I lived 18 years in a chaotic house hold with four older siblings. I never had it easy, but I never saw it as a struggle. At a very young age I had been open-minded and self-assure. My mom often called me an “old soul” for how empathetic I was to others. It wasn’t until middle school and those awkward pre-teen years where I developed low-self esteem. I wasn’t beautiful and I didn’t try to be. Being ridiculed for being different, I tended to stay on my own. I came to understand that I was different than other children and that I might never find a place where I could belong, and I came to terms with that. I always had a select few close friends, but none that remained that way over the years. More often than not I had girls who were rude to me for reasons I didn’t know; bullies that would ridicule me in front of their friends because I never had the courage to fight back. I didn’t care enough about them or myself to do anything about it. I did what made me feel better. Reading, walking through nature, and talking to the people I loved. As I grew into a young woman, shedding the baby fat and glasses from former years, I came to grasp a level of self-preservation. In High School I made friends, mostly they were all in grades above me, and I never stuck to one clique or group or had one of my own. I accepted that I never fit into one and I didn’t care, as long as I got by with who and what I had. Those were tough years. My family broke apart like an earthquake came and only hit our house on the block. Even then I managed to keep honor roll and maintain myself. I think it was the love I got from the little support I had. I had a boyfriend. I had friends. And I had barely spent any time at my own home. Instead I tried so badly to live in theirs. I would even go to other peoples holidays or important trips, and from those I felt the connection that I didn’t possess with my own family. Things got rougher but my skin grew thicker. It became hard to break me after I’d been through so much already. But like everyone else, I had melting points, break downs, doubts, wonders, and I bet a minor case of depression, but I fought that through. My warrior spirit guided me into self-healing by introducing me to things I came to find great interest in, such as tarot, playing guitar, painting, and reading poetry (Sylvia Plath has a key to my soul). After what I consider the most grueling four years of my life, I made it through. I hate that I still hold on to some anger of the past. That I wish I could have had an easier childhood and that the people from the past wouldn’t have treated me as they did. But if it weren’t for those things I wouldn’t be who I am right now, as I write this. I wouldn’t have grown nearly as strong, and for that I am grateful. For that, I know God has a big purpose for me to fulfill. Now I’m in college, in a town full of Indigos of all hues and variations. My spirituality was awakened here. Listening and talking to people who are on the same wavelength as I am, hearing from a reiki master about who and what I truely am, I became empowered. I came to learn that I was an indigo from my friends who recognized me as one, and that I am from the “Angel realm” and will supposedly “change the world” when I am older (as said by this reiki master). I came to understand myself and this world just a bit more clearly. And I am so happy with the way things are going, and where they WILL go. For now I’m just enjoying my time learning and teaching concepts and ideas that are much more than “outside of the box”. For now, I’m just going to take it all in, one day at a time.