"When I Stopped Directing Traffic, the Lights Turned Green": True Story/A Life Changing Spiritual, Metaphysical, Journey

By Sheila Cooperman

When I Stopped Directing Traffic, The Lights Turned Green is author Sheila M. Cooperman's true account of her developing metaphysical abilities, which is misdiagnosed as mental illness and the adversities she is forced to overcome.

As a result of her need to "Direct Traffic," Sheila finds herself in many unfavorable situations. After a harrowing situation involving a sociopath, she seeks safety by turning to practicing metaphysics. Due to all Sheila's haphazard processes, she is catapulted into elements of this world, she never knew truly existed. These incredulous events create an unforeseen spiritual overload spiraling her into psychosis. For the next eight weeks, anti-psychotics are involuntarily administered to her-that exacerbate her condition.

Throughout Sheila's journey, she experiences a multitude of enlightening, fascinating, and sometimes frightening events. She surrenders her control to God, and embraces that "Everything happens for a reason." Contrary to all medical odds, she reaches greater heights. Hers is a story of survival, strong spiritual conviction, and infinite resiliency and determination.

Today New York native Sheila M. Cooperman works as a licensed psychotherapist and hypnotherapist in South Florida. She is also a skilled psychometrist.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 19, 2005
• ISBN: 9780595790951

Sheila Cooperman

Today New York native Sheila M. Cooperman works as a licensed psychotherapist and hypnotherapist in South Florida. She is also a skilled psychometrist.

Book preview

"When I Stopped Directing Traffic,

The Lights Turned Green"

True Story/A Life Changing Spiritual,

Metaphysical, Journey

Sheila M.Cooperman LMHC,

Licensed Psychotherapist

iUniverse, Inc.

New York Lincoln Shanghai

"When I Stopped Directing Traffic,

The Lights Turned Green"

True Story/A Life Changing Spiritual, Metaphysical, Journey

Copyright © 2005 by Sheila Cooperman

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

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www.iuniverse.com

1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

ISBN-13: 978-0-595-34327-0 (pbk)

ISBN-13: 978-0-595-79095-1 (ebk)

ISBN-10: 0-595-34327-9 (pbk)

ISBN-10: 0-595-79095-X (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

My book is dedicated to fragile little birds that lose their way and fly back to heaven, and all the metaphysical people who should no longer be afraid to come out of the closet.

Contents

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Chapter 1 The New Dimension

Chapter 2 Getting To Know Me

Chapter 3 One Doesn’t Have To Be There, To See There

Chapter 4 Mr. Wonderful

Chapter 5 Out With The Old, In With The New

Chapter 6 Decisions, Decisions

Chapter 9 Who Needs Planes

Chapter 10 What Happened To Yesterday?

Chapter 11 No, Not Again

Chapter 12 Houdini, Move Over

Chapter 13 Time To Say Good-Bye

Chapter 14 There’s Only Room For One

Chapter 15 That Repulsive Feeling

Chapter 16 Graduation—What Comes Next?

Chapter 17 Taking The Risk

Chapter 18 Fragility Of Life

Chapter 19 Home, Sweet Home

Chapter 20 Prelude To Change

Chapter 21 Timing Is Everything

Chapter 22 Like The Spinning Yellow Door

After word

Another After word

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my parents for finally accepting my spiritual nature.

I would like to thank my cousin, Donna, for never questioning my sanity.

I would like to thank my friend, Pam, for always being so supportive.

I would like to thank my friend Brian, for staying by my side.

I would like to thank all the spiritual people I met during my journey.

I would like to thank all the spirits that assisted me and were always watching over.

I would like to thank all my readers: without you, my story would remain unknown.

Introduction

This book comes from deep down in my soul. I wrote it because mentally I survived. This is my personal, true account of events and the magnitude of metaphysics, spirituality, Divine intervention, and the powers behind it. I thought about all the influence I may have on people, and the nightmares I may prevent, and sharing this information seemed essential. No events or experiences have been fabricated or embellished to make things more exciting, sensationalistic, scary, or fascinating.

Although some of my experiences were definitely unpleasant, they shaped my life and restructured my thinking. I have lived events in my life that most do not understand and many don’t even want to believe exist. My spiritual beliefs would alienate me from some, opening myself to cruelty or mishandling from narrow-minded and ignorant people, or draw me even closer to others.

Looking back throughout the early years, there were multitudes of universal messages I chose to ignore. Honestly, many of my worst experiences were orchestrated by myself, and my need to control…It would be my spiritual growth and evolvement, which would ultimately direct me to accomplish what I have and become who I am today. It has brought me infinite strength, the realization, and acceptance that there is so much more to the human existence than I ever conceived. It is definitely true, What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.

First handed, I would be exposed to the multi-dimensional dynamics behind Spirituality and Metaphysics. I would experience the powers behind channeling, re-birthing, remote viewing, candle lighting, and more. I would become cognizant of synchronicity, and accept that the higher power scripted my destiny. I would embrace that peoples’ lives cross intentionally, entering and exiting at the right time, and some relationships will not last forever. I would understand that illness and struggle comes to those, who need to teach from it, learn from it, or advance from it, and that the universe is always several steps ahead. I would become confident that the universe will provide us the necessary answers, teach us valuable life lessons and never to question it. It is for us to acknowledge the universal guidance, listen, and follow the path or miss out on our next universal timed event moving us one step closer to our destiny.

When things go so terribly wrong…We are usually directing traffic and ignoring the universal guidance. I learned the hard way to go with the flow, and have experienced the universal grace and forgiveness. Some people have expressed, that I should leave these incidents in the past. I would agree—if I didn’t believe everything happens for a reason…After reading about my journey, I am pretty sure you will be more accepting, enlightened, and knowledgeable about Spirituality, Metaphysics and so much more. I can promise you this; you will never be the same.

Blessings,

Sheila M. Cooperman, LMHC, C.HT

Chapter 1

The New Dimension

Quickly I looked around before jumping into my car. While driving home, I thought about the sales contest, Joseph, and all that recently transpired. All of a sudden, my chest began pulsating, then my heart began beating rapidly; I was afraid I was having some kind of cardiac arrest. Within seconds, complete calmness came over me, my chest continued vibrating, but my heartbeat was slowing down.

Methodically the vibrations began transforming into words. Both listening to the words and driving safely proved impossible, so I pulled my car over to the side of the road and began copying everything down. The words were making perfect sense, yet I was again not thinking them. My fear was turning into total amazement; it was like listening to a taped recording. I realized another spirit was speaking through me, and this was no longer a one-time event. My life would never be the same ever again!

My name is Sheila M. Cooperman, and this is my life changing journey…First, a little background information. I was born in Brooklyn, New York in 1959. I am the middle child raised in a middle-class, family by parents who shared traditional conservative Jewish values. My father is a Certified Public Accountant, a workaholic, who rarely spent time with his family. My first memory is moving to Long Island at four years old, where I lived through my childhood and early adulthood.

Growing up I appeared to be another average female adolescent, but I always felt like an outsider. Aimlessly, I walked around in a self-imposed trance contemplating the concept of life, and its limitations, refusing to accept our existence had little order. In my heart, I knew information was amiss.

I began thinking about the innocent, poverty-stricken, starving children who lived in deplorable conditions. It became unpalatable accepting some people were arbitrarily born luckier than others; this was one of many questions that needed answering.

Very early, I found myself fascinated by psychics. It was not an obsession, just a source of wonderment and personal curiosity. Even though my parents continually expressed it was a waste of time and money, I felt exhilarated and intrigued that a person could predict your life.

After one year of community college, I applied to the University of Central Florida to study journalism. After refusing to venture into rundown, unsafe neighborhoods to complete a class survey project assigned by one of the main professors, I knew he would never give me a passing grade. Begrudgingly I changed my major.

This university was tremendous, sometimes days passed without even seeing a familiar face on campus. I felt like a tiny guppy swimming in a huge ocean, lost and lonely. It didn’t help that one afternoon my self-chosen roommate, stole all my possessions and then left school. Even though I spent hundreds of hours studying, my grades were still lousy. Soon, I began restricting food.

After weeks of starving myself just thinking about buying a container of orange juice made my brain hurt. However, the last straw came in the form of a university probation letter, indicating my Grade Point Average hit a new all time low of 1.6. It was definitely time to go home.

Unexpectedly, my parents arranged everything necessary for my transfer to a small upstate New York school. Now, I was living in Peyton Place. After feeling secure rooming with my cousin, Shannon, my food restricting stopped. Repeatedly, Shannon tried to interest me in her major, Psychology, but I was never receptive.

I wanted to be a dietitian. Unfortunately, Organic chemistry was mind-boggling and my professor’s words were defeating,

Women don’t belong in Science, I will fail you all. Looking back, he should have been reported. Since nothing else seemed to really interest me, for the next few years my major changed alphabetically: A for Accounting, B for Business, C for Communications, and E for Economics.

Somehow unbeknownst to me in May of 1982, I accrued enough school credits that the University was actually graduating me. Now, I possessed my Bachelors degree on paper, but I was still lost.

Shortly after college, I met Dustin. My first impression was eh, but my friends persuaded me to give him a chance. After six months into what deemed a very serious relationship, Dustin nonchalantly announced,

Sheila, I am moving to Florida. Without a second’s thought about my feelings, he packed his bags and left. I ate a lot of chocolate ice cream.

For weeks, cards were delivered from Florida to my home making it more difficult to move on. Three months later, standing all five feet, nine inches tall in my doorway, stood Dustin with a big smile and holding a bouquet of roses. The actual realization of his presence failed to immediately process through my cerebral matter.

Sheil, I’m back. I promise there will not be any more trips. Since I believed he was telling me the truth, and agreed to get back together. My parents expressed their concern about the quantity of time we spent together, but they had also witnessed my lingering despair when he was gone.

Unexpectedly, three months later Dustin’s parents opted to move to North Carolina—Dustin was going with them. Again, I was left with a broken heart, overwhelming anger, and feelings of insignificance, which was reinforced with every picturesque postcard delivered. I wanted to move forward! Two more months passed, Dustin was calling,

Sheil, would you please meet me at the Ace Diner at three? Apparently, North Carolina also presented few professional opportunities, and he wanted to rekindle our relationship. Out of utter loneliness, I allowed him back into my life this final time. BS. Before Spirituality

Recapturing our closeness was easy, accepting Dustin’s new found interest in exploring adult clubs was not. Out of caring for this individual and some personal curiosity, I could be persuaded to go once. Nothing could have prepared me for the type of club where the owner’s voice was piped in from his jail cell by a speaker and the people were all busy having open sex. If one desired to participate in an orgy with strangers, it was also available. If you just enjoyed dressing up in a strange, revealing, black leather garb, while a large Amazonian woman barely adorned in black leather and fitted with the highest stilettos known to mankind led you around by a sharp spiked metal collar and a chain leash, it, too, was your prerogative. The sexual options were unlimited. I glanced from afar, with no intention of participating. To my surprise, there was a great food buffet.

For other people this sexual bravado was enjoyable. For me, Plato’s Retreat was an unnecessary one-time experience. Dustin agreed, yet he tried several times to convince me to go again. I heard nothing. After several months, we announced our engagement to our friends and families. I don’t think my true reality penetrated my brain until I noticed the caterers price list on the kitchen table. Now all the wheels were in motion, and I was having second thoughts. Did I truly want to spend my life with this man?

All the vomiting—nothing stayed down; it would have been easier to throw the food directly into the toilet. So many mixed and confusing thoughts catapulted through my mind. I felt like a rat running around a maze, with no place to hide or exit. I couldn’t be positive, but I doubted all future brides experienced this type of gut wrenching symptoms.

After a few weeks, I called Dustin to come over and talk. He was glad. He, too, had a question of his own. When Dustin walked into my bedroom, he was carrying a magazine in a brown wrapper. I asked him, Can we postpone our wedding until next year? He asked me, Can you choose some couples from this Swingers magazine? At that very moment, I was experiencing complete heart-shattering and total relief. Relief, I found out before we said our vows. That afternoon, I said good-bye to Dustin and never looked back.

As a positive distraction from my emotions, I concentrated on finding a new job. When I was offered a marketing position at a local toy company, my gut told me not to accept, but I needed the money. On my first day, Mitchell, the Assistant Comptroller, walked over and whispered something sweet in my ear. He was thirty-three, tall, cute, and had beautiful blue-eyes—all very appealing. Our immediate physical attraction was undeniable. Within weeks, I wanted our friendship to advance to the next level, but Mitchell stated company policy frowned upon upper-management dating employees. Eventually, with some persistent prodding and flirting, he was willing to change his mind providing our relationship remained a secret. I was even willing to accept these terms.

Shortly, I discovered the administration were not the only people who should not find out we were dating. Mitchell indicated his long-term involvement with Serena was on shaky ground; however, he was experiencing difficulty ending it. I should have walked away. Determined to have things my way, I still somehow justified dating Mitchell. I was directing traffic!

Ours was a tumultuous relationship, with broken promises, endless frustration, and unlimited tears, yet I continued rationalizing his behavior. BS—Before Spirituality.. .Eventually we both left the toy company and accepted jobs in Manhattan. I was creative and thought advertising might be enjoyable; however, after too many rejections I decided to accept a position in customer service. Every day we rode back and forth to the city together. Continually, Mitchell pledged his undying love to me and swore his relationship with Serena was ending tomorrow. I believed him! Without any warning, Mitchell proposed—to her. It was incredulous! I was devastated! While he indicated that he was not in love, but just could not break up with her; my life came to a screeching halt, crashing down around me. I personally tried everything humanly possible to make Serena aware of my existence and interfere with their engagement. The eve before Mitchell’s wedding, he showed up uninvited at my door.

Sheila, I love you, but all the wedding plans are made. I can’t back out on my vows now. Once he left, my rage became overpowering; dishes were smashed up against every wall. To add insult to injury, I accidentally cut my hand with one of the sharp pieces; however, the physical pain was diminishable compared to my emotional bleeding wound. By noontime Saturday, Mitchell was a married man, and I was obliterated from tip to toe. From that day on, I planned to sit on the train alone!

Just one day after returning from his honeymoon, Mitchell was back declaring his love. My heartfelt pain and anger was so extreme, I moved to another city. Even though I was now physically living miles away, it seemed impossible mentally freeing him from my mind. Soon Mitchell began calling my office to vent about his disastrous marriage; I heard few words before hanging up. Every few weeks, he called again. I never expected to ever be having dinner with him. After six months of marriage, I heard Mitchell saying,

Sheila, you were right, I made a huge mistake. I am asking Serena for a divorce. Will you wait for me? I truly wished I were in love with someone new. There was no one, just time.

Months passed, while Mitchell repeatedly assured me that he was definitely asking Serena for a divorce. He used time as the perpetrator for his delayed marriage dissolution. First, the time was too close to Serena’s birthday, then Valentine’s Day, and even Groundhog Day became a substantial reason. This man’s emotional weakness should have been painstakingly evident, instead I conned myself to believe we should be together. So here, I stood involved with a married man—BS—before spirituality…

After several months, Serena finally detected another woman; she moved out and filed for divorce. Within a few months, Mitchell and I began to live together, and his slow, tedious, divorce process became the new catalyst for our unrest. My life was overflowing with frustration. Every day, I watched as my college education was being wasted; I didn’t want to return to school for an advanced degree, and I was unsure what to do about my relationship with Mitchell. I was so confused!.

Chapter 2

Getting To Know Me

On March 13, 1987, I received the disturbing news that my friend, Bruce, was diagnosed with terminal Cancer and only had a few months to live. This news made me think about my own mortality. I always remembered my mother’s encouraging words about death,

Sheila, when it’s your time to go, everything just ends. You stop breathing, they put you in a box and they bury you in the ground. The mere idea that, Pouf, you’re gone, fade to black terrified me. This and so many uncertainties of life prompted my cousin, Donna, and me to go to the psychic fair that afternoon.

We waited a very long time for our psychic readings, yet something kept us from leaving.

Finally, I was seated across from Zsa Zsa Andrea, a woman in her late thirties, who specialized in palm readings and tarot cards. Without prefacing one word, Andrea began telling me,

Sheila, you should never be afraid of death. It will be a beautiful peaceful experience. Only the physical body is dead and buried, your soul, mind, love, and memories live on. Sheila, we are on this physical plane to learn lessons, so we can advance to the next level. Zsa Zsa Andrea began predicting future events spanning over a ten-year period,

Sheila, you are a very analytical, practical person. All your gains will be through your own hard work, no shortcuts. During the next few years, you will hold down several jobs, but nothing will stick until it is right, your current long-term relationship will not turn to marriage. You are a late bloomer, who will eventually pass most people. Most importantly, by age thirty-five something of a creative nature, will have a huge effect on your life, and never question that you are divinely protected. I didn’t quite understand the relevance of all these things.

Before leaving Zsa Zsa Andrea handed me a taped-recording of our session and stated, Sheila, keep listening to the tape. Even though I was doubtful, I remembered her words. You have homework to do. It will come true, but it will take time. Periodically, I replayed this tape. Now 2002, it all makes perfect sense. Throughout the years, I held several different jobs for a short time. As for my hard work, relationships, and Divine Protection, Please keep reading…

For years, Mitchell’s mother abused me with snide remarks and spiteful behavior, yet he stood silent in my defense. My parents could not even fathom my level of masochism, when I chose to move into his two-family home and live under the same roof with his mother, the wicked witch of the North East. She thought nothing of making new keys after we changed the locks or entering our apartment and cooking the food from our freezer. She knew no boundaries and we no privacy.

I swear, her ear was pressed up to the air vents listening to our every word. As months passed, Mitchell’s mother perfected over-involvement into an art form. I wouldn’t be too surprised if she was planning to sleep between us after we married. I tried every way to get along with her. I even wanted to buy her an Electric broom for Christmas, so she could fly faster. At times, I found it impossible remaining civil, especially when she confided her intentions were to break us up slowly, strategically, and permanently. Daily, I yelled, compromised, ignored, rationalized, denied, and cried about her. Even our good times were, usually overshadowed by Mitchell’s mother’s, overbearing, intrusive, behaviors.

While I dealt with the brunt of the torment, Mitchell avoided the conflict or mounting stress by turning to alcohol and working late. Yet, in total denial, Mitchell and I still spoke about our forthcoming nuptials. I suffered silently, since my friends would only provide negative reinforcement, and my parents wanted me to date only Jewish men. Our current difficulties would only provide my parents with more ammunition.

After several more months of this constant upheaval, I was, really worn down. Walking away seemed impossible because I loved Mitchell. Moving away appeared to be our only chance to remain together. I explained,

We need to escape from her. Let’s move before our relationship is damaged beyond repair. His empathetic response,

Sheil, I would like to, but I can’t just pick up and leave. Wait a few more months. I will tie up some of the necessary details and we can go together.

I was patient, but by April of 1989, I endured enough and was done.

Mitchell, please move to Florida with me. The final nail in the coffin was my ignoring the popular vote and flying with Mitchell and his mother to his sister, Bianca’s wedding in Hawaii. Before the plane was airborne, the fighting began, and that was the positive portion of the trip. After the wedding reception, instead of allowing us to remain in Hawaii for a few days alone as scheduled, she changed her plane tickets and slept between us.

In beautiful, tropical, Maui Mitchell’s mother played out her final hand blatantly showing her anti-Semitism. After hearing these horrific words,

Hitler should have finished the job, and watching Mitchell not utter one word, I felt my soul violently ripped out from my chest. Finally, the big, red, brick slammed me square between the eyes. Our relationship was only on life-support, no longer beating freely.

I knew I needed to leave before I began to hate him. I truly hoped he understood the seriousness of our circumstances and would follow me to Florida. However,…he would always have a special place in my heart. Zsa Zsa Andrea was correct; my long-term relationship was not ending in matrimonial bliss.

Chapter 3

One Doesn’t Have To Be There,

To See There

In August of 1989, I packed my bags and relocated to Ft. Lauderdale. I cried during most of the flight. Thank God, my friend Brian was waiting when I stepped off the plane. The sky was bright blue; there were palm trees, and crisp warm air. Time to begin my new life!

Brian’s small beach apartment was my first introduction to the Florida palmetto bug, and within a couple of days, we moved into a new two-bedroom apartment. Soon I began looking for a job.

During my weekly call home, my mother was chatty, but my father was businesslike, succinct.

Sheila is your car operating well? Do you need any money? Have you found a job yet? Nothing more! Growing up, I remember my father always working. He seemed to know little about his children; he was a familiar stranger who helped give us life.

Within weeks, I secured a position as a sales consultant at a leading weight loss company, Slender You. I was routinely closing most of my sales, and within two months, I was promoted to assistant manager. Brandy was an eager management trainee, who possessed great management skills and lousy sales skills. Voluntarily, I took her under my wing, and as her sales percentage improved, we became closer friends. When Brandy asked why I left New York, I told her,

Brandy, I made the right choice, but I want to get a psychic reading. A moment later Brandy announced,

Sheil, I am psychic. If I hold someone’s jewelry, I can read about their past, present and future. I was fascinated. I couldn’t fathom why her mother wanted her skill to remain a secret. I confided,

Brandy, yours is a gift, not something to fear. You should explore and develop your skills. I have to admit, I was definitely a little jealous.

Three months later, Slender You, gained great notoriety and was held responsible for multiple cases of gallbladder disease. Sales began to decline and the corporation downsized. Once again, time to find a new job.

I found it disturbing that during our phone calls, Mitchell never mentioned one word about moving. He swore he was not dating anyone special, but I knew that would change soon.

While breaking from my sun tanning, I began looking for a new job. Once again, I realized my Bachelor’s Degree was worth dink, and it didn’t help that several job interviews were questionable sales positions in questionable companies. Finally, after many weeks, I interviewed for a telemarketing position at a well-known, communication company.

Selma Brookman, the telemarketing manager, was a brazen, older, heavyset, woman, yet I sensed real honesty and a kind heart under her gruff exterior. After learning of the position, and my self-disclosing my personal inexperience, Selma immediately focused on my similar New York accent, became more friendly and began discussing home.

Sheila, your work experience and articulation is impressive, however, I still have other prospective candidates to interview. Wanting to say something to leave a lasting impression, I commented,

Ms. Brookman, the only thing I can offer is doing my best. On my first day, I nervously walked into the office and felt so many eyes staring at me. Ted, one of the seasoned telemarketers, was assigned as my mentor and trainer. We instantly developed a good rapport, since Ted was originally from New York, Jewish, and had a daughter around thirty. His introducing me to the other employees definitely made me feel less of a leper. During the morning break, Max, another telemar-keter, introduced himself, and during the afternoon break, Joseph, yet another telemarketer, approached me.

Joseph was difficult to miss with his tall frame, dark hair, defined mustache, and jubilant, deep, voice. He wore suspenders and was overdressed in an Armani suit. One could definitely not overlook the glib air of confidence he pompously carried or his hearty laughter, which could probably be heard from five miles down the street.

My job definitely became easier with both men doting on me, and it helped my broken heart. Max even invited me for a date, but while we were eating dinner, I became uncomfortably aware of Max’s peculiar repetitive behavior of returning to the restroom and surmised he might be using drugs. I asked Max to take me home. He drove me to my apartment, but refused to leave.

Sheila can I sleep on your couch? I tried firmly to say no, yet being as cordial as possible. When Max became relentless about his inability to drive home. I wasn’t sure what to do, but since Brian was home, I