Spooky girl, weirdo, freak, witch, I’ve heard them all. Ever since I was a child I knew that I had a unique ability that was different from everyone else. I always seemed to know when things were going to happen, who was calling on the telephone, what someone was thinking.
At the age of five I gave a detailed description of a neighbor’s sister’s house. The house was in San Francisco. Curious, our neighbor inquired about our recent visit to California. My mother was puzzled by her statement. She explained that I had described my sister’s house on the zig- zag street, the very well known tourist attraction Lombard Street. Mom said, “No”, and shuffled me into the house never to speak of the incident again. Days later the same neighbor told my mother that I must have, “The Gift.” From then on my mother called me “Bridey Murphy”. I didn’t know who this person was until just recently when I researched the name. I discovered that Bridey Murphy was a 19th century woman from Cork, Ireland, who began speaking through Virginia Tighe in Pueblo, Colorado, in 1952 [the same year I was born] when Morey Bernstein, a local businessman and amateur hypnotist, hypnotized her.
As my gift developed it was clear to me that I was different. I knew not to talk about my abilities for fear of being ridiculed by my peers. Like most teenagers I wanted to fit in and be like everyone else. But that wasn’t a possibility. I had something none of my friends or family had or so I thought.
As I matured, so did the gift. While in college, I would do cheesy reading for my friends and they were amazed by my accuracy. However it wasn’t a stretch to know what college student wanted to hear; “Will I pass my Art History final or does the guy in English Lit want to ask me out.” The readings easily covered the cost of my art supplies. After college I learned to embrace my gift and not fight it. But I felt keeping my gift a secret was like being ashamed of who I was. From then on I decided to strengthen my psychic muscle. I exercised it like an athlete preparing for a marathon. I would do regular readings for friends, family co-workers; anyone willing to sit with me for 15-minutes.
A few years later in my late 20’s I attended a series of Personal Development Seminar. They were designed to promote self awareness and aid in success in corporate career decision making. We practiced deep meditation and CEP (Closed Eye Processes) to tap into our inner thoughts and subconscious. It was during one of these exercises I heard a voice. It said, “You are finally able to hear me.” I opened my eyes. The room was silent and everyone still had their eyes closed. I remember whispering, “Who are you?” I realize it was the voice of my spirit guide. He announced himself as Melchionne. From that moment on Mel, as I affectionately call him, has been an indispensable part of my life.
After much research I now realize that the gift of psychic insight can be passed from generation to generation. On my 35th birthday my mom confessed that she saw ghostly images all of her life. It now made sense to me why she would sleep huddled under her bed covers with the lights on. I told her I was able to hear voices and see future events unfold like watching a video clip. My daughter, like my mother sees images and my granddaughter hit the paranormal jack pot. She’s able to see, hear and predict things.
I’m now past middle age and have used my ability to assist and guide hundreds of people through difficult times in their lives, to counsel and support them with my gift. I was told by a nationally recognized psychic, “If you tell people what they want to hear then you are cheating them and yourself. Being a psychic is a privilege. It is a gift that I take seriously along with the responsibilities that come with it.”
After a 28 year professional career at a major eastern university, my husband and I semi-retired to Asheville, North Carolina. We chose to live a quiet lifestyle and to enjoy the peaceful surroundings of the Blue Ridge Mountains. I noticed many people in this area have phenomenal gifts. It’s as if there is a psychic draw to this mountainous area. Maybe it’s the great spirit of the Cherokee firebird or the mystical medicine of Shamans’ gone by. Nonetheless, being a psychic can be a blessing and at times a burden. I choose to accept it as a gift in hopes to better understand it and perhaps make life a better place for those who believe.