The Bullied Gift: Embracing My Psychic Journey Despite the Naysayers

Life has a funny way of fucking with you, doesn’t it? From being bullied as a kid for being different to dealing with my in-laws’ religious bullshit as an adult, it's like the universe constantly tests my patience and resilience. Today, I’m diving into the deep end of this madness to share my story—raw and unfiltered.

I was that kid. The one everyone picked on because I didn’t fit into their neat little boxes. I tried, believe me. I tried to be what they wanted, to blend in, but it never worked. My gifts made me a target, and instead of nurturing them, the world tried to snuff them out. You know, I even tried the Christianity thing once. Spoiler alert: it didn’t fucking fit. Then came Paganism—nope, still not me. I read about others like me, those blessed (or cursed, depending on how you see it) with psychic abilities, and there was a common thread: most of us had lived through some serious trauma.

It's no accident. Trauma and bullying make you detach from the physical world. You learn to live in your head, in your spirit, and that’s where the magic happens. I’m writing a book about this shit because it’s crucial for people to understand that being psychic isn’t about religion or belief systems. It’s about survival. It’s about transcending the pain and finding power in the very thing that tried to break you.

My own childhood was a nightmare. Born on October 7, 1986, I was abandoned at two, tossed around from one shitty foster home to another until a Mormon family took me in. And fuck, were they worse than all the rest. They told me I was nothing, that my gifts were demonic, that my very existence was a sin. They even stole my son, Caleb, when he was just two, repeating the same cursed cycle I’d endured. You see, generational curses are real. My biological father died with a hole in his heart when he was two, brought back to life only to pass away again on my birthday just months after we finally met.

This curse? It’s something beyond our control, passed down through lifetimes or by the fucked-up family tree we didn’t choose. But here’s the thing: it also gave me my gifts. Life isn’t just what you see. There are layers, dimensions, and alternate realities right here, right now. Our eyes deceive us, limiting our perception to this physical plane when there are entire cities in the sky, beautiful and hidden from us.

And now, married to a Christian man whose parents think I’m in league with the devil, I still face the same old shit. But I’m done trying to fit into boxes. I’m done explaining myself to people who’ll never understand. What I do is what I was born to do. It’s in my blood, in my soul, and no amount of religious dogma or societal pressure can change that.

Everything happens for a reason, even the painful, ugly parts of life. They mold us, shape us into who we’re meant to be. My journey, as twisted and dark as it’s been, has led me to a place of profound understanding and strength. And I trust in that journey because it’s leading me somewhere amazing.

So to all of you out there feeling trapped by your past, burdened by others' ignorance, know this: you’re not alone. Your gifts, your pain, your story—they matter. Embrace them. Fuck the naysayers. Life is deeper and more magical than anyone can comprehend, and you, my friend, are a testament to that mystery.

Stay strong, stay weird, and never let them dull your sparkle.

Demetri Welsh

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