Doubt Comes In

How the wounds of my past are impacting my journey into mediumship

Lately I have been experiencing a surge of self-doubt and imposter syndrome related to my psychic abilities. It seems that over the past week my connection has gotten less and less clear, resulting in a crashout over the weekend after attending my second mediumship practice circle. In an effort to stay true to my brand (I’m always going to be genuine and unfiltered), and to continue processing the experience, I wanted to write about it here. Especially given this Substack was created to document my journey into mediumship and psychic development, it would be inauthentic for me to skip over these challenging moments. So let’s dive in.

During my first practice circle last month, and first intentional experience with mediumship, I surprised myself with the information I brought through. This second time around, I surprised myself with how little information came through. I joined the Zoom breakout room with my partner, a middle-aged woman I had never met, and was assigned to go first. I thought I was connected when I began the short 20 minute reading, but only a few minutes in my partner told me she thinks I was connected to her and her sister, with her sister being very much alive. She was convinced that the physical sensations I was feeling were physical sensations her sister was experiencing, rather than sensations brought through by her loved ones in spirit.

For example, one of the strong sensations that came through pretty immediately was pain and tension going from my jaw down my neck to my shoulder. We are taught in these spaces to share everything that comes through, so I did. My partner jumped in to say it sounded like I was connecting to her sister, who my partner had just been with prior to the circle, and disregarded it as something brought through by spirit. However, the sensation did not alleviate and at one point appeared to get even stronger, which I continued to share. I also mentioned noticing my mouth get quite dry, to which she said she suffers from dehydration so I must be bringing through information for her rather than from spirit. Each time I mentioned these sensations, my partner appeared to brush them off as belonging to either her or her sister. It was around this point when I started struggling with my connection.

Soon it felt like I was getting nothing. I wasn’t getting any visuals in my mind’s eye, I stopped noticing any physical sensations in my body, and even the voice in my head became eerily silent. It was as though my body had pressed the mute button. I recognized this as an opportunity for doubt to creep in, and I used the tool my therapist and I had discussed for such an occasion: I acknowledged the doubt and shrunk it down to live on a shelf until my portion of the reading was over.

It didn’t work. I was painfully aware of how long I was sitting in silence, and unfortunately very aware of my partner’s hopes that I bring someone through for her. Eventually, she chimed in to share that her brother, who is in spirit, regularly supports her with her business, and asked if he was coming through. The voice in my head unmuted, but because of the information she had given about her brother, I didn’t trust that I was receiving information clairaudiently. What came through was basically a rewording of my partner’s description of her brother. While my partner was confident I was connected to her brother, I was not.

Regardless of my partner’s (unintentional) role in planting seeds of doubt, I have been feeling frustrated that I can’t just shake off her comments and trust myself.

This experience has had me reflecting on memories that have resurfaced lately. My sense of belonging and safety has sprouted out of roots of doubt, and those seeds were planted throughout my upbringing. I will share a couple examples with you from adulthood. I could write many other stories about seeds planted when I was a child, but I’m going to save those for future posts.

When I was in college, I had a pretty difficult time. During my junior year I applied to transfer schools prior to my senior year. This was the second time I considered transferring, as I very nearly transferred after having a rough freshman year. I set my sights on a school in Chicago that could offer me an ASL program that included theatrical interpreting, which I felt very passionate about. I had many peers support me in my application, as this was an arts school and part of the application required a creative project submission. I created a documentary-style short film about my efforts to bring more ASL into my theatre program, and was incredibly proud of what I submitted. A few months later I received my acceptance letter, and I was over the moon. I finally felt like I had a path forward where I could combine my passions into one program, and didn’t mind that transferring senior year would mean I wouldn’t graduate “on time.” (What even is “on time?” Who decides these rules?)

The day I received my acceptance I called my parents to celebrate with them. Except they did not celebrate. In fact they did quite the opposite, and told me I couldn’t transfer with only one year of school left. It would be too much money and wouldn’t be worth it. I begged, and told them I would figure out how to pay for it, but was told my student loan would be astronomical and it was out of the question. So I didn’t transfer and I graduated on time, shoving my intuition back down. I remember walking at graduation without feeling much sense of belonging to my fellow graduates.

I was not allowed to follow my knowing because it didn’t fit the mainstream understanding of a 4-year degree. Instead of the message “You can do anything you set your mind to,” and “Everything is figure-outable,” I received the message of “Parents know best,” and “Your intuition isn’t as valuable as logic and reason.” This cemented beliefs that I could not trust myself, and unfortunately was a formative experience in early adulthood.

A couple years later, I was living in Los Angeles following my college graduation. I was in the midst of pivoting my theatrical career from stage management to company management when I landed an interview at a reputable Texas theatre. A company management position had opened up, and I excitedly applied. I was still so young, and had moved around throughout my childhood, so the idea of moving to Texas didn’t phase me much. It was then that my parents decided to chime in. Once again, they told me not to move because it didn’t make logical sense. I was still creating a home for myself in Los Angeles, and they saw a move to Texas as impulsive and illogical.

I ended up being overqualified for the job in Texas, and therefore stayed in Los Angeles. But my parents’ message rang loudly in my ears. Later I recall finding a non-theatre job in San Francisco when I was struggling with burnout from the theatre world, and again was advised by my parents not to pursue that opportunity. Logic and reason were always advised to be more trustworthy than my intuition and instincts. I was not given the chance to make mistakes and fail and learn from experience because my choices were judged and shut down before they were made.

I share all of this not to shit on my parents; they did what they believed was best and I love them very much. And, what they unintentionally did was cause a rift in my ability to trust myself. A rift that had already grown to the size of a small canyon due to my experiences with chronic health issues and medical gaslighting at a young age. Unfortunately, the memories I shared in this post are just a couple out of so many. I learned, from childhood into adulthood, that I couldn’t trust my own body, my own ideas, or even my own goals and aspirations.

Bringing this back to today, having made this connection to these past experiences, I have so much compassion for myself following this mediumship practice circle. Because this experience tugged on an old wound, a deep wound and belief that older adults know better than me. I don’t fault my partner for the way she showed up; I can empathize with her eagerness and can appreciate her perspective in trying to help me connect mediumistically.

Part of my psychic development program is teaching me to trust myself even when others do not. Much easier in theory than in practice, as I’m learning. I am overwriting so many subconscious beliefs, so many learned behaviors from years of ignoring my intuition. It will take time to learn how to trust myself. In the meantime, I am going to choose to focus on the progress rather than the doubt.

When I reflect on yesterday’s circle now, I’m allowing myself to be in awe of the information I received, regardless of who it came from. Because how fucking cool is it that I can receive information psychically? How fucking cool is it that I can connect with people in spirit? Little Kels can’t believe this is the life we get to live. I’m going to hold her hand through it all.