When You're Suddenly Anything but Mainstream

“But what are they gonna think?!” ← the phrase that (still) runs through my head about twenty times a day. It can even make my fingers shake a little.

So today I thought I’d talk about what it’s been like to go from a widely-respected, easily understood and highly-praised career field to dabbling in one that’s not so … mainstream.

Last week, I posted a call to my social media accounts looking for volunteers, but a different kind from what most people “following” me may associate “that Katie Wilkes!” with. These volunteers weren’t being asked to give their time to disaster responses, but rather, help me practice my intuitive, channeled communication skills. It was a natural next step I felt comfortable and confident with, and it made my insides all squirmy and hot to cast myself out there where criticism and attacks are about as common as Starbucks on street corners.

My decade+ as a humanitarian often brought me high levels of camaraderie. Sometimes it felt like I was part of a secret, coveted club. I loved my work for so, so long. The intimacy I got to build, glimpses into lives worlds away. Fulfillment of delivering tangible aid that was about as easy to understand as you can get: food, shelter, water, emotional support. People get that stuff. They write fat checks and sing praises and call you some sort of hero, “doing God’s work” for that stuff.

So when I show this different side of myself, this spiritual-ish, intuition-based, not-so-tangible- or easy to wrap your arms around piece, it can be daunting. I like fitting in. It feels good to fit in. And, I started to notice what it felt like to shrink myself into a box where it would be oh so convenient to remain, yet left my arms and legs begging for room to stretch. I started listening–and still do– to clues about when I truly feel alive, excited, giddy. When my heart bursts around animals. When I can use my words and language to convey meaning. When I can dive beneath the surface of the obvious. When I can help protect sacred things that don’t deserve to vanish. When I can be in good company and learn from others following their true path.

That path can look kind odd sometimes to others. For example, there are all sorts of "weird Katie things" I can list: that I don’t work a 9-5 job (and likely won’t ever), that I have supercharged senses and can’t stand loud noises, massive crowds and fluorescent lighting. That I don't watch much TV, own a home or have kids. That I’m happily single and love sharing a house without other humans. That the companion that has stolen my heart more than anyone (so far!) has come in the form of a dog.

Yet, I still felt nervous to put myself out there to a world of people who may know me heavily for one or two things.

I also fell quickly in lockstep with a whole new emerging community that has let me know loud and clear, they’re willing to show up too.

These past week, something deeper I hadn’t quite fully anticipated grabbed my attention as a result of taking the next step in this intuitive work. Humans–some of whom I had never met before– are telling me they’re walking away from our time together in sessions feeling closer and more connected to their animal. Some said they have finally found peace and closure after years of questions and feelings of guilt. They’re gaining new ways of looking at the world from their animal’s perspective, rather than a single familiar one.

That alone is enough to keep me reaching for more of the stuff that lights me up, no matter how different it is from the norm. Because let’s face it: It can be scary to follow a path that isn’t the most beaten one.

It reminds me of when that woman on the street donated her dog stroller to us when she saw my tired arms carrying Ferg one afternoon, his sixteen year old legs worn out. And how hesitant I was to use that thing for fear of what other people would think, consumed and a little angry about how easy other “mainstream” pups had it. Even though, we did need that help getting around. When I saw the joy it brought Ferg to explore the world in a new, thrilling way that made his senses come alive, I accepted: we gotta do what’s right for us. Even if it looks a little different. So, out went the idea of some old silly stroller, and in roared its nickname: the chariot.

He taught me: We’re inside no one else’s body but our own, so who else are we living for?

Okay, one last thought I hope brings this message home - and also because it makes me laugh and we need more of that right now.

I recently heard Tracee Ellis Ross say on a podcast how she often struggles with this thing about pleasing everyone, wanting to be everyone’s cup of tea. Even though she’s Diana Ross’s daughter, she’s still human. One day, Tracee’s friend chimed in and said something like (I paraphrase): you realize that if you were everyone’s cup of tea, you’d be the weakest ass tea ever. Like, you’d pretty much be water. And even then, there are some people who don’t even like WATER.

Isn’t it true, though? So, I’ve decided, I want to be the richest tea ever. I want to be earthy masala chai with a stream of creamy oat milk. And I want to be with others who will put that mug down feeling so full and satisfied knowing that every sip is worth it. Knowing, that for everything out there that’s not for me, something else absolutely is.

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