ODDISH

Photo: "Mrs. Cellophane"
Taken by spousal unit & edited by Skitch

NOW: 
     

I have been studying the Indigo child. Perhaps I am one. I have most of the criteria that I found listed on web sites, except I was born too early to fit this profile. I was born in 1967. I'm too old to be any kind of "child"! Indeed, I have never felt like a kid at all, but I've always had a child-like spirit, if you will. If other Indigo souls share that feeling it seems odd to call them children at all. I did find the phrase “Alpha Indigo” on one web site relating to older Indigo children, but there is a lot of information to sift through and I don't know if I am Indigo or just plain weird. Either one is certainly fine with me. 

Perhaps my oddness is all in my mind. (Maybe we are all so different from others that everyone feels as unusual as I do.) Perhaps the curious distinctions of the Indigo children are all in our minds. (Haven't children with these traits been born throughout history?) But perhaps, just perhaps, we can discover some truths on this subject by looking at it together!

I have organized all my unusual facts and my oddnesses into categories: 


Heritage:

I believe I am of Melungeon heritage.

My parents are distant relatives (sixth or seventh cousins, they say.)

My father is the seventh son of a seventh son.

My parents tell of an asteroid shower that occurred when my mother was pregnant with me.

I know the story of my conception and it is music. I was conceived ten, twelve, and fourteen years after my sisters. My parents attended a Johnny Cash and June Carter concert out of town. The music left them romantic, but they had forgotten the "protection" at home. Thus they were unprotected from me, and I was born nine months later, at about one a.m. on a rainy night and under a new moon. Thus I was born of music, darkness, and rain. I play no instruments, but I'd love to, and I love all music and feel it in my soul. I have always been a pluviophile, and insomniac, and a nyctophiliac.


Birth:

I was born a "blue baby". My navel cord was twisted around my neck in what my mother has told me was a "perfect bow". I could not breathe for my first few minutes outside the womb. I've often wondered if oxygen deprivation had anything to do with how unusual I am.

My parents had so anticipated a boy that they had no girl name chosen. My aunt was allowed to name me.

I was born with one pointed ear (like Spock.)


Childhood and Family:

At about three or four months old (I could not sit upright yet without props) my mother discovered that I would be content for long periods of time if she would place a book (no pictures required) in front of me. She says I would not tear or wrinkle the book, and in fact would run my finger along the line of print and babble as though I were reading in some foreign language. This rather frightened some of my relatives.

My father tells me that when I was a baby he saw a vision of me. I crawled up to him when he was deep in a coal mine and kissed him sadly on the cheek. He became upset and left the mine, minutes later it collapsed.

My father also tells me I suffered from insomnia even as a baby and that I would listen to him tell stories deep into the night.

I have a startling amount of memories of my early years. I have at least a dozen clear memories of my life before I was three years old.

I was potty trained by thirteen months.

I had a difficult childhood, somewhat abusive and far from "normal". My mother's parents were alcoholics and she suffered terrible neglect and abuse at their hands and worse abuse at the hands of other men that they allowed around her. Because of this atrocity she later became agoraphobic and paranoid. She suffered from clinical depression and, from the time I was eight until after I left home at 18, she slept all but five to seven hours of the day. She was only able to be at ease when I was in the home, so I was rarely allowed to leave except for school. I was told that I would not attend school at all if my mother had her way, but that because of a law I must attend or I would be taken from my parents.

Despite her many other maladies, my mother never had a headache until she was in her late sixties and it was medically induced due to some drug they gave her.

My mother called me "the peacemaker" because as a child I hated discord. I hated to see her angry or hateful, and I found myself often trying to reason with her. I wanted her to see the motivation behind the actions of of others when she was upset with them. I felt that if she could understand she would be less hurt or angry by their actions; instead she felt I was being disloyal. She was not happy with this bent in me and she quickly turned the word "peacemaker" into a curse of sorts. She would spit the word at me in much the same manner one might say the word "asshole".

My mother has many times accused me of living "above my raising" or "putting on airs". I was accused of expecting the best in the world. She told me I wanted to be royalty and should have been born to "some rich family".

I have long felt like my mother's mother, and had a deep desire to protect my father and one of my sisters (the one living at home) from my mom's temper. I felt I could endure her wrath, but they were not strong enough.

My father and two living sisters were all maternal toward me. In some ways I had four mothers.

My sister Lila and I once had a conversation about feeling "different". We agreed that we at least see life differently than most, find more joy in simple things, and that we appreciate life more that most of the people we know.

Except for the fact that I have curly hair, I look like an older sister name Patricia who died at eleven months old. Hearing this sometimes made me feel like a “walking ghost”.

My oldest son has a perception problem and a low attention span for things that he is not naturally interested in.

My youngest son is calm and wise beyond his years.

Both my sons are highly intuitive to the moods and feelings of others, but my oldest is a bit more intuitive, I believe.


Teenage Years:


I created a newspaper advice column at the age of fifteen, and presented and sold the idea to the editor of our local newspaper. I then enlisted my older sisters to aid me with the project; I did so for their benefit and to stifle questions about my ability to run the column alone. I never doubted that I could properly advise my readers. I did not run the column long however. I allowed poor participation to discourage me and I regret that.

As a teen I would closet myself away for hours on end. I felt as if I were unable to tolerate the company of other humans. Perhaps I felt I was being smothered because teens are “moody”. Perhaps it is because I had more “alone time” as a child than when I was a teen. Whatever the reason, I found my insomnia worsening as I realized the solitude I longed for could now be found only at night. I got my days and nights mixed up in order to feel as though I had some calm and some privacy in my life.

When my friends were hoping to grow up to be rock stars and actors, I planned to work at a fire tower and write while I was there, in the quiet of the woods, at least 6-8 months out of the year. To this day, that would probably be an ideal job for me, but I had a family and felt I should be there on a daily basis for my sons.


Education and Learning:


I have a deep desire to learn and I wish I knew EVERYTHING!

I am an autodidact.

I sometimes make up words.

I did not do very well in school. I was rather anti social and considered that many of the kids I met there acted unthinkingly. My friends were sometimes the "outcasts" of the class. I was friendly with kids in every social standing, but did not understand them, nor feel understood by any of them. I was bored by much of the “wordy” school work and, at the same time, felt overwhelmed by the work requiring the use of numbers. Literature was my favorite subject, but even there I would read through all the lessons in advance and then find myself doing the same thing in that class that I did in the other wordy classes. I would daydream or read other books and stories while the teacher taught what I'd already gone over. In Math class, I tried to pay attention but often could not follow where the teacher was going. 

My parents did not encourage my education, and I was disallowed any extracurricular activities unless they could be done during school hours and required no money at all, as my mother “needed” me to be at home and we were very poor.

I've been diagnosed as dyslexic (meaning the perception problem not the inability to read.) I was also diagnosed as having "mixed dominance" dyscalculia, and an attention 'problem'. I have DID, which is to say, "multiple personalities". 

My mind wants to think many thoughts at once. It jumps from incomplete thought to incomplete thought. I could accomplish anything if I could focus more.


Spirituality:

At approximately age twelve I began to discuss the Bible with my parents. I pointed out inconsistencies in what they believed (alcohol as a sin, accepting racism as God's will, etc.) and in what they said they believed (the Bible). My parents argued with me but later came to more closely share my beliefs on some of these subjects. They will now admit that God looks more at our inside than our outside. My mother wears make up now and both she and my sister have short hair, both of which were "sins" when I was little. They no longer think braiding your hair is a sin. More importantly, they are less racists and will admit that Jesus drank "real" wine, though they still believe we should not drink alcohol even if He didn't specifically say we should not. 

People talk to me freely and openly. Very often I hear some version of this statement: "I don't know why I am spilling my guts to you. I never tell anyone these things!" I now call honesty my superpower. People tell me the truth eventually, if I look at and listen to them often enough. 


Physicality:

I used to have headaches very often, but in my forties headaches are infrequent.

I have endured what may be an unusual amount of physical pain: second and third degree burns, shingles, kidney stones, an ectopic pregnancy, two natural births, arthritis, and migraine headaches.



Intuition and the Unexplained:

I can often feel other people's emotions radiating off them. I sometimes become terribly upset when other's are filled with negativity. Sometimes I must get up and leave the room. Upon occasion a complete stranger will walk by me and I will find myself awash with misery as though it flowed from them and enveloped me in an emotional fog.

I have at least one "memory" I cannot explain.

As a teen I heard strange things in my home. My mother disputed my claims about the noises until I proved to her that there were indeed unexplainable sounds in our home.  

I saw a being that I've since come to refer to as an angel. I don't know if what I saw was an angel, but it is easy to call her that because I was not afraid and actually felt bathed in a sort of loving aura. My mother later said she saw this being and felt the same way.

I encountered a creature that was as evil as my "angel" was good. I did not see this one but heard it and felt it. This one emanated pure hatred.

Street lights blink off very frequently when I approach them. I had already noticed this, but one summer evening when my children and I were in a park I walked toward a street light and it went off. I walked away and it came on. My children were delighted by this and I did it about ten times for their entertainment. They were disappointed because when they walked toward the light it did not go on and off for them.

Security alarms sometimes go off when I pass by even if I have no purse or baggage of any kind. This happened to me almost constantly for a time, but happens less frequently now.

I am sure I received spiritual warnings about both my uncle's death and my father's health problems. My uncle's came as a feeling so intense that I sat bolt upright in bed and started crying for him. My father's as a volunteer flower in my yard-- morning glories, his favorite. They grew almost miraculously from a small clump of mud/stucco that had fallen off the side of the house.

My massage therapist gave me a Raki session and I saw vivid indigo lights behind my eyelids when his hands were near my neck.

I believe I "wished" a certain name (Shana) into my sister's mind when she was pregnant with my niece.

I did not become pregnant with my first child until I prayed for a baby. Though I had been having sex without protection for three years. I was tested and found pregnant within three weeks of the prayer and was told that I was three weeks along. I remember the prayer very well and consider it the date of conception for my first child.



Dreams:

All my life I have had strange dreams. I dream in colour, vividly, and often lucidly. Sometimes I fly. Occasionally I am not myself in these dreams but someone entirely different. I have been men, I have been other ethnicities, I have been animals, and (I think) an alien. My husband says I dream "movies". I use many of these dreams to inspire my writings. Writing is my passion. A few themes reoccur in my dreams: I am trapped in a small space, often under a building or house, I lose my teeth, usually my front teeth, I am in a huge house picking out a bedroom for myself and sometimes bedrooms for my kids.

As a pre-teen I had dreams that came true. Never the entire dream, but little slices of the dream would occur, usually the day after I had the dream.

Years ago I was asleep and felt as if my soul were sliding out of my body from the center of my chest. This seemed less a dream and more a reality. It concerned me and I forced myself awake. I wonder, was this a dream or the beginning of an OBE?


Attitudes:

I am not of superior intelligence. I test between 113 and 148 on IQ tests, but I think of myself as a very intelligent person. I love my own blend of intelligence. When interacting with people of higher intellect than myself I am never humbled. I see and appreciate their strengths; I respect their knowledge and learn from them. But I always have the feeling that I have things to teach them as well. I believe that I have a knowledge combination that is mine alone, as unique as my fingerprint, and is my own gift to share with the world.

I feel wise beyond my years. What is it I know that makes me so assured? What is it I fancy I know? Is it some secret of the universe? Does everyone have the secret? Do they have it within reach but reject it? Is it the undiluted meaning of life? Is it a clearer appreciation of life and love? I'm not sure. But I am sure that I want to discover my wisdom better-- and share it.

I have a stronger respect for life than most of the people that I know; (I step over ants on the sidewalk, etc) but this may have been taught me by my sister Lila, as she is this way as well.

Despite my strong respect for life I suspect I could take one if I had to and suffer little to no repercussions. If some innocent were in danger of being killed by another I think I could kill the one that endangered them and never lose a wink of sleep. Especially if the endangered ones were my kids or grandkids, my husband, anyone in my family.  

I crave solitude. I write about it. I dream about it. Being with most people exhausts me. Yet, when I find someone I can connect with I long for them and am rarely uncomfortable in their presence.

I am very emotional but fear is something I seldom feel.

I am artistically creative in many ways. I write everything from blurbs, to blogs, to poems, to novels. I have plans for self-help articles, for cookbooks, for sci-fi short stories. I write in every genre. I love to sketch. I am a happy photographer. I enjoy pottery and sewing. Almost any form of artistic creativity seduces me.

I am here for the benefit of the world and the world is here for my benefit. My purpose is to help others and to improve life. But at the same time, the gentle breeze, the faithful sunset, the scent of honeysuckle, the sound of frogs on a spring night-- all are gifts to me.

I have a deep assurance of fame. I know that the world will acknowledge my fame one day. It doesn't matter if I am famous (by their standards) before or after I die. By my own standards I am famous now.

I am fiercely independent. When I was a child my father and sisters were there for me, and my mother to the degree she could function, still my sister Lila (who mothered me most) swears that I “raised myself”.

I believe strongly in autonomy.

I've often been described as an "old soul".

I witnessed a jealous murder at the age of thirteen. Later a dear friend was also murdered because of jealousy. Her father and her thirteen month old daughter were also killed in the massacre. Because of this I abhor jealousy.

I have always been "different". When I have tried to explain this to others they misunderstood, telling me that we all feel unique. I don't feel unique; I am different.

All my life I've faced accusations of arrogance, but I feel that these accusations don't fit. I don't believe myself superior; I believe we are all "better". But I find that I am nearly alone in this belief. Perhaps I am not arrogant but enlightened. I think we are all better than "they" (most people) think they are. I don't want to rise above others but to tug them up to my level-- where we all belong. Still, if I cannot do that, I will not lower myself to their level. I feel frustrated by my accusers. It is as if I were forced to watch them sit and play in a putrid puddle, smearing mud in their blind eyes and drinking the foul water. They refuse to move or to even stand up and peek over a dune, when the beach and the ocean, with all its wonders, lies just over the rise and fresh drinking water is a short walk away. Yet each time I try to share the ocean or the fresh water with them I am called "arrogant". I am told that I'm “living above my raising” or “ putting on airs.” I am met with hostility. They rant and rave at me. When they calm they invite me into their puddle... No thanks, I'll play in the ocean and drink from the stream.