiritual practice and business which whole-heartedly hinges on my faith and the faith of my clients. So how did I get from point A to point B, you ask?
It all started with a Medium.
I booked an appointment out of curiosity. Some friends had been to see her and experienced positive results. I wasn’t even sure if I believed in any of it. However, the possibility that she might be able to connect me with my father carried me forward. I had mixed emotions though. Would I be more upset if she was able to connect with him or more upset if she wasn’t ? It had been 24 years since my father died. Would she be able to access him? I didn’t know how it worked. But still, I took the leap.
Knowing what I’ve told you about myself at this stage, do you think I was going to make it easy for her? HECK NO! I’m the quintessential city girl with a pretty good resting “you know what” face. I went in with my poker face on and didn’t reveal a thing. I wouldn’t even lead on that I had departed loved ones I wanted to connect with, even though I was prepped with photos of them in the event that they were needed.
Those of you that have experienced a good Medium are probably laughing at me by now. Boy, did my ego get slapped down a few notches that day. Within the first few minutes that rough exterior that I had spent years building up came crumbling down. In an instant, my faith was restored and the burden of hatred against God had been purged off of my chest. It was cathartic. This moment would be the catalyst upon which my future spirituality would be built. My father was there, and he had been waiting for me to come.