Coming Out of the HSP Closet

This morning I had a lengthy conversation with a fellow gym rat. Not that I’m much of a rat…more of a mouse, really. But still. Anyway, seems a dear friend of his from the past, someone he’d lost touch with the last few years yet someone he’d appreciated and revered, had died. This guy at the gym, let’s call him Stew, was obviously experiencing sadness, and disappointment in himself for not having stayed in contact because “now it’s too late.”

I’m an HSP with certain abilities, so it’s up to me.

As an intuitive medium, I was already connecting with Stew’s friend “Jim,” seeing him in my mind’s eye as the powerfully built former linebacker I would soon discover he was (from Stew’s later description), and a man with a heart of gold. Although Stew knows that I “talk to dead people,” we’d never gotten into it before during our brief convos passing from Stairmaster to elliptical. You know, friendly at the gym, but not that friendly. His discomfort (okay, fine, skepticism), apparent by the immediate sliding away of the eyes whenever the topic of my “work” came up, was clear enough. And, since I wasn’t there to disturb his chi or anything, I’d always let it go. But now, Stew had tears in his eyes and I wanted to help. Jim was asking me to help.

Should you share the messages you get? Share what you know, feel, see, hear?

I figured, well, what the heck. Spirit never steers me wrong. I had nothing to lose. Oh so gently I posited to Stew that it might help to know that Jim was feeling pretty good on the Other Side, at ease. That he knows his family misses him, but his death was what he chose because it was easier for everyone than it would have been had he hung around any longer—that a long illness toward death would have been even more painful for everyone. Jim was suggesting that Stew might want to think about writing a note to Jim’s wife to express Stew’s love for this kind-hearted man who thought as highly of Stew as Stew did of him.

Spirit will never guide you wrong.

This afternoon as I sit at my desk waiting for a client to arrive, I keep thinking about Stew and Jim and about the delicate space that exists around sharing when you aren’t at all sure how your sharing will be received. When my phone pinged I was a little surprised to see a text from Stew. We aren’t texting buddies, and in fact had never exchanged more than phone numbers. Still, I felt as if I’d been waiting for the message. Attached were two images, one of Jim as a young sportsman and one of him a couple of years prior to his recent passing. Stew, without admitting to any kind of belief around Spirit, had found a way to let me know, and let Jim know, that connecting with me had connected him to Jim…and that the connection had transmuted some of the ache he’d been holding due to his own guilt over letting the friendship fall by the wayside into a less troubled space. And Spirit, in this case, Jim, was assuring me I’d done the right thing by speaking up with love in my heart.

Miracle or not?

I call this a mini-miracle. I know, I know. Many might, even reasonably, disagree. I mean, what’s so miraculous about someone who absolutely positively doesn’t believe in “stuff like that” feeling potentially comforted by something someone like me or you says? Someone who, just perhaps, understands loss, death, dying, and matters of Spirit and is willing to express that in a moment of need? I’ll tell you.

Turns out, like with everything else, it’s all a matter of perspective. I never saw miracles in my life because I didn’t believe in them. I didn’t believe in them because I had a definition of what they were that couldn’t possibly be supported by “real life.” I also had a long history of hiding what I saw, felt, heard, sensed, knew, and believed when it might have rocked the proverbial boat of reason.

The thing is that keeping quiet is no longer an option. I want to share the loving messages I receive.

• I want to express my truth.
• I want to be authentic.
• I want to feel relaxed and in alignment.

None of which I can do or be if I’m hiding who I am. An HSP, a Highly Sensitive Person, and a person with unique talents and abilities to share.

What are you hiding that is begging to come out of the closet?