“Black Sheep” is probably an outdated phrase but, it makes so much sense and it’s the best way to describe that feeling of not belonging.  It refers to being the only black sheep in a field full of white sheep, standing out like a sore thumb.  Now imagine being the Black Sheep of your own family.  It’s one thing to feel out of place in your community, your school or your friend group it’s another to feel lost in your own home.  It’s a struggle that no one can prepare you for. 

In many families there is the one kid that is more sensitive than the others or there’s a family member whose interests are different from everyone else’s.  For me, I was the one who saw, felt and heard things that no one else did.  I was the only Medium in a house full of non-mediums.

I’ve had encounters with spirits for as long as I can remember. Whenever I tried to tell my family about it, it was not well received. My two older sisters always thought I was making it up. Like most older siblings do, they told me:  “Stop making up stories,“ and “You’re just lying for attention.”  When I told my busy mother of four about what I was experiencing, she told me “Don’t tell anyone, especially your teachers.  They might take you away from us and put you in a loony bin or nuthouse.”  She said it with the best of intentions.  The world is a little more accepting of mediums now than it was in the 1980’s and 1990’s. She thought she was protecting me, the best way she knew how. It was was probably how she was raised, using fear to keep kids safe.  What she didn’t realize was that the fear she taught me would haunt me for years to come.

I learned that what made me different had to be hidden.  I had to be quiet or people would think I was crazy.  It was bad enough that my own family thought I was a liar and that I was insane but, to have my only other support, my friends, feel that way too?  Ugh!  I would test the waters every now and again by sharing a “ghost story” or two to see how my friends would react.  It always ended with me knowing that I had to continue to keep hiding my truth. Once again the Black Sheep in white sheep’s clothing.

So, I kept my mouth shut.  I started to lie to myself, thinking everyone must be right.  I began to believe I was making it all up and that I was actually crazy.  It lead me down a dark path of self-hate and shame, which opened the door to some unpleasant spiritual experiences and non-spiritual ones too.  I self-medicated and surrounded myself with people who had no expectations.  My attempts of taking my own life somehow miraculously were thwarted, which I realize now was divine intervention at it’s finest.   

I struggled with my faith and beliefs for a long time wondering: “If God does exist, why would He let me suffer from these spiritual interactions alone and in silence?  Why would he place me in a family where everyone thought I was exaggerating and telling stories?” However, down the road, it was God who helped me find my way back to my truth.  I made it through the darkness by focusing on His light.  I know it sounds super cliché but, it’s true.  Don’t get me wrong, it was not overnight.  It took me a while to find that light but when I did, oh boy!  Life changed so much for me and for the better.

Through nurturing my relationship with God, I was able to connect with Angels, my Grandmother’s spirit and my Spirit Guides.  They helped me to understand a little bit about why I had to live the life of the Black Sheep.  I had to go through the struggle of everyone I trusted not believing me, so that I could learn self-acceptance.  I needed to learn to trust myself and stop relying on others to approve of me. I had to start believing in myself so much that I didn’t need anyone else to believe in me.  

Because of these experiences I am able to relate with others who have walked a similar path.  I can share my story and help them feel less crazy.  I can help them see that it’s when we believe in ourselves that we find real joy and true happiness.  I can help someone else feel less alone.  I can be their second Black Sheep.

I had the privilege of having a reading with a fellow Black Sheep.  Her departed father came through and told her:

“You are not a Black Sheep.  You are a Shining Star, a star so bright that others have a hard time seeing you for what you truly are.”

So, instead of calling ourselves “Black Sheep”, let us consider calling ourselves Shining Stars, because different is only bad if you believe it to be.