Messengers, Janitors, & Energy (Saints & Haints, Chapter 5)

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"'Some don't know they're dead...' This is an 'explanation' of spirits that you'll hear from a lot of... confused mediums. I have interacted with these guys enough to know that couldn't possibly be true. They literally float. They can be inside your mattress or sofa. There is literally no way they don't know they're dead.
But, don't take my word for it. Here's a quote, directly from one of them, on that topic:
'Yeah, the change in format is immediately recognizable. If you no longer have fingers and toes, yous gonna knows...'"

-from my makingfunofdemons social media,
February 11, 2022


So... S. Yeah. Well, after what seemed like a good enough beginning, once I got to know him slightly better, I found him to be wishy-washy, unreliable, and possessed of a... well, we'll say a "protective" energy. He seemed to have flare-ups of passion, but then he would revert back to not even speaking to me for days at a time.

For example, one of the longest conversations we ever had at work was this:
One night I had a psychotic customer to get mad, throw a flashlight, and then leave the store cursing. When S came over a little while later, I asked him,
"Did you hear that guy go out the door cussing?"
He replied,
"Cussing you?"
He glanced quickly towards the door, as if he hoped the guy would still be in sight. Anger flared in his eyes, and he looked as if he'd welcome a good fight.
I said,
"Yeah, he got pissed off about this flashlight and threw it."
S responded, emphatically,
"He threw it at you??!!" 
His voice elevated to a frantic pitch as the question ended, and I noticed his fists clenching at his sides. He was still eyeing the door.
I calmed him down by saying,
"No, no! Not at me! He only threw it on the floor, that's all!" 
He seemed okay then, and after chatting for a moment longer, he went on about his work.

Obviously, I cannot claim that I had no indication that something was off about S; but if I'm honest, I kinda liked that side of him. There might have been some little part of me that applauded that hot-tempered response; some part of me that felt like,
"Yesss!!! Go kick that guy's ass!"
It happens, when you've been working with the public for too long.

S would be like that, and then not talk to me for days. Some days he'd seem to be actively avoiding me. This went on and on, for three miserably long months. In all that time, we never actually went out; we only flirted a little at work or on Facebook, whenever he was speaking to me, and that was it. Still, I was getting all these signs (some more of which I'll describe in detail later on) that he was the one for me, so I persevered for longer than I normally would have. Besides, I had this intuition that he wasn't really that way; that what I was seeing was some sort of user interface, or fake public persona, and that I hadn't actually met the real man yet. My demons made shaint jokes about the situation, such as,
"Maybe he ain't a single man..."
Or,
"Maybe he's seeing people behind your back..."
...which allude, respectively, to either him or me being possessed.


One night, during a texting conversation, he told me that he had been raised Catholic. I'd had no idea. When I told him that I'm Catholic too, a convert (well, I attend a Catholic church at least, but we'll get to that later on too); he asked me what had brought me to Catholicism. I was scared to death to tell him the truth. I had already told him about my abusive last relationship, which was something I had been very apprehensive about revealing. That was nothing, however, when compared with telling a guy I liked that I'm a psychic medium. I knew that both of those were facts that might've caused some people to view me as damaged goods. But, then, I thought to myself,
"No, no, he's the man for you, and this just might be a huge proof. He'll accept you. He'll believe you."
So I told him,
"Well, this might come as a big surprise, but actually I'm a medium. That led me to Catholicism, simply because Catholics teach about demons and unclean spirits and all that."
His first response was,
"A medium? I don't buy into that. You shouldn't try to talk to spirits. Believe me, you don't want to talk to the dead."
He didn't explain what he meant by that last part, and I didn't push for an explanation; because, at the time, I was too concerned with making sure he truly understood my situation, that I'm not the sort of medium who does readings. I said, in my defense,
"You don't have to tell me that, I know that! What I'm saying is that I'm a natural medium. I don't try to talk to them. There's a difference!"
Then he just said,
"Oh."
He didn't seem to want to discuss it any further. He did, however, assure me that he believed me, and at least he didn't treat me like a crazy person. I remember ending that conversation with,
"Well, now you know my darkest secrets."

My demons started calling him "Ironman" after that, which I understood to be a reference to Proverbs 27:17, "Iron sharpens iron;" and more specifically to the fact that I had seen that phrase used as a slogan for a Christian dating site. They'd say things like,
"Yeah, he's your Ironman alright; your demon-slaying husband-to-be."

Of course, they also made a lot of fun of him when he was being an asshole to me. Since he worked in the lumberyard section of the store, they'd call him a "lumberjackass," a "lumberjerk," a "lumberjealous," a "lumberdumbass," or a "lumbergeraldine." Sometimes they called him "Tough Actin' Tinactin," or proclaimed,
"He's as cheesy as they make 'em, without putting 'em in an oven and baking 'em."
Mostly though, they'd say that, despite appearances, he must be a Catholic saint-in-the-making, if he was the one for me.

One of the funniest, and most surprising things to me, was this:
One day, when S was not speaking, and had stomped past me, completely ignoring me, my demons commented,
"Well, there goes Saint Bitchy-ass."
While I was snort-laughing about that hilariously accurate assessment, I happened to glance at the clock. It was 3:33. Then I had a short vision. It wasn't the first, but it was one of the first that I recognized as being an actual vision. It was a little animation of a blonde female angel. She had a huge grin on her face, and she tilted her head to one side and nodded very deliberately in agreement, as if to say,
"Yep! You got that right!"
I laughed even harder.
My demons, having also seen the vision in my mind, said,
"That right there must've been one of the only times in history when you and us and them all agreed!"
Here's an artistic impression of what the character in that vision looked like:

And this one blew me away:
One night, when I was upset about S and how he had been behaving, I got on Facebook and one of the first things I saw was a meme which read:

"Why is it Iron-Man,
and not Fe-male?"

This joke is not for everyone."


Sometimes, when I was sitting quietly, I would start to think about S, and I would sense that someone in the spirit world was guiding my thoughts. I would begin to feel that I was understanding things about his life and situation. The revelations wouldn't be in words; they would be more like ideas, hints, or concept downloads, as I began to call them. I started to perceive that someone was telling me that his family life was complicated; and that he was, perhaps, a victim of narcissistic parenting. On my social media, I ran across several articles about enmeshed families, and I felt that someone was telling me,
"That." 
I kept getting the message, "Enmeshment."

I noticed multiple efforts from the spirit world to cheer me up during those days whenever I was feeling especially blue, whether it was to do with S or with something else entirely. It's very difficult for an empath to work with the public. We literally have to rest after being around people all day, even if we only stood at a cash register and didn't even do that much physically. We're zapped by the end of the day; deflated.

I've always known that I was this way, but I only recently acknowledged that empathy is the cause of it. I actually spent a lot of years thinking that I was simply lazy; but that was never the case, and it's far worse now. Well, it's both better and worse. My sensitivity is more heightened; but at the same time, I'm also more resilient. Still, yucky energy sucks, and I'm worn out by the time I get home, every time I leave the house for any reason. When you think about it, that says a hell of a lot about the general population, because I am never alone; I have demons around me all the time, even at home. Therefore, what I'm saying is that a good number of living people feel worse to be around than they do.

Anyway, I noticed that sometimes when I was feeling blue, a person with beautiful energy would come along and cheer me up. Two instances I remember particularly, are these: On one such night, an elderly man came through my checkout line. He had to have been 70 years old, but he was handsome still; tall, with neatly cut snow white hair. He was wearing a white shirt, and he literally almost glowed; and not just because of all the white. It was almost as if I could see an aura around him, and I had never seen anything like that. He had a friendly smile, and he greeted me by name, which surprised me a little bit, until I realized,
"Oh, duh. I am wearing a nametag."
Somehow, though, I kinda got the impression that he hadn't read it. He asked me how I was doing. He asked about my ankle, which was in a brace, due to an old injury. Somehow though, I never noticed him looking at my ankle either. It was really weird, and it shouldn't have been; but it almost seemed as if he already knew those things. The questions he asked seemed sincere, not like small talk. Before he left, he looked me in the eyes and said,
"You know what, Justa? I have a feeling that everything is gonna be alright."
I totally felt better after that interaction. I felt as if my energy had been cleansed or something.

Yet another evening, a lady who was deaf came through my line. She was buying flowers. Of course I didn't realize at first that she was deaf, but she told me so with hand gestures. I made an extra effort to look at her directly while speaking because I assumed that she read lips. That's all I did; other than that, I treated her exactly the same as any other customer. I smiled and thanked her for her purchase. She smiled back sweetly, and much to my surprise, she blew me a kiss. Then she gave me one of the flowers she'd just bought. And again, just like that, I felt restored.

After one such interaction, one of my demons commented,
"Yeah... they'll put some janitors on the schedule, if you're feeling down."