Mediumship & soul-to-soul readings
I sit with people who are missing someone. Sometimes what comes through is a message. Sometimes it is simply the feeling of being near them again.
What a sitting is like
You do not need to prepare, believe anything in particular, or tell me who you are hoping for. It is better if you don’t.
We start slowly. I’ll ask you to settle, and then I’ll tell you what I’m getting. Often it begins with a personality — the way someone carried themselves, what they found funny, how they filled a room. Memories come through too, ones spirit shows me rather than ones you have told me. And there is usually something concrete: a piece of evidence meant for you, so that you know exactly who you are sitting with.
Your only job is to say yes, no, or I don’t know.
That holds for the main part of the sitting only. Once it’s done we open things up — you can tell me everything you were holding back and fill in the detail around what came through, so you can validate it for yourself. You can also ask spirit questions at that point, while I still have the link.
Sittings run online or in person, and most people find they cry at least once and laugh at least twice. Afterwards you’ll get a recording, so you don’t have to hold onto everything at the time.
My journey
I spent a lifetime remembering who I already was.
It began properly when the father who raised me passed. He visited me in my dreams more than once, with a presence so real and unmistakable that it challenged everything I believed about life, death, and what continues beyond this world. That door, once opened, I could no longer ignore.
I don’t believe our wounds disqualify us. I believe they prepare us. Our stories are our greatest credentials, and mine has shown me that healing begins the moment we decide to listen.
From my earliest years, I was the quiet observer. I didn’t speak until I was two years old, not because I couldn’t, but because I was deeply attuned to the emotions and energy around me. Long before I understood words, I was reading people — feeling what wasn’t being said, absorbing the atmosphere of every room I entered. Looking back, I realize my intuition wasn’t something I developed later in life. It was something I was born with.
At thirteen, I learned I had been adopted. Overnight, everything I thought I knew about my identity shifted. It began a lifelong search — for belonging, for unconditional love, for who I truly was beneath the labels I’d been given.
Years later, the father who raised me passed away. His death became the catalyst for my spiritual awakening. He visited me in my dreams more than once, with a presence so real and unmistakable that it challenged everything I believed about life, death, and what continues beyond this world. Those experiences opened a door I could no longer ignore, and set me on a path of exploring spirituality, consciousness, and my own intuitive gifts.
As I kept healing, I began to recognize the patterns that had quietly shaped my life. I saw how I had unconsciously recreated familiar emotional dynamics from my childhood in my first marriage — repeating lessons I hadn’t yet learned. That awareness became one of the greatest gifts of my healing journey, because it allowed me to stop living from old wounds and start choosing from self-awareness instead.
My current marriage moved through its own painful season. Rather than letting it define us, we let it become an invitation to grow. Through forgiveness, honest conversation, and deep inner work, we rebuilt our relationship on a foundation of truth, vulnerability, and mutual respect. It’s stronger today not because we avoided hardship, but because of what we were willing to face together.
But the greatest transformation wasn’t in my relationships with others — it was in my relationship with myself. I released abandonment wounds I’d carried for decades. I stopped measuring my worth by other people’s approval. I let go of believing I wasn’t smart enough, capable enough. I found my own voice after years of letting fear, self-doubt, and other people’s control shape my decisions. For the first time in my life, I truly learned to love the woman in the mirror.
My spiritual awakening was never a single moment — it was a lifetime of remembering. Through grief, healing, meditation, study, meaningful friendships, and experiences that expanded my understanding of consciousness, I learned to trust the intuitive voice that had been speaking to me since childhood.
Today, I don’t believe our wounds disqualify us. I believe they prepare us. My mediumship isn’t built on perfection or extraordinary claims — it’s built on a life fully lived: loss, forgiveness, resilience, curiosity, and the courage to keep choosing love over fear. Those experiences taught me that our deepest pain can become the doorway to our greatest purpose.
I know this work has led some people to judge me — some have called what I do demonic, often out of fears rooted in Christianity and religious beliefs handed down to them generationally. I understand where that judgment comes from, and I don’t carry anger about it. What I know, without doubt, is that I am a firm believer in God and in Jesus. I was a faithful church-goer for years and raised my five children in a non-denominational church — a faith they still hold to this day. My gift doesn’t stand apart from my faith. It stands inside it — one more way I’ve come to know that we are never separate from God, and that connecting to Spirit is simply another way of remembering who we truly are in Him.
It is now my privilege to help others connect with loved ones in Spirit, trust their own intuition, and remember that they are never truly alone. I believe our stories are our greatest credentials — and my own journey has shown me that healing begins the moment we decide to listen. Not only to Spirit, but to the quiet wisdom that has always lived within us.
With love,
Tigger
Choosing a sitting
Every sitting can go in one of three directions. You tell me which when you book, and we can always change course once we’re in it.
For connecting with someone who has transitioned. I’ll pass on what comes through as I receive it, without interpreting it for you. Try to leave yourself somewhere soft to land afterwards. People are often quieter for a few hours than they expected to be.
About your own life rather than someone else’s. People come to this one wanting confirmation about something they already half-know, or guidance on a decision that hasn’t settled yet. I sometimes work with cards or a pendulum here, where they help give shape to what we are looking at.
Both, in one sitting. We begin with whoever comes through, and use the time that’s left for you and your own questions. Most people who aren’t sure which they want choose this.
The full sitting. Time for spirit to build, and time at the end for you to fill in what you were holding back and ask your own questions. If this is your first reading, choose this one.
Focused and quicker. Best if you have sat with me before, or you are coming with one particular question rather than an open evening.
Zoom gatherings
Some of the best evenings happen when everyone is comfortable — in their own front rooms, among people they love, with no drive home afterwards and no room full of strangers.
You invite your friends, I read for the room, and everyone joins from wherever they are. Guests register and pay individually, so there’s no collecting money from anyone. Gatherings are recorded, and everyone who attends keeps the replay afterwards. Guests confirm they’re happy with that when they register.
Unhurried, with time set aside for everyone. Most guests are read, though that always depends on who comes through.
Shorter readings and a brisker rhythm. Most guests are read, though not always all of them.
A larger room, where I read as spirit draws me. Fewer guests are read than in the smaller formats, so do mention that when you invite people.
A gathering is first of all a night with your friends — the fun of it, the intrigue, the part afterwards where everybody talks over each other. Readings are part of that evening rather than the whole of it.
I read as spirit draws me rather than down a guest list, so I can’t promise a reading to any particular person on any particular night, even in the smallest gatherings. In the larger ones there simply isn’t time for everyone. Come for the evening itself, and take whatever arrives for you as a bonus.
If what you really want is an hour of your own, book a private sitting. That is a different thing, and a better one for that.
Something happens in a room watching a reading that does not happen in a private sitting.
When a piece of evidence lands — something small and particular that nobody else could have known — you feel it go around the room. The person being read knows. Everyone watching knows too.
You do not have to be the one read to be changed by it. Watching evidence arrive for somebody else is very often the moment a person stops wondering and simply knows: the ones we love are not gone. They are still themselves, still near, only no longer in a body. Most guests leave carrying that, whether or not their own name came up.
Prices are per guest, and each person pays for their own seat — so there is nothing for you to collect from anybody. As host, you receive a private sitting with me afterwards, as a thank you for filling the room.
Zoom Gatherings are booked through my profile on The Bridge, which looks after registration, payment, Zoom links and reminders for every guest.
The Bridge opens in September. Until then, email me and we’ll arrange your evening directly.
Email me about a gatheringBooking
Payment is taken when you book, so the time is held properly. If you need to move it, there’s a link in your confirmation email — up to 48 hours before is fine.
Before you book
It happens, and I will tell you plainly if it does rather than filling the hour. If we are ten minutes in and there is nothing, we stop and I refund you in full. I would rather do that than give you something invented.
Please don’t. Not because it would break anything, but because you will trust the reading far more if the details arrive without me having been handed them.
Yes, if you would like to. A ring, a watch, something they wore or used often. Keep it in your pocket or your hand and don’t tell me whose it is — I’ll ask for it if I want it. Sometimes an object opens the connection and sometimes it doesn’t, so please don’t put all of your hope in it. Photographs are welcome too; just keep them turned over until I ask. And there is a quieter reason to bring something: it gives you something of theirs to hold, which settles more people than they expect.
No. I don’t predict futures, describe how someone transitioned, or give medical, legal, or financial guidance. If something health-related surfaces, I’ll say it gently and tell you to see a doctor. That’s a boundary I hold firmly.
Whatever you decide to. I’ll pass on what I’m given as clearly and as plainly as I can, but I won’t interpret it for you or tell you what it ought to mean for your life. Sometimes a message reads like guidance, and sometimes it is — but you are the one who knows your own circumstances, and what you act on is yours to weigh. Use your own judgement. If something arrives touching on your health, your money, or a legal matter, treat it as something to think about rather than something to follow, and take it to a doctor, an accountant, or an attorney.
Sometimes. There is no rule, but if it is very raw, a reading can land harder than people expect. If you’re unsure, email me before booking and I’ll be straight with you about whether to wait.
Both work equally well — distance genuinely makes no difference to a reading. Online sittings are on video, and you’ll get the link in your confirmation.
It happens, and it isn’t a reflection on you or on the person you were hoping for. In a larger gathering there simply isn’t time for everyone, and in any gathering spirit may not come for a particular sitter that night. I won’t manufacture something to even things out.
A seat buys the gathering rather than a guaranteed reading, so I don’t refund an unread seat — which is exactly why I say this plainly before you book rather than after. If a reading of your own is what you want, a private sitting is the right thing, and there I do refund in full if nothing comes through.
This one is about gatherings only. A private sitting is recorded for you and nobody else ever receives it, so there is nothing to opt out of there.
At a gathering, tell me before we begin and I’ll pause the recording for your reading. You don’t have to give a reason, and I won’t say why I’m pausing.
Please don’t rely on turning your camera off — that hides your face, but your reading is still captured, and it’s usually the reading rather than the face that people want kept private. A word beforehand is the thing that works.
Move or cancel it yourself from the link in your confirmation email, any time up to 48 hours before. After that I can’t refund, because the time is already set aside.