From Childhood Spirit Sightings to Psychic Practice Influenced by Nursing
Some people find their spiritual path later in life. Mine was never really hidden from me. It was there in the corner of my childhood bedroom, sitting quietly on a chair, wearing a beard, bringing comfort before I had the words to explain what I was seeing.
I grew up in a little mining village in Nottinghamshire. It was an ordinary place in many ways, with close neighbours, family routines, school days, Christmas cards strung across the room, and all the small details that make a childhood. But threaded through that ordinary life was something I could never dismiss.
I have seen and spoken with spirit for as long as I can remember.
At the time, I did not call it mediumship. I did not understand psychic awareness, spirit guides, energy, or development circles. I was simply a child experiencing what was in front of me. Some of it felt comforting. Some of it felt strange. Some of it became frighteningly important.
This is the story of how those early experiences shaped me, how I moved through doubt and fear, and how my life as a registered nurse, a mother, and a developing psychic medium now sits alongside the spiritual practice I offer today.
My first memory of spirit was gentle
My first clear memory of seeing spirit was the “man with the beard”.
He would sit on a chair in the corner of my bedroom when I was little. I remember him as kind. There was nothing threatening about him. He was present, calm, and familiar in a way that did not make sense to my young mind.
One Christmas, we had cards hanging on pieces of string, as many families did. I remember wanting to take them down. My mum thought I had climbed up on the furniture to reach them, but I hadn't. The man with the beard had passed them to me.
To a child, that felt simple. I asked, or I needed help, and he helped.
It was only later that I understood who he was. He was my grandad, who had passed away in January 1983.
That knowledge changed the shape of the memory. What had once been a strange childhood moment became something deeper. It was not just a “ghost story”. It was connection. It was family. It was love continuing in a way I could see and feel, even when others could not.
I know some people will read that and wonder if a child could have imagined it. I understand that. As a nurse, I value clear thinking, evidence, and careful observation. As a psychic medium, I also know that some experiences carry a truth that is difficult to fit into everyday explanation.
That early memory stayed with me because it was not dramatic. It was not there to scare me. It was a quiet act of kindness from someone I loved, even though I was too young to know the full story.
My childhood was full of spooky moments I did not yet understand
As I grew, the experiences continued.
I became the child who told ghost stories to friends. I was drawn to the spooky, the unseen, and the mysterious. I didn't always handle that wisely. Like many young people curious about the spirit world, I once stupidly instigated a Ouija board session at school.
Looking back, I would never encourage that now.
There is a big difference between curiosity and development. Curiosity can be impulsive. Development asks for respect, grounding, boundaries, and support. At the time, I had none of that. I only knew that I could sense things and that the spirit world seemed much closer to me than it did to other people.
That can be lonely for a child.
When you grow up seeing, hearing, or sensing spirit, you quickly learn that not everyone wants to talk about it. Some people laugh. Some dismiss it. Some get frightened. So you learn to test the room before you speak. You learn when to share and when to stay quiet.
For years, I carried my “spooky weirdness” as something that was part of me, but not something I fully understood. It was there at the edges of ordinary life. Sometimes it felt like a gift. Sometimes it felt like a burden. Often, it felt like both.
What I know now is that sensitivity needs care. Psychic awareness is not just about seeing spirit or receiving messages. It is also about knowing how to live well with that openness.
For me, that learning came much later.
A voice in the night changed everything
The most profound experience I had with spirit as a child came in the early hours of the morning.
I heard a disembodied voice instruct me to look out of my bedroom window.
It was clear enough that I listened.
When I looked out, I saw a neighbour creeping about in her nightwear. Something was very wrong. She set fire to another neighbour’s house.
What happened next has never left me.
Because I listened to that voice, my parents were alerted. The neighbours were woken. The girl who lived in the house was able to escape. She jumped from the front window into the arms of my dad and another neighbour.
Had I ignored the voice, she may not have survived.
That is a heavy thing to carry as a child. It was terrifying, confusing, and deeply serious. It also confirmed something I could not explain away. Spirit had not spoken to entertain me. Spirit had spoken for a reason.
That moment shaped the way I understand my sensitivity. It taught me that spiritual awareness is not always soft or comforting. Sometimes it interrupts. Sometimes it warns. Sometimes it asks us to act quickly, even when we do not understand the full picture.
I do not share this story to sensationalise it. I share it because it was one of the moments that made me realise the unseen world was not separate from ordinary life. It could touch real events, real people, and real consequences.
Listening to spirit is not about drama. Sometimes it is about trust, timing, and the courage to respond.
That experience stayed with me through adulthood. Even when life became busy, even when I stepped into nursing, motherhood, marriage, and responsibility, that knowing remained somewhere inside me.
Nursing taught me care, boundaries, and presence
Fast forward many years, and my life looked very different.
I became a registered nurse. I became a mother to two daughters. My days became full of practical care, responsibility, and the emotional reality of supporting people through some of their most vulnerable moments.
Nursing taught me a kind of presence that is hard to learn anywhere else.
It taught me to listen properly. Not just to words, but to tone, body language, fear, silence, and the things people struggle to say. It taught me to stay calm when situations are difficult. It taught me the importance of dignity, consent, confidentiality, and boundaries.
Those values now sit at the heart of my spiritual work.
I do not see my nursing background and psychic development as two separate versions of me. They are both rooted in care. They both ask for integrity. They both remind me that when someone comes to you in a vulnerable place, you have a responsibility to meet them with respect.
My nursing experience also keeps me grounded.
Spiritual work should never replace medical care, mental health support, or practical help when those are needed. I hold that boundary clearly. My spiritual practice is about guidance, comfort, insight, and connection. It is not a substitute for professional healthcare advice.
That matters to me because I have seen how easily people can be overwhelmed when they are grieving, frightened, or searching for answers. A good practitioner should not feed fear. They should not create dependence. They should not claim power over someone else’s life.
For me, ethical practice means:
Working with compassion and honesty
Knowing when to speak and when to stay quiet
Respecting grief and vulnerability
Encouraging personal choice
Keeping spiritual guidance grounded in real life
These are not just professional values. They are personal ones.
The end of my marriage brought me back to myself
There are times in life when everything familiar changes. For me, the end of my marriage became one of those turning points.
It was painful, but it also created space. For the first time in a long while, I began to focus on myself and my own healing. I started to ask what I needed, who I was becoming, and what parts of me I had pushed aside.
That was when I was steered back onto my spiritual journey in a more conscious way.
I met a wonderful Reiki practitioner. She saw something in me that I was still learning to accept. She recognised that I was psychic and invited me along to her mediumship circles and development classes.
That invitation changed everything.
Until then, my spiritual experiences had often felt private, random, or difficult to explain. In development circles, I found structure. I found language. I found other people who understood what it meant to sense spirit, receive impressions, and work with energy.
Most of all, I found encouragement.
This Reiki practitioner became one of my biggest supporters. She offered guidance, patience, and belief at a time when I needed all three. She helped me see that my sensitivity was not something to hide or fear. It was something to understand, develop, and use with care.
Healing did not happen all at once. It rarely does. But through Reiki, mediumship circles, and spiritual development, I began to come home to myself.
I learned to trust my own awareness again.
I learned that my experiences had not been random pieces of a strange childhood. They were part of a path that had been unfolding for years.
Development made my gift safer, clearer, and more grounded
Mediumship development has been one of the most important parts of my journey.
Natural sensitivity is one thing. Trained, grounded practice is another.
Over time, I have met wonderful psychic mediums who have influenced me in positive ways. Each one has taught me something different. Some taught me about evidence in mediumship. Some taught me about sitting in the power. Some taught me about protection, intention, and how to build a stronger relationship with spirit guides.
Good development gave me a framework.
It helped me understand the difference between imagination, emotion, and spirit communication. It helped me notice how messages come through for me. Sometimes that may be through words, images, feelings, sensations, or a strong sense of knowing.
It also taught me humility.
No medium is above learning. No psychic practitioner should stop developing. The work asks for ongoing reflection because people place trust in you. That trust should be treated as sacred.
My spirit guides now help shape my practice and what I offer. I feel guided in the way I work, the tools I use, and the kind of support I provide. I do not see that guidance as something that makes me more important. I see it as something that keeps me connected to purpose.
The practice I deliver today has been shaped by many things:
The child who saw her grandad in the corner of the room
The young person who learned that spirit could warn and protect
The nurse who understands care, ethics, and human vulnerability
The mother who knows love can stretch us and strengthen us
The woman who healed after heartbreak and found her way back
All of these parts matter.
My practice today is shaped by spirit and grounded in care
When I think about my journey now, I can see how each stage prepared me.
Childhood opened the door. Nursing gave me grounding. Motherhood deepened my compassion. The end of my marriage pushed me back towards healing. Reiki and mediumship development gave me support, structure, and confidence.
Today, my spiritual work is guided by spirit, but it is also deeply human.
I believe people often seek spiritual guidance when they are at a threshold. They may be grieving, questioning, changing, healing, or trying to understand what they already sense within themselves. They may not need grand promises. They may simply need a safe space, a steady presence, and a connection that feels meaningful.
That is the kind of practice I aim to offer.
A psychic or mediumistic reading, for me, should be handled with respect. It should leave a person feeling clearer, not more confused. It should support, not frighten. It should remind people of their own inner strength, not take it away from them.
My journey has not been neat. It has been emotional, strange, beautiful, painful, and deeply personal. Yet when I look back, I can see a thread running through it all.
Spirit was there in my childhood bedroom.
Spirit was there in the urgent voice that told me to look out of the window.
Spirit was there when I needed healing.
Spirit was there in the people who recognised my gift and helped me develop it.
And spirit is still here now, guiding me as I continue to grow.
The path continues
I do not believe my journey is finished. In many ways, it feels as though I am still becoming.
Development continues. Healing continues. Learning continues. I remain grateful for the people who have supported me, especially the Reiki practitioner who recognised my ability and encouraged me when I needed direction.
I am also grateful for the child I once was, the one who spoke to the man with the beard and didn't yet know he was her grandad. She didn't have the language, but she had the experience. She didn't have training, but she had trust.
That trust is still part of my work today.
From a little mining village in Nottinghamshire to nursing, motherhood, healing, and psychic practice, my path has taught me that spirit often speaks through the ordinary moments. A chair in the corner. A voice in the night. A chance meeting with the right teacher. A quiet pull to return to yourself.
The gift is not only in seeing spirit. The gift is learning how to honour it with kindness, responsibility, and an open heart.
Comments