I grew up in Madison WI by liberal hippie parents. My mother is Jewish and my Father is Catholic. But I wasn’t raised with religion on Sundays, a bat mitzah or any ability to tell you much about either Catholicism or Judaism. I tell people I was raised Hanukkah and Christmas. I knew all the holidays and fit in at a temple and a church.
Mostly I was raised on love sprinkled with angels, magic, and intuition. You see, my mom is believer.
She whispered words of hope and faith based on love. When something went wrong, I was comforted with her belief that everything happens for a reason and it will all work out the way it’s supposed to. She would notice the magic all around and we watched together as she would intention the light to turn green and it would…she would intention the best parking place and magically one would appear…the phone would ring, she would guess it was her mother and it was.
She used her intuition and she taught me to listen to my own. As with most things that we are raised with we don’t know always knows what we believe until we start noticing that we are believing what we were taught. My mom was the first person I called when I was living in LA and struggling with a party life of alcohol and drugs. She encouraged me to come home, take a break and then figure out what the next step was. So I came home. At 24 years old I packed my life back up in my car and drove home. I didn’t feel defeated. I felt scared. I was scared because I knew I was on the wrong track but I didn’t know how to get off. It was a really fun track and I was good at it. Everyone agreed. Crazy fun Sara was the party queen. I didn’t want to take that crown off yet. But there were too many close calls. It was too dangerous of a lifestyle and I was hearing a voice that was whispering in my ear to get out. I knew to listen to the voice and even though I didn’t know how…I knew something needed to change.
At home I focused on where I would move to next. I didn’t know how to talk about the dangerous lifestyle I was living. But my mom was watching. And even though I was a good actress, her intuition was strong and she was tuned in.
One horrific night I was out alone with a guy I had known in high school. We went to a party at a crowded bar. I had had one vodka tonic and my date brought me a second one. I was a heavy drinker so I was still working on a basic buzz. But as I finished the second drink I was having a hard time standing and I asked my date to walk me outside for some fresh air. I was drugged. He had dropped ruffies in my drink and the effects happened quickly. I remember holding on to his arm and wobbling out of the bar. After that he took me to his jeep where the back seats were down and raped me. I woke up in the back of his jeep freezing and disoriented. I got to my car, drove home and fell asleep in my bed.
The next morning I woke with no memory of the night before. I lay in bed talking on the phone with my friend, trying to put the pieces together of what had happened but wasn’t having any luck. My mom walked in my room and sat on the edge of my bed. I got off the phone.
She pet my hair and asked, “Sara, are you okay?”
“Of course I’m okay, just hung over. Why?”
“I had a horrible dream last night and when I woke up and you weren’t home I was worried. I couldn’t sleep until you got home safely.”
“What was your dream about?” I asked her.
“I dreamt that you were drugged, hurt and needed help. You were stuck in the back of someone’s van or a jeep. It was so vivid.”
Something triggered in me but I kept a calm face.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay and I’m glad you are home safe. Are you sure you are okay?” She looked carefully in my eyes.
“I’m fine.” I told her and I shooed her out of my room. I quickly got out of bed and took a hot shower. That’s when a couple of flashes of the night before came to me. Enough for me to realize exactly what had happened. I had been drugged and date raped.
My mom’s intuition, her dream, is what helped my memory trigger enough to know what I needed to know. I was numb from living the life I had been living. This was the final traumatic event that I needed to face my bottom. This horrific experience and my inability to cry even in the aftermath was what nudged me to take the next steps I needed to get on the right path.
When I told my mom I needed to leave Madison she helped me listen to my intuition. Her concern for me did not get in the way of her belief that my heart would lead me in the right direction. She encouraged me as I left the safety of my home three weeks later and moved to Mexico alone. She had faith that I was on a healing path and I hung on to her faith as I dove into my spiritual journey and faced the many heartaches of recovery. She believed in me consistently and reminded me that I was loved and cared for and everything would be okay. And it was.
I continued to listen to my intuition which led me to meet my future husband and a new, beautiful life spilled out before me. My inner whisper became my guide and my faith grew as my Mother hoped it would.
I don’t know how it was possible for her to have had that dream that night. And yet I do. She is my mother. We are connected. And our love is strong and magical.