Do you have a secret? Do you worry that people will think you are crazy if you reveal it? Dr. Catherine P. Perry hid some secrets like that. Be inspired, entertained, and empowered as Catherine brings you along her compelling and liberating journey out of what she coined "the spiritual closet." A so-called coventional psychotherapist, Catherine Perry secretly used her psychic and metaphysical healing gifts to help her clients. That is, until a bizarre chain of events catapulted her into an archeological dig; there, she performed an autopsy of her past. She discovered a heart still beating in the child she once was. Spirits guided her to her true identity, to acknowledge and express who she is-not who society expects her to be, and to solve the mystery of why she feared being known as a psychic and mystic-one who receives direct communication from God, angels, spirits, etc. Paying attention to her intuitive and spiritual guidance led Catherine to the greatest freedom: to express herself authentically, be the authority of her truths, and never again to fear the opinions of others. Courageous Wake demonstrates the potential in all humans to grow beyond old childhood perceptions and social conditioning. The story is an elixir for the searching soul, an accelerator of personal growth, and a call to action for people to come out of whatever closets they are hiding in.

Courageous Wake

By Catherine P. Perry

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2009 Dr. Catherine P. Perry, M.Ed, DD
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4490-4112-0

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS..................................................7CHAPTER 1 FIRST, A LITTLE BACKGROUND..............................15CHAPTER 2 AN EXPENSIVE CUP OF TEA.................................33CHAPTER 3 GO HER WAY..............................................40CHAPTER 4 FOLLOW MY OWN ADVICE....................................48CHAPTER 5 BORN WITH THE GIFT......................................53CHAPTER 6 WHY I HOLD MYSELF BACK..................................66CHAPTER 7 AND THE LIGHT BEINGS CAME...............................73CHAPTER 8 SHE DREADED LOOKING AT HER WOUND........................78CHAPTER 9 SYNCHRONICITY...........................................83CHAPTER 10 CARPE DIEM.............................................94CHAPTER 11 A SURGE OF CONFIDENCE..................................102CHAPTER 12 IN DIVINE TIME.........................................111CHAPTER 13 DIVINE NETWORKING......................................119CHAPTER 14 I AM WOMAN DREAM.......................................124CHAPTER 15 EXCAVATING THE MOM MYSTERY.............................131CHAPTER 16 THE OTHER MOTHERS......................................142CHAPTER 17 THE BED AND THE BOARD ... AND MORE.....................146CHAPTER 18 NO BOOK OR SERMON......................................150CHAPTER 19 GO SEE WAYNE DYER......................................155CHAPTER 20 INVOKING THE PRESENCE..................................164CHAPTER 21 A LEAP OF FAITH........................................168CHAPTER 22 REMEMBERING THE CONNECTION.............................173CHAPTER 23 TRUSTING MYSELF........................................178CHAPTER 24 SITZ IM LEBEN..........................................182CHAPTER 25 MUSHROOM DREAM.........................................187CHAPTER 26 HEALER REVEALED........................................191CHAPTER 27 WHEN BEING PSYCHIC HURTS...............................195CHAPTER 28 MORE MAGIC IN MY SLEEP.................................202CHAPTER 29 FORGET ME NOT..........................................208CHAPTER 30 "AN IDEA WHOSE TIME HAS COME"..........................214CHAPTER 31 SELF-WORTH AND SELF-ESTEEM.............................220CHAPTER 32 COURAGEOUS WAKE........................................230CHAPTER 33 A SPIRITUAL SET-UP.....................................234ABOUT THE AUTHOR..................................................239

Chapter One

FIRST, A LITTLE BACKGROUND

At the same time America was at war with Vietnam, I was in a secret war-inside my house. The people who loved, fed, and protected me would morph into the people who hit, slapped, and whipped my body. Those early years were confusing. In one moment, I could get a kiss and a lullaby. Then, out of nowhere, a hurricane of anger could level me. My bedroom, a place of security and comfort, could transform into a dungeon where I was forgotten. I found myself frequently wondering, "Where is Mommy?" The physical and verbal aggression was no match for being ignored. Being left alone.

I was born in Portsmouth, Virginia in 1961. I was the second of four children. I had an older brother, Tony, and two younger sisters, Maria and Angela. We were born within a span of four years. Dad was a medical doctor and military officer. Mom was home with us.

I was a natural visionary and an explorer. I wasn't aware of those qualities until many years later. I was also the finder of great things-including but not limited to most of the pets in my family.

I was precocious. I was unusually coordinated, able to figure things out. I knew things before I was "supposed to" know. At 18-months-old, I would stand in grim defiance with my fists clenched by my sides-not crying-and glare at Dad, after he'd hit me. I didn't have the vocabulary to state it, but I sensed something was not right.

By the time I was three, Dad moved us to a Military base in Queens, New York. My siblings and I emulated our parents' model of problem solving: physical and verbal aggression. We pulled hair, pushed, punched, shouted, and blamed everyone other than ourselves for our misfortunes. We competed for scraps of attention and love. Sibling rivalry was exacerbated by my need to compensate for what I wasn't getting from my parents.

I figured out that it was in my best interest to be the favorite child. That role, I came to believe, could come in handy-maybe, help me avoid punishment. Maria and I were the greatest of rivals. We were practically twins; she was born before I was a year old. I stopped being the baby of the family, before I could walk. She was literally the next egg in my mother's ovary in line to be impregnated. How Maria and I fought for our rightful position in the family.

I had a hidden source of help-something invisible to my family and me. I used it as readily as I breathed. I didn't know what it was. It was just there. A guidance of sorts, an invisible knower, communicated to me as surreptitiously as cells divide. When I followed that guidance, I could break a rule and not get in trouble. Like the time I got my first pet. I was five. I wasn't supposed to leave the front yard, but something prodded me to do it.

I knew my parent's wrath could sting, but I kept going. I left the yard and walked to a sidewalk across the street. I looked over my shoulder. No grownups in sight, I kept following the guidance. I looked down, and to my astonishment, one of my wishes had come true. I'd wanted a little furry pet, and there it was. It was grayish with a pink tail. The fluffy creature was still. I knew I could catch it. No other kids were around. It was mine. It didn't bother me that the mouse was missing its head. It was soft, barely dead.

I was filled with joy as I hid my new treasure in my pinafore pocket. If I could keep it hidden, I could get past the parents and bring it to my room. No such luck. Dad cast a shadow over me. Where did he come from? How did he know where I was? I burst into tears. I bawled as he inquired about the contents of my pocket. I was more upset about losing my pet than about the spanking I was sure to receive. He didn't hit me at all. He threw away the headless mouse and brought me to a pet store. I got a new hamster.

That guidance was tricky. What an ingenious plan. Over that weekend, the hamster had babies-seven of them. That guidance led me to eight pets. We didn't know the hamster was pregnant when we'd bought it.

Just as we were delighting in the magnificence of creation, I watched the mother hamster pick up one of the newborns and bite its head off. She ate the whole baby. Then, she bit off the heads of four more. She swallowed them, too. I was horrified. I wanted to throw up. How could a mother mutilate and eat her babies? She must have been full, because she let the last two live. Poof! What magic: one dead headless mouse morphed into one live hamster, then eight hamsters and finally three hamsters. And no spanking.

By kindergarten, I figured out that love can embrace you like a warm summer breeze, and then it can turn around and bite your head off. As a child, I didn't know what abuse was. My vocabulary didn't include dysfunctional family, child neglect, or post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). I didn't understand what made my parents so angry. I didn't understand what made Mom disappear-sometimes for hours, sometimes longer.

Despite the chaos, I was the ultimate optimist. I wasn't aware of that...