From the young age of 4 I was able to hear things, see things and feel things that were unexplainable. I would try and explain to my parents the knocking I heard on the wall and the girl in the basement quietly calling out my name no louder than a whisper. I would tell them about the time a gust of wind blew by me while I was sitting still in a chair. I asked my mom why the light around her was so bright and to turn it off as it was giving me a headache. I explained about the things I saw in the night; the people always standing at the end of my bed, staring down at me. The girl who was hurt that kept visiting me in the night and the terror I felt from her. I would talk of premonitions and visions that soon after came to be.
As I got older it turned into cupboard doors opening, furniture moving around the house when I was left alone. It became to be too much. I didn’t know how to handle it; there was no control. I was scared. Those around me didn’t know how to help. I had learned quickly in school not to talk about the things I experienced as it was not ‘normal’. I was teased often and made fun of for it. So, I learned to hide this part of myself from the world.
My parents didn’t know how to help me so they called the priest and asked him to stop me from being able to see and feel the things I did. I was told to turn it off, to ignore it and tuck it away. I was told to be normal like all the other kids. I wanted to be normal, to be accepted, I didn’t want to be seen as the sensitive one, or the problem child. So I prayed to God and asked him to fix me.