I initially approached my friend Megan, who I’ve known since high school, for guidance. Having been involved in the metaphysical world for a decade, she has offered advice to me about the journey I am on, which at times has been overwhelming.
I started to find myself interested in a service she provided called Akashic Records readings. Think of your akashic records as an archive of all of your past lives. The human experiences your soul has had, who you were, what your lives have been like, and the lessons you did, and didn’t learn.
The idea of past lives is taboo to some, which is interesting considering that to me, it is just a grander scale to what most are taught to believe. We live many lives here to grow and learn as souls. To become closer to the most enlightened. A school for our souls. We are meant to learn how to love in the most purest form, to be creative and passionate, and also have a strong connection with our inner self.
I was itching to know more. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I was curious, so I signed up for a session.
“I need your full, current legal name to start so I can open your records.”
“Amanda Doris Costa. Keep the Doris part on the down low, because most people don’t know it.”
“The first thing I heard when you said that was ‘It’s a family name, you should be proud of it’. Is it a family name?”
“Yes. It was my Nan’s name, her mother’s name, and my paternal grandmother’s name.”
My Nan had passed less than a year prior. If anyone was giving me shit over it, it was her.
“First off, your guides have come through. They are telling me you need to breathe.”
Was I holding my breath? Yup, I was.
“I can see that they present themselves to you as a blue light. They want me to acknowledge that you have been putting in the work and building your practice. Even if things get difficult, they want you to continue with what you are doing, and not give up.”
From that point on, we jumped into it. There were some very surprising things I discovered. I will give you the highlights.
“I miscarried between my girls. I would like to know if the baby I lost was a boy.”
When I was 19, a hand reader told me I would have 2 girls and a boy. When I miscarried, shortly after, my Nan started having dreams about my Mom holding a crying baby boy. Part of me always thought he was ours.
“Well this is interesting. Metaphorically, yes, that baby would have been a boy if that pregnancy had gone to term. The thing is though, the soul of that baby, is the same soul as your younger daughter.”
“What do you mean?”
“That soul wanted to be your child. They decided to wait until you conceived again, and came through then. What I am seeing is that when you lost that pregnancy, it was because you were in a very bad mental state, and carrying that baby would have been detrimental to your health.”
I had miscarried 6 weeks before my Mom died of cancer. It was the worst time of my life. It was hard having a child you know a loved one is leaving behind. It was also hard having a child since her passing, but there is something particularly cruel about the thought of having been pregnant when she passed.
I have had this further validated. I was told that when we miscarry, or experience pregnancy loss at any stage, that soul sits in the mother’s heart until she conceives again. There was something so comforting to me about the idea that the loss I felt, was not really a loss, but a delay. I wondered how many women would feel peace from thinking of their situations that way.
The other surprising part of my reading, is something I am still coming to terms with. When I was absent during my meditations, I had asked my spirit guides where I was going. It was confirmed that I was visiting them, my guardian angel, and someone else in the spirit realm. I had asked if that someone else was my Mom, or my Nan, and the answer was no. I was perplexed.
I brought this up during my akashic reading.
“I am seeing a white entity. Masculine energy. Did you lose anyone significant during your teens?”
My mind immediately went to someone familial.
“Well my great grandfather passed when I was 12. I didn’t lose anyone else until my 20s.”
Megan waited through my pregnant pause. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.
“Mike.”
It came out almost like a whisper.
Mike, the troubled boy I’d befriended in grade 7. Briefly a boyfriend, before our relationship evolved into a very intense friendship. He was the reason my parents got me my own phone line. I simply couldn’t keep tying up the phone every night for hours while him and I spoke.
“I can see you guys were young but it was a more mature kind of relationship.”
“He was a kid with adult problems. He carried on to make others laugh. They were laughing at him, not with him. I saw through that, and I knew something was wrong.”
“That is who you are visiting.”
“Okay, but why?”
“Because he is your soulmate. You’ve been in each of each other’s lives to some capacity.”
The last time I saw Mike was in grade 9, at a house party. It was awkward. We hadn’t seen each other in months, and he was there with a guy who went to his high school, that clearly wasn’t liked. We stared from across the room, burning holes into each other. Eventually him and his friend got kicked out. I reached out to him the next day, feeling immature for not speaking to him. It was then he told me that his family was moving to New Hampshire. We promised to keep in touch, but we didn’t.
In grade 11, I got the news that he had taken his own life. It took the wind of me. I was consumed by guilt. I thought maybe if I had stayed in touch with him, I could have helped him. I wanted to attend his funeral, but my parents decided against it. I dreamed of him, in a way that felt like a visit. A dream with words spoken, that vanished when I awoke, my hand on my cheek where his had been. I wrote stories about him. He still crosses my mind near his birthday, and near the day he died.
“I am seeing that he wasn’t near you during the time of his passing because it would have been detrimental to your health. You were going through something that mental, and physically made you fragile at that time. I am seeing it was food related.”
“I was recovering from an eating disorder. My doctor had scared me into eating again because I kept getting strep throat that wasn’t going away. ‘If you don’t start eating, this could turn into strep A, which affects your heart, and you could die’.”
Again, I’ve had this info validated during a second reading. I was told that Mike and I have been everything from lovers, to mother and son, and father and daughter. It has changed my perspective on the term ‘soulmate’. I always thought of that as a romantic relationship, when it turns out to be all types of love.
I hope to delve into this a bit more. I also discovered my oldest daughter has been my child before, and that my husband and I have been married once, and were also friends in a past life.
It is all very fascinating. The connections we make, the depth of which we don’t fully understand. All of this is a journey towards our soul’s progression. The human experience. It has been a wildly eye opening time. One that I was very much not expecting, and one that I am still exploring, and processing.
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