Gifted

When I was 8 or 9, I was identified as “gifted”.

I had scored in the 99th percentile on standardized tests and my teachers noticed that I wasn’t being challenged in the classroom. 

My parents were called into the school and were told I was being given an opportunity to develop my “gifts” in a special program. 

I remember being pulled out of class. I remember walking through the hallway and the words “99th percentile” echoing in my ears. I didn’t really know it meant. I remember the hallway was empty. 

The next thing I remember I was sitting in a small room with 4 or 5 other kids, seated at a faux-wood table. I distinctly remember feeling awkward and uncomfortable. I don’t remember who the other kids were.

I had just moved to New Hampshire that year. 

Fast-forward to 5th grade, when I tested out of math. I was advanced to the class with the 6th graders, and I remember everyone looking at me, confused, “what is she doing here”? Then, I tested out of that class too. 

The next memory is of me sitting in a room with my teacher, crying hysterically that I missed my friends. 

What the “gifted” program failed to account for, were the social effects of being told you are special. 

I fell through the cracks of the system in 7th grade, literally,and learned how to explore my consciousness. 

By 9th grade I was often running away, and when I would make it to school I was bullied by the “smart” kids and “popular” kids alike. 

By 10th grade I was diagnosed with oppositional defiant disorder, and placed on a state program called “Child in Need of Services”. I had a probation officer who would drug test me in school three times per week. I went to court once a month. I was on house arrest at one point. 

My teachers still placed me in Honors level classes, even though I rarely showed up. 

By 11th grade I had mostly dropped out of high school, as I was more interested in dropping acid & mushrooms by that point. 

I officially earned my GED and started college early — in what would have been my senior year. 

Since then I have spent much of my life feeling like a freak failure with something to prove. 

A quick google search of “gifted children” shows that many of us end up dropping out, bored, lost, or feeling isolated in a school environment. 

With this one simple search, I suddenly realized that I was not alone. There are others out there like me. There are others that feel this intensely, that constantly seek the “why”, that prefer their books and thoughts to people and have always wondered why they seem to not fit in just right. 

But, still, what does it mean? 

What the f*ck does it mean? 

I remembered all of this story on a recent MDMA journey. One where my intention was to explore my relationship to belonging.

I realized that I was angry. 

I was angry that I had been told I was special, but never supported to find out what that meant. 

I was angry that I had spent a lifetime trying to “prove” something, that I had already proved on a test 25 years before. But, no one had ever explained the cryptic results.

Now, at 34, I can sit with what these “gifts” are. 

What was it about me that was uncovered in those early years? 

What energy has been trying to come through me all this time?

I had an astrology reading yesterday that solidified what I have always known…

I am here to continue the work I have always done. I am here to heal, to feel,

to work with the realm of the ancestors.  I am here to speak truth, to share what I learn in my inner-explorations. Authentically and confidently. 

I am here to do what we have always done to pray, to dream, to listen, to learn, and to adapt to the new ways of our world — fearlessly. Utilizing technology to share our ancient memories, the messages that guide us back to the sacred. 

I am not meant to hide my gifts anymore. 

I am not meant to cry and say it’s too much anymore. 

I am meant to stand rooted, with one foot in each world, to share and speak the visions from the fire inside that inspire me.

I don’t yet know exactly what this will look like. But, I am excited to find out. 

I feel validated in someway now that I am integrating this part of my story. I feel seen, even if just by myself. 

I can now love and appreciate that curious, optimistic, intuitive, intelligent child. I can wrap her in a blanket of belonging, and explain that she doesn’t have to be isolated anymore, she doesn’t need to be ripped away from her friends and community because she is different. She can be free to express it all, right here. I can welcome her into adulthood with loving compassion and show her the beauty and power of her gifts.