2. Teenage Years: Oh, It Gets Better

Teenage years are lovely: acne, hormonal changes, already being awkward and smelly, how much worse does it get?   

Moving into adolescence I began to have what are known as, dejavu, daydreams and no matter how many extracurricular activities that I participated in I always felt “different”.  Being different as a teen as we all know, Sucks. period. All you really want to do is blend in.

High School was difficult, walking through the cafeteria was a daily hell. If I could I avoided it all cost! I didn't like people staring at me or noticing me by myself because when I did I felt the negative thoughts being beamed my way. At the time I wasn't aware of all of these energy dynamics going on because I didn't know how to differentiate between my "stuff" and theirs, I figured there was something wrong with me like mental illness or social anxiety disorder.  Needless to say,  this made me  quite moody and I don't think I really smiled most of high school. Sad, but true, I once had a classmate tell me I looked like a terrorist walking down the hallway, gee thanks. As a result,  I spent many a day eating lunch it study hall doing homework. I felt safe there and  I got my homework done and got better grades, Downside: Still effing MISERABLE! 

The fact of the matter was, there was and isn't anything wrong with me (Hurray!) because like many intuitive persons, I was unaware how to shield and became psychic energy sponge to other people's crap. Now for a cool story! 

The stand-out moment during my adolescent years was during the highschool senior retreat.

      Flashback to junior year: In our junior year of high school, students were required to write a letter, which would be reopened the next fall at senior retreat. Junior year was rough. My first dog with whom I had been very close, was slowly crossing over, I prayed to St. Francis to cross her over more quickly. I didn't have the emotional will to say good-bye to her before getting her put down.  Upon returning home from school that, my first dog had crossed over, although I was heartbroken and cried A LOT, I knew that St. Francis had heard my intentions. 
     Fast forwarding, to senior retreat day, I began reading the letter I wrote a year go, completely forgetting that I had written about my dog and her passing. As I began to read, tears formed in my eyes as I read over the sentences about my first dog, I missed her so bad. I looked up to see if anyone was watching me cry, and looked up to straight in front of me  was a statue of St. Francis and a dog! I was assured then that my first dog, Jolie, and St. Francis were looking out for me. However, my encounter with St. Francis was not to be my last...