What I Do & How I Came To Do It
“A healer's power stems not from any special ability, but from maintaining the courage and awareness to embody and express the universal healing power that every human being naturally possesses.”
― Eric Micha'el Leventhal
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The Eyeland Experience
Welcome to Eyeland Paws! My name is Tanya, your friendly, neighborhood quantum-healing facilitator. I'm absolutely thrilled your journey has brought our paths together, and I can't wait to get to know you, hear your story, and be a part of your transformation. If you're on this page, you're likely looking to learn a bit about what I do and a thing or two about me and my background.
The Eyeland Experience is founded on the principles of Nikola Tesla who famously said, “If you want to find the secrets of the universe, think in terms of energy, frequency and vibration.” That's exactly what we do here; we get back to the most basic of all basics, we return home to the very blueprint of all life on earth -- energy. We offer remote energy healing for an array of symptomatology. I work with the energy in, between, through, and around all the cells of your body, and you reap all the rewards from the comfort of your own routine. “Remote” means your healing sessions will be conducted from afar, hassle free, and in most cases, without the need for so much as an "appointment." That means no meet ups, no Skype calls, no interruptions at all; just go about your day as if it were any other day, and let me do the work in the background.
As for me, whether you're curious how I got into this line of work or just want to know a little bit about me in general, you've come to the right place. Though, full disclosure, it's not a "little" about me; it's a lot 😬. I'm an open book, and I opened right up. There is a short version, too. You can choose which one you'd like to read. On the other hand, if you could care less, have heard enough already, and just want to get started, you can do that, too!
You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backward. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever.
Like most people my age, my life's story is a long one, one that continues to unfold with each new day. I have spoken about my story on many occasions, and when talking about it over the years, I've noticed a few patterns. It seems people seeking my services almost always ask me a similar line of questioning: "How did you come to do this line of work?" "Have you always been able to do this?" "When did you first realize you could help heal people?" "Have you always done this as your career?"
You'll find answers to these questions here along with a whole lot more than you likely bargained for. I would say, "I'll do my best to keep it short," but anyone that knows me knows full well that's not gonna happen. To begin, I need to rewind things quite considerably in order to paint the picture of how I got here. You need to know where I began to have an idea of how I ended up at the forks in the road I encountered along the way. As Steve Jobs said to the Standford graduating class of 2005, "You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backward," and boy was he ever right! I never would have guessed I'd end up here, but at the same time, now that I’m looking backward, it makes perfect sense how it unfolded.
I began my life as a major overachiever. Not that there is anything innately wrong with that, but it can certainly be exhausting. My father and I had a playful expression: "Second place is the first loser," and I always strived for first place. It didn't matter what it was, I wanted to be the best. Whether academics, the Canadian National Equestrian Circuit, basketball, ballet, dance, gymnastics, diving, acting, modeling, or conquering my body's limitations in the gym -- I wanted to be the best at all of it.
I was fortunate because, in many respects, I excelled in almost everything I started. It was as if my brain was constantly searching to quench an insatiable thirst for "better." Whether I was done dominating the present challenge or working on perfecting it, or if I was done with it and looking for the next challenge, I was always living in the future. I didn't see it then, but as I would realize later in life, because I as always looking for the next challenge to overcome even while I was still working on the prior one, every time I reached the next challenge, there was a new next one staring me in the face. It wasn’t about the challenge anymore, or even the cycle. In hindsight, what was really going on was my need for validation. I kept chasing that feeling, and the only way to get it was to continue to excel, so continue I did.
It was then, nearing the pinnacle of my success in my younger years that I… well… met a boy. Unaware at the time, this "man" would turn out to be my future ex-husband, an abuser of epic proportion, a master-manipulator, a total sadist and narcissist, someone who put me through a barrage of unimaginable experiences no one should ever be subjected to, not to mention the ripple effects they had on me for the next two decades.
As is often the case in these circumstances, the introduction to my new hell was a gradual one. In the very beginning, it was subtle and always behind closed doors. At first, my family, who we lived with at the time, had no idea anything was amiss. Over the next two to five years, though, despite his best efforts at charismatic subterfuge, it became more public, more blatant, more aggressive, more creative, and it showed no signs of slowing down. This was my new normal, my transition from The Beginning to what would be 11 years of unthinkable, and until recently, unspeakable horrors.
Losing My Way
In hindsight, part of me feels like this was a message, an opportunity even. Whether you call that immutable, omnipotent, infallible, creative force that connects everyone with everything across all of creation, God, the fabric of the universe, the Divine Matrix, Source (my preferred), Source Energy , or just the Universe, it knew there was more to me than this cycle, more to life than winning, more to existence than doing, and part of me feels that it probably tried to show me that before I met him, and I not only didn't listen, I didn't even realize there was anything to listen to. If this was the first significantly unavoidable attempt at my attention, I clearly didn't heed this first warning. As Mark Twain said, "Denial ain't just a river in Egypt."
I continued with the way of life I knew. To the rest of the world, to onlookers, I was still that go-getter, that seemingly unstoppable force, a work horse. I was competing, winning, excelling and, at times, even dominating the competition. On the surface, I was a success story living other people's dream life. In reality, I was scared; confused; defeated; and, though it makes no sense, feeling disappointing, inadequate, and guilty, as if I'd done something to deserve this. Not to mention, why couldn't I figure it out, solve it, and overcome? What was wrong with me? If it was a message, divine intervention, a lesson of sorts, I clearly missed the point.
Esther Hicks of the Abraham Hicks publications, often says, "Don't worry if at first you don't get the message, it'll get louder," and louder it certainly got. Not only did the abuse continue to get worse, Source showed me in what I can only imagine was likely the only way I would listen. Similarly to the movie Molly's Game, it all ended in an Oscar worthy cinematic tragedy - my life came to a screeching halt. In all its wisdom, unbeknownst to me at the time, Source gave me an immutable challenge that I would have to listen to. One so significant, I couldn't ignore the painful truth that life wasn't the same anymore, something I never saw coming - it pinned me in my own body, burying me alive in my very own flesh and bone. At 21 years young, I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis, confined to a wheel chair, unable to tend to the most basic of life's needs. I was less mobile than a bobblehead on a dashboard on the Utah salt flats. And not just that, I became reliant on my abuser. I truly thought it was game over for me, but it turns out, albeit startling and slow to burgeon, this was my awakening.
In hindsight, part of me feels like this was a message, an opportunity even. Whether you call that immutable, omnipotent, infallible, creative force that connects everyone with everything across all of creation "God," "the Universe," "the Divine Matrix," "Source Energy," or just "Source (my preferred), it knew there was more to me than this cycle, more to life than winning, more to existence than doing, and part of me feels that it probably tried to show me that before I met him, and I not only didn't listen, I didn't even realize there was anything to listen to. If this was the first significantly unavoidable attempt at my attention, I clearly didn't heed this first warning. As Mark Twain said, "Denial ain't just a river in Egypt."
I continued with the way of life I knew. To the rest of the world, to onlookers, I was still that go-getter, that seemingly unstoppable force, a work horse. I was competing; winning; excelling; and, at times, even dominating the competition. On the surface, I was a success story living other people's dream life. In reality, I was scared; confused; defeated; and, though it makes no sense, feeling like a disappointment, inadequate, and guilty even, as if I'd done something to deserve this. Not to mention, why couldn't I figure it out, solve it, and overcome it? What was wrong with me? If this was a message, divine intervention, or a lesson of sorts, I clearly missed the point.
Esther Hicks of the Abraham Hicks publications, often says, and I paraphrase, "Don't worry if at first you don't get the message, it'll get louder," and louder it certainly got. Not only did the abuse continue to get worse, but in my complete and total disconnection from Source, I managed to raise the stakes considerably. Similar to the opening scene of the movie Molly's Game, everything I had worked for my entire life was snatched out from underneath me in an Oscar-worthy cinematic tragedy - an immutable challenge that I would have to listen to.
It wasn't just something I didn't see coming, it was so significant, I couldn't ignore the painful truth that life wasn't the same anymore. One day I woke up pinned in my own body, buried alive in my very own flesh and bone. At 21 years young, I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis. On a scale from 1 to Lamp Post, let's just say I could see for miles. Like a bobblehead in space, I couldn't move. I was confined to a wheelchair and unable to tend to the most basic of life's needs (yes, the bathroom kind). As if that alone wasn't bad enough, I was still married to a deeply demented sadist, and one I just become completely reliant on at that. I'm not one to quit, but I truly thought it was game over for me. As it turns out, albeit startling and slow to burgeon, this was the beginning of my awakening.
Fortunately, through modern science and allopathic medicine, I was able to get back to a life of motion fairly quickly. I was put on a heavy--hitter drug cocktail that suppressed my immune system COMPLETELY, and once my body was no longer attacking itself, I was back at it in a way that my rheumatologist called miraculous. At this point in my life, I had stopped all of my sports competitions and was focusing on academia, so when I say I was back at it, I don't mean I was competing against others in athletics just the same as I was before my diagnosis. My PC at home had missed the tell-tale symptoms for so long that the damage in my toe, knee, and neck was irreversible, or so science insisted anyway (more to come on that later).
This recovery opened the door for me in a way that the next 11 years of my life, while categorically unfathomable at home, were not all bad. There were some really great moments sprinkled throughout the span of those 11 years, and I have no doubt that my life looked like a Disney dream to a lot of onlookers. I went on beautiful, lavish vacations all over the world; was fortunate enough to have some incredible experiences, not the least of which was my celebrity-scale dream wedding in Italy (yes, to "him"); and through it all, I had my amazing, loving, supportive, selfless parents that would move the moon and stars to help me if they could. We're very close, and I'm so lucky to have them. I've been a very fortunate person, too, and I've never denied that. I'm simply stating that it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows just as much as it wasn't all a torturous hellscape.
It also doesn't mean that my relationship with my ex-husband had ANY rainbows in it whatsoever because it didn't. Any rainbows I had, including my wedding funded entirely by my parents, was external to the relationship itself. I remember seeing a billboard once that read, "Nice wedding, now invite me to the marriage," signed "God." Powerful and profound in its simplicity, it certainly highlights how the two are far from one and the same. If marriages looked anything like weddings, divorce attorneys would be in some real trouble.
I'm sure the question on most of your minds is why I married him all those years later (ten years after we met, not one of which was abuse free). Where do I begin? It was a hodgepodge of all kinds of things: naivety; fear; embarrassment; denial; battered woman syndrome (BWS) which progressed into learned helplessness, a mental state that laid waste to my self--esteem and self--worth; and, sadly, the list goes on. It started out as a simple and innocent naivety, though. I hoped one day he'd turn out like his father, a really good and kind man. In reality, he pursued his mother's legacy instead, and despite living it every day, I still couldn't fathom a person being this way to another human being ever, let alone forever. It had to change, right? He had to mature with age. I just had no frame of reference showing me just how ridiculous that notion was, so I stayed. I was a valedictorian, and I still couldn't figure that one. Wisdom and education seldom relate.
In reality, and as hindsight would surely reveal, I was out of my mind. Sure, I was young; naive; embarrassed; hopeful; trapped; insecure in my illness and ability to be alone (though, in reality, I never would have been alone because I had my parents); and most of all, ashamed, but I was also absolutely out of my mind. This was my introduction to failure, and it was huge in my mind, at least that's how I saw it. I failed my parents, I failed, myself, and I failed in marriage, and if anyone were to find out, I would also fail in a very public way. I think part of me felt that if I was right and it was just a matter of time until he matured and became like his father, and I could power through this like I'd powered through every other challenge in my life, I'd be able to save face; I wouldn't have to tell my parents, my friends, or the world, and it would be like it never happened. Instead, after the wedding in year ten, things just got worse. Like Janet Fitch said, “The phoenix must burn to emerge," right?
When It Rains, It Pours
As you can imagine, the state of my marriage was front and center in my day-to-day existence at this point, though, as bad as it was, it was far from the only issue I was facing. Even though I was able to overcome my immobility through an amalgamation of technology, drugs, and a hefty budget (my poor father), it was a double-edged sword. The same miracles of science that gave me my life back were also killing me through side effects (as is usually the case with science). The two most notable in the immediate short term were a completely suppressed immune system (if someone sneezed within 40 feet of me, I could be leveled for the next six weeks) and migraines that were biblical in severity that spanned days at a time.
Knowing what I know now about how the universe really works (about energy, frequency, vibration, Source, our quantum reality, the holographic theory, string theory, matter's ability to be both waves and particles simultaneously, quantum entanglement, and Nick Borstrom's, Paul Ratner's, and Seth Loyd’s theories that we are all living in a thought powered simulation), I unequivocally know that my mental and emotional anguish festering in my mind and nervous system was not only exponentially compounding my body's biological tantrum, it was likely the cause. Each challenge I faced further depleted my ability to face the next, and this cycle showed no signs of ending except in the fleeting hopes in my delusional mind. By this point, unbeknownst to me at the time, the emotional component of my situation had literally started to kill me, it was just pacing itself. Coupled with Big Pharma's potions, it was just a matter of time and not much time at that.
Like I said, after my wedding, things immediately escalated, even that very night. It was as if a feeling of ownership and entitlement accompanied his new title of "husband," not that it was completely absent prior, but it was even more prevalent, almost palpable. It continued to spiral out of control until I got up the courage to give him an ultimatum. I insisted that he get professional, psychological help or I was going to leave him. This was an enormous step for me, both in facing my fear of him and my fear of telling my parents and letting the whole world in on what had happened. This would make it that much more real, a milestone in my life, a historical fact, and I'd have to admit to myself that my attempt at marriage was a failure (at least in my mind). Looking back on it now, I know it sounds crazy, but despite my accolades, this was the hardest thing I'd ever done in my life.
Looking back, though, taking this step, standing up for myself, being willing to face my failures, holding this one-person intervention for myself opened a portal allowing the universe to do what it had been trying to do for me all along -- help! The constant, ever flowing, eternal, guiding, and nurturing love of Source had been "pinched off" to a slow drip for over a decade, but in true divine fashion, it never left me, it never abandoned me, and it waited patiently for this moment, for me to let it all the way in, for me to let ME all the way in. For clarity's sake, as I said in the Quantum Healing & How It Works page of this site, there is no such thing as separation, and my use of the phrase "let it in" here denotes we were at one point separated. This is not the case, but I was operating as if I was, forgetting entirely that I'm not just flesh and blood, that there is more to us all, and even that "us all" are all part of the same whole; there's no separation there either. If you're wondering, "what the bleep is this woman on about?" you might want to read the Quantum Healing & How It Works page after this. Anyway, as soon as I took that first step, the second step was already in the works, and that second step led to a pitter patter of hundreds more steps, and as tends to be the case when you let go, it unfolded in such a beautiful (though, definitely difficult) way, I never saw it coming.
It wasn't even a couple weeks later that my future husband, Kurt, the man I'm married to today, the man that helped break me from my captor's chains, approached me as I stepped out of my pink SUV in our Law School's parking lot. That's quite the story in its own right, but for now, this is the point in my story where the phoenix spreads her wings.
Nature Abhors A Vacuum
With my then classmate and future husband by my side, I was able to do something I had never been able to complete before, I not only left him like all the other times before, I stayed gone. I filed for divorce within a month, ended the relationship both literally and legally, but whether he was truly out of my life forever was anybody’s guess. There was no telling what he was going to do as a form of retaliation, which, quite frankly, terrified me.
What made all the difference was having Kurt there by my side. I wasn’t in this alone; I had help. I didn’t have to face that paralyzing fear of my ex all by myself, and should it come to it, I wouldn’t have to face him alone physically either. Little did I know at the time, we are never left to face anything "alone." If it isn't obvious, at this point in my life, I was still quite a few years away from my awakening. Heck, I didn't even know what an "awakening" even meant. It's hard for me to even picture that woman, but when I do, I feel for her; I really do.
I wish I could say that I immediately told my parents everything that had happened over the prior 11 years, but I couldn't even mouth the words to myself yet, let alone to my parents. I told them the truth; I just didn't tell them the whole truth. Regardless, it was a big weight off my shoulders. I had finally faced my “failure” in telling my parents my marriage was over. The news trickled back home and it wasn't long before my friends back home learned about the divorce and why it happened, at least the watered down version that I was able to muster, and just like that, my “prison doors” didn’t just open, they flung open. All the fear and anxiety I felt each and every day for the last 11 years had been sucked right out of my life in what felt like an instant. What I didn't anticipate was the resulting void left in its place and the insatiable itch it brought with it. I had been existing in a fear state for so long, I didn't know how to live without it. I couldn't transition from a constant state of fear to a Disney story overnight. It was just too drastic of a swing, so I continued what I knew - fear.
Even though he had moved out of our home and all the way back to Canada, my ex was predictably unpredictable; unstable; and a sadistic, violent lunatic with transportation, a passport, and motive. He could come find me whenever he wanted to, and shy of an alarm system and Kurt (who wasn't always around) there was nothing I could do about it. All those “what ifs” were rattling around in my head giving me plenty of reasons to be fearful, and that is exactly what I did. Despite my best efforts, I lived in a heightened state of uneasiness and anxiety for the next five years, the first two of which were textbook, military style, PTSD. Loud bangs made me jump; the site of his make, model, and color of vehicle made my heart-rate skyrocket; and when I was anywhere outside of the house alone, my eyes were scanning everywhere for any sight of him or his vehicle. Granted, the first two years were ten times worse than years three through five, but you can imagine the havoc this wreaked on my nervous system and just how much that level of stress didn't help my already fragile state of "health."
Square Peg, Round Hole
When I met my husband, he was a single father of two little girls who had ended his marriage only three years prior. Toward the end of his marriage, he had begun an awakening of his own and turned heavily to spiritual teachings and practices; quantum physics; self-help books; and not only alternative medicine, but alternative ways of thinking in every subject. He viewed life very differently to me, and it was that difference that helped me wake up (albeit, painfully slooooowly) to the reality that almost everything I thought I knew about the world was wrong.
I spent this next phase of my life dancing between the safe but unfamiliar world of Kurt's, and the comfort and familiarity of my fearful one. I mean, if I'm being honest, I hardly ever left mine. I craved order and predictability and did everything I could to force it into being (major control issues), even if it wasn’t in my best interest. I was a survivor for so long, and now there was nothing to survive, to overcome, to persevere, and I didn't know what to do with myself. Sure, my health was a tragic mess, and I had been dealing with that for seven years by the time I met Kurt, so I had that blankie to hold onto, to manage and control, but it wasn't the same. The fear, the arguments, the fight-or-flight state I had been in for so long couldn’t just turn off. I was addicted to that state of being, to the chemicals produced in my brain during those exchanges, and like an addict, I chased the next hit. I lived in a world of extremes, both my highs and lows were off the charts. I definitely had the highs, but I couldn't function without the lows, even if I had to make them myself.
That state of fear I remained in for years allowed for that, but it wasn’t enough. The drastic difference in Kurt's and my views on life allowed for plenty of friction, but even that wasn’t enough. The trauma I’d been exposed to for so long (even predating my ex) combined with both the pendulum--swing I just lived meeting Kurt and the irrational fear that filled the void my ex’s absence left behind had me in a state I can’t even describe. I mean, not only do I not like to reflect on it, it's something that I can't accurately reflect on because I'm in such a different place, I can't even think like that person, the woman I was. If I had to describe it, I'd say it was almost like a state of shell shock. Little did I know, much of what had happened had been repressed and started dripping back into my consciousness over the next several years. This further set my recovery back and caused even more issues with my physical health.
Here I was feeling like a new woman; I had been freed from my cage and was ready to tackle the world. I was finally living a life that I didn't even dare to dream of just a few months prior, but internally, there was a turmoil that would not let me catch my breath. In one hand, I was different now. I felt different. I was learning from Kurt and the many philosophers, scientists, and spiritual speakers he spoke of, and I was waking up to the truth about reality. But in the other hand something wasn't adding up. I had a broad intellectually-based understanding of what I had been studying, and much of it even resonated with me intuitively, but if they were right, then why is my health the way it is? Why have I got worse since meeting Kurt, not better? Was it deeper yet? What was going on? What do I DO with this information?
I felt like a square peg, but the world I had known to this point in my life was full of round holes. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing I was learning fit with most of what I was living, and “coincidence,” albeit serendipitous, was an easy explanation for the things that did fit like how I met Kurt right after I finally put my foot down with my ex. Even when I thought, "Is Kurt wrong? Is he nuts?" But no sooner did I ask the question than I was reminded of all the minds behind the information he was listening to, some of the greatest minds in their fields. I was an intellectual and respected research and science, so that couldn't be it, right? What's left? Am I crazy? This dance was exhausting!
Trapped In A Body
Not only was the mental gymnastics exhausting, but my physical existence was too. Not even a year after I had met Kurt, things had gotten so bad with my health that my parents insisted I go see the unparalleled cluster of world-renowned allopathic specialists at the cutting edge, technological powerhouse of a facility in Minnesota, the Mayo Clinic. We thought the most likely cause of this turn for the worse was the fact that I had Kurt’s young, elementary-aged children around me now, and I was severely immunocompromised. We weren’t 100% sure, but it was the only thing that really made sense. Regardless, I couldn’t continue living like this. Something had to change, so I went to the Mayo Clinic for four full days of extensive testing. I don't even know how many doctors and specialists I saw, but it felt like I saw a new face every hour. At the end of it, I got one misdiagnosis from an over-zealous, piss--poor communicator, and eight new vaccinations over a span of two days. Here I was immunocompromised, and they gave me eight vaccines in 48 hours. Needless to say, it was all downhill from there.
I spent the next five years trapped in a failing body, bobbing around a dynamic ocean of symptomatology bouncing off one catastrophic illness and colliding with the next. I was exhausted, confused, bewildered, distrusting, scared, defeated, and trying to make sense of it all. I would ignore the "what do I do?" topic entirely sometimes, which wasn’t hard to do with how difficult it was just getting through the day. I felt like I was drowning, and there was little progress during this painful phase of my life. If I took two steps forward, I took at least one back, and sometimes three or more. The stagnancy was frustrating and the whiplash from the highs (found a new possible solution others had luck with) and lows (never mind. Didn't work for me) was disorienting. I used to know things. I was valedictorian for God’s sake. I was a champion competitor, I was capable of anything, and even though I know my rheumatoid arthritis changed my physical prowess all those years prior, the woman I was still felt like the girl I used to be. I still looked at challenges with that kind of confidence, if not brazen hubris, yet this dance was somehow getting the better of me.
I felt like I had tried everything at this point, both traditionally and alternatively. I had seen naturopaths, Reiki practitioners, remote healers, light workers, massage therapists, and acupuncturists. There was even a guy in my area that was proficient in multiple different practices and techniques, one of which was his own unique expression of healing, kind of like how Bruce Lee created Jeet Kune Do. Some of it worked, some of it didn’t, but none of it seemed to last very long, and I had to continue going back regularly to experience any benefit at all. My body wasn’t healing, I was just temporarily dimming symptoms. At least holistically, I didn't add side effects of that treatment onto my already full plate, but it was a Band-Aid-approach, nonetheless.
For example, chronologically, from 2014 to 2019, I became pregnant with twins, though we weren't trying. The medication I was taking for my rheumatoid arthritis wouldn't allow me to sustain a pregnancy, so I was on birth control to prevent it. As it turned out, I wasn't just pregnant or even just pregnant with twins, I had one uteral pregnancy and one tubular pregnancy. Both resulted in miscarriages, and I needed surgery to address it. During the surgery, they not only discovered I had a torsioned ovary with a 5cm cyst on it and severe endometriosis involving numerous two-to-three-centimeter cysts free floating all throughout my stomach, but unbeknownst to me at the time, they also mistakenly nicked my uteran wall. The botched surgery coupled with the endometriosis was so bad it led to two consecutive years of bleeding, a myriad of failed attempts to address it, and an eventual hysterectomy. Trust me, that nightmare felt a whole lot longer than that sentence.
I then transitioned to paralyzing visceral pains from intestinal blockages that eventually resulted in an extremely painful lucid colonoscopy involving six biopsies. The anesthesiologist couldn’t knock me out despite him giving me all six doses of anesthesia. He told me they would have to reschedule the procedure if I wanted to attempt full sedation and not the "twilight" sedation they had on the books. Due to the already frail state of my body, the prep for the procedure had almost killed me, so there was no way I was going to do that again if I could avoid it. I made a split--second, drug--induced decision to just proceed awake. I can't even begin to describe the pain, vomiting, and psychological trauma that caused, not to mention the horrific aftermath over the days and weeks to come, and through all this, I had migraines my husband would later compare to a scene from Venom.
As if all that wasn't bad enough, this list doesn’t include my insomnia, rheumatoid arthritis, migraine triggers like TMJ and smell sensitivities, allergies (both perennial and food), hypoglycemia, fatigue/weakness, brain fog, low blood pressure, claustrophobia, PTSD, and understandable depression. You can say it, I was the personification of a dumpster fire. It's cool. You're not wrong! I had been muscle tested to the moon and back, taken over 100 different supplements (just my morning routine included 86 pills!), seen seemingly countless specialists, spent hundreds of thousands of dollars (my parents' money, not including what insurance paid), and I was still a complete and total mess. In fact, in many respects, I was actually getting worse. I had a slew of new symptoms I didn’t have before that, in their juvenescence, were undiagnosed. My parents, Kurt, and I were all getting worried. Despite all the time, effort, and money I was putting into “healing” myself, it was just one thing after another being thrown at me. These were not just little things either. This was life-threatening canon fire and nothing was working.
A Wake-Up Call For The Ages
You can’t exist in this space between worlds, between an old you and a new you, between awake and asleep, between reality and illusion for long. Perhaps more accurately, you can only exist. What you can't do is thrive or even truly live. It wasn’t until COVID that I got the nudge or, perhaps more accurately, the shove into the truth that I really needed. Regardless of how you feel about the highly controversial topic of COVID and regardless of your position on vaccines, lockdowns, and masks, COVID changed the world so quickly, so drastically, that no one saw this coming back in March of 2019. From two weeks to flatten the curve to mandatory vaccination to keep your job, the speed of the new-normal's evolution was staggering and unprecedented. Even the Nazis didn't change Germany this quickly.
To highlight the significance of the effect COVID had on me personally, I need to first back up a bit and paint you a picture of my perception pre-COVID, of what I considered my truths regarding reality and how those truths affected my day to day. Despite all the information Kurt had inundated me with, in short, I was still very much a believer of the world portrayed by the news. Yes, I knew politicians lie, and yes, I had heard of products like DDT, Round Up, asbestos, and lead paints, all of which had FDA approval for use right here in the United States despite the fact they turned out to be deadly. I think most people recognize the dangers of outsourcing thought and personal responsibility and realize relying on others to make our decisions for us is an unwise way to go about living. However, when it comes to the government, for many, this is an exception to the rule. While maybe not a blanket exception, people look to agencies like the FDA to approve something so they can feel better about it, and most don't stop to question why that is. Whether because of ignorance, negligence, recklessness, or malevolence, the fact remains, the government hardly has a great track record.
This same type of blind trust (even more so) is all too often awarded to doctors as well. After all, they took the Hippocratic Oath to do no harm, right? I knew all about medical malpractice, and I even knew it was the third largest killer in the United States, but that wasn't my doctors; my doctors knew what they were doing. I listened to my doctors. I believed that they believed in the oath they took, that their desire to help their patients was at the core of their being, that their desire to help me would persevere above all else. I believed the education they received in medical school was the most comprehensive available and despite all the failures I had personally lived at the hands of those same doctors, at that time, I believed they were the pathway to health, to a cure, to getting back to my old self. Needless to say, Kurt was beside himself. Bless his heart.
I was autoimmune at this point in my life. For those of you that aren’t familiar with the term, it means my immune system was essentially malfunctioning. Instead of defending my body against disease and infection, it was waging war on itself. Autoimmune disease can present in any number of varying ways: attacking healthy cells, tissues, and organs. These attacks can affect any part of the body, weakening bodily function and, if severe enough, can even be life-threatening. In my case, I developed rheumatoid arthritis, a long-term autoimmune disorder primarily affecting the joints. To address this, I needed to address the immune system. Like I said before, I was prescribed a drug cocktail that completely suppressed my immune system rendering me helpless to outside infection - and thus, the stage was set.
Needless to say, I was pretty much Howie Mandell neurotic when it came to germs, but in my case, for good reason (I don't believe he is autoimmune). My germaphobia governed much of our lives at home. Clothes worn outside the home needed to be changed quickly upon entering the home. I had Lysol and Purell on every counter in the house and a large dispenser was mounted by the doorway of the entrance from the garage to the house, so everyone could do their hands before even touching the door handle. I washed my hands 50 or more times per day, and I carried abrasive sanitizing wipes whenever I left the house to use every time I got back in the car. I told you, I was a believer and "science" was going to save me.
It was so bad that I even believed that anyone that didn’t get vaccinated that could get vaccinated was selfish. Said differently, I thought that if you wanted your own bodily autonomy, you were selfish. I know. I'm sorry 😞. I thought that my ineligibility to receive all the vaccines because of my health condition could lead to me falling victim to an unvaccinated carrier if our paths crossed in just the right way at just the wrong time. In my mind, if they had not been selfish and received their vaccine like a good boy or girl, then they wouldn’t be a carrier. And if they weren't a carrier when we crossed paths, I’d be safe. The news said that was selfish, my doctor said that was selfish, so yeah, I thought it was selfish, too. I mean, considering now that the entire definition of vaccine has changed since COVID to incorporate for the ability of the vaccinated to not only carry but spread the disease, under the new definition, it made absolutely no difference if someone was vaccinated or not.
I was also told by my doctors that everyone in my house needed to be vaccinated for the flu every year. My husband and his kids had never taken the flu vaccine and had no interest in doing so. As I said already, he was of a very different mindset. Like a true believer, I told Kurt what my doctors said, and while he thought it was useless, he also thought it was harmless, so they all got vaccinated every year for me. The bodily autonomy argument aside, considering what I know after getting into this line of work, I feel terrible about doing this, but live and learn we must.
I also used masks before masks were cool. I’m kidding, of course; masks were never cool. I thought I had to use them because the kids were sick so frequently, coughing and hacking all over the place, that I told Kurt that if they were sick, they had to put masks on when we were all together. This wasn’t a huge deal because, regrettably (and I emphasize that), they weren’t around me all that often. It seemed like at least one of them had some sort of illness going what felt like 90% of the time. It was pretty bad. I had psyched myself out so much, though, that it was to the point I was legitimately terrified of them. After the initial ten months of our relationship that nearly killed me, I just couldn't go back there. I think I'd rather have just died.
Like I alluded to, I regret this so much now, but I just had no idea at the time. I was so asleep, completely brainwashed, that I missed out on so much of their childhood. I guess you can add guilt as a symptom of mine, too, but like everything in my past, I had to make peace with that. I'm trying, but I still struggle with this.
Anyway, this was my life pre-COVID. Like I said, admittedly, I was a believer, but I was still the daughter of an attorney, I’m still a valedictorian, I still have a law degree, and I very much have a legal mind. I say this because when presented with facts and evidence, I can sift through it with the best of them and find the holes in the story. I can pinpoint the cracks and weaknesses that will never hold up in court, and I know a house of cards when I see one. That being said, until COVID, embarrassingly, I didn't put two and two together. Fortunately, COVID made a house of cards look like a steel pipe. I know this is a highly controversial topic, in no way do I mean to offend anyone, and I don’t plan to get into this more than necessary here, but for example, if the only sources of information we look to in the COVID narrative are the “official” ones like the Center for Disease Control (CDC); The World Health Organization (WHO); The National Institute of Health (NIH); and, of course, Dr. Anthony Fauci himself, I think everyone can agree that it looks like a bad lie told by a three year old who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. They have flip-flopped more than a fish out of water and directly contradicted themselves, not once, not twice, but countless times, and they’ve even done it in real time, in the same presentation, in the exact same paragraph, sentence, and breath. Need I remind you of this little gem from Dr. Ngozi Ezike, Director of the Illinois Department of Public Health:
"If you were in hospice and had already been given a few weeks to live, and then you also were found to have COVID, that would be counted as a COVID death. It means technically even if you died of a clear alternate cause, but you had COVID at the same time, it's still listed as a COVID death. So, everyone who's listed as a COVID death doesn't mean that that was the cause of the death, but they had COVID at the time of the death."
Hard to believe, isn’t it? How are we counting potentially gun shot victims as COVID deaths??! But we are. These are the faces of the American medical system, and their ineptitude was front and center 24 hours a day, seven days a week, on every screen in the country.
My realization of this was not instant, though. When I first heard about COVID, I completely succumbed to the fear. "A new deadly virus? Are you kidding me?! I can’t deal with this right now! How am I supposed to even exist if I’m already as bad as I am?" I thought. I was freaking out, and I turned to the trusted faces on my screens (television, computer, and phone) for answers. "Just how bad was it? How do I protect myself? Am I even safe at home if Kurt leaves the house to run errands? Would he bring something back with him and pass it on to me?" I obsessed. I was a mess.
It didn't help that I had seen the videos coming out of China of people just dropping dead in the street, entire apartment complexes having their entry and exit doors chained closed, and huge trucks driving down the street spraying some alleged anti-viral component in the air. It painted quite the dystopian picture. I remember thinking both "Thank God I don't live in China" and "OMG, this virus is THAT bad??!" On the one hand, this was America, so it wasn't likely we were going to get locked in our homes. But then the scared little sheep in me kicked in and I turned again to the trusted faces of the iconic medical institutions around the world for instruction. The more I watched, the more I could see they have absolutely no idea what they’re doing. They can’t even agree on what COVID is or does, let alone how to treat it. At first all this meant was I was in some serious trouble, but then it dawned on me, "if they are this clueless about this, what else are they this clueless about?
As time progressed, the blatant and flagrant fumbling of the medical establishment showed me just how little understanding they have when it comes to health. They weren’t just firing in the dark hoping they’d hit something, it was more like they were deliberately loading their guns with blanks to make it look like they were firing in the dark when, at best, they were doing nothing and at worst, they were suppressing the truth from the public. What the heck was going on??!? There was so much information coming out in that first month that it was hard to even process it all, but you didn't have to because one thing was abundantly clear, no one could agree on anything. In fact, Anthony Fauci couldn't even agree with Anthony Fauci. What was the point in listening to anything he or any of them had to say?
It took me about one month to realize this whole thing was somewhere between a big fat nothing burger and The Flu 2.0. That's not to say COVID isn't real, but like Rahm Emanuel said, "You never let a serious crisis go to waste," and from what I could see, our beloved government seemed to be doing exactly that. It looked more and more like just another display of the Hegelian Dialectic, something Kurt had explained to me several years prior. The Hegelian Dialectic isn’t anything I want to get into here, but my point to all this is that COVID caused me to wake up to my own power, my birthright as a human being, and it was only then that I could even start receiving Source. Besides, like Jiddu Krishnamurti said, “It is no measure of health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society.” While some claim it's taken out of context, taken on its own, I doubt it can be better said. I didn't want any part of what they had to offer anymore. I didn't want to be part of their society. Sure, if I need a blood transfusion or a leg reattached, do what you have to, but outside of emergencies where I don't have a choice, that trust was broken, and there was no getting it back.
Come This Way...
This ton-of-bricks moment had brought with it an insatiable thirst to know more. My “aha” moment had been met with a curiosity like nothing I had ever felt before. If they didn’t know about COVID, who’s to say they knew about any of my other treatments? Again, 2 + 2 = 4, right? If the minds at the forefront of western medicine were bumbling buffoons constantly contradicting themselves to the point where today’s news was yesterday’s conspiracy theory and today's conspiracy theory was tomorrow’s news, maybe I should stop listening to them altogether, or at least start applying some hefty scrutiny to their recommendations.
To be fair, the thought that I may have been misled (either deliberately or through error) and wasn't on the best path to healing wasn't exactly a brand-new concept to me. The Born Clinic in Grand Rapids, Michigan, had told me that I needed to get off my rheumatoid arthritis medication before the side effects started to cause irreversible damage, and that was Dr. Tammy Born Huizenga herself, a board-certified doctor. Even my rheumatologist told me that after a certain point, the impact the medication was having on my body would reduce my life expectancy. Like I said, this wasn’t a newsflash. This time, however, it was different. It had reached a level that struck me harder than it ever had before. It was no longer just a concept – a burgeoning idea that hadn’t fully blossomed and could still somewhat easily be ignored – it was now an epiphany, one that grabbed the wheel as the governing force in my medical-decision-making process.
It was at this time that I started a holistic recommendation from my mother-in-law. It was marketed as a cure-all, something that made me a little skeptical to be honest, however, it was certainly worth a shot. There were no long-term side effects, and as long as I controlled my dosage (all things in moderation, right?), I would be totally fine. Not only had my mother-in-law done a lot of research on it, but I had also, as did my husband. There was nothing we could find that gave us any concerns, both my mother-in-law and sister-in-law had taken it in the past and raved about it, so I decided to start taking it.
It wasn’t even a month later that I got off two of the three medications I was taking for rheumatoid arthritis, and I was even able to lower the dosage of the third one. My migraines improved, though they didn’t go away completely, and my energy levels went through the roof. Had I found some miracle elixir? I was intrigued to say the least. I continued for the next few months feeling better and better with each passing week. I wasn’t cured by any means, but considering where I had spent the last 15 years of my life, I was doing amazingly well in a very short period of time.
It wasn’t more than three months into this protocol when I was reminded of the law of diminishing returns. It got to a point where I didn’t seem to be getting any better; I had plateaued. I tried to increase the dosage (nothing unsafe), but the result was the same. What was I missing? That’s when my husband reminded me of something he had said to me years prior, “If you want to find the secrets of the universe, think in terms of energy, frequency, and vibration.” No, that is not a Kurt original, that’s Nikola Tesla. Regardless, he was right. It was time to put the elixirs of the physical world down and delve into the spiritual world, to go internally and communicate with my reality directly, to work with the fundamental building block of our universe: energy. Though, as always, I still fought it. I know, it's embarrassing now, but at the time, it was very much true.
This wasn’t exactly the first time I had taken a holistic approach to my health, but it was always secondary to the allopathic one. “Titles and tiaras,” as the saying goes. I was enamored by the accolades and accomplishments that society holds near and dear that were held by those in the medical field. I suppose that comes as no surprise considering my background was primarily that of a fierce competitor. Holistic doctors often had very minimal formal education, they often came without a beautifully framed degree hanging on the wall, or they went to some "no-name, online school." Said differently, I was an academic snob.
I wasn’t a snob for no reason, though. I wanted credentials because I didn’t want to waste my time yet again. I didn't want some snake-oil salesman to sell me some hopium just to find out it was Kool-Aid. That's reasonable, right? I wanted to know what made this person different from everyone who had come before them who had failed to heal me. I was both wary and weary. I was exhausted. The emotional rollercoaster of playing craps with my health, of gambling on the next new thing, had taken its toll on me, and I was to the point where I needed a damn good reason to try anymore. In these moments of despair, I had a history of turning to accolades. Needles to say, I realize now it was foolish, but that was who I was at the time.
I wasn't new to energy healing, though. I mean, even acupuncture (something I only tried once because my claustrophobia did not agree with it) is a type of energy healing. I had even been seeing an energy healer that my mother-in-law had recommended for 2 years pre--COVID (let’s call him John). John was a licensed chiropractor, but he didn’t really practice chiropractic medicine much, if at all. His primary focus was energy healing, and he muscle-tested me for all kinds of things. With virtually every physical symptom I had, he was able to identify an emotional component as its root cause, most of which led back to the trauma I had dealt with over the years with my ex-husband. For a while I saw remarkable results, and I stayed the course with him for about four years, but I got to a point where I plateaued in my progress with him, too.
I had also seen a naturopath a couple years before COVID for a bowel obstruction, but again, it was an afterthought. I first went to the ER twice where all kinds of tests and imaging were conducted, I took a bunch of medications they said would help, and I saw my primary that also couldn’t help me. It was only after all that allopathic failure that I resorted to a naturopath. He talked a good game, but once again, there was no improvement in anything he suggested. I then saw John for the same thing. He muscle tested me, gave me supplements, made some physical adjustments to my body, and ran vials on me (If you’re unfamiliar, click here), but while the result was fascinating as to what came up as the root cause, he was unable to relieve my symptoms, let alone cure the problem. That's when I scheduled the colonoscopy I spoke of earlier that I was awake during. It turns out the intense preparation for it almost solved the issue entirely on its own, and the colonoscopy itself finished the job. It didn’t reveal anything, but it did cure the symptom.
Despite still having a myriad of other issues, I have not been back to see the naturopath (no offense to naturopaths or anything), but before I had completely stopped seeing John, I started seeing another person Kurt recommended from his prior experience with her. Kurt had taken an energy healing class with a woman in our area about 15 years prior, almost a decade before we ever met. The class was teaching people to feel energy and to work with their own energy through several techniques including breathing. I’ll call this woman Amy. Per her website, Amy’s energy therapy sessions included what she called vibrational energy balancing, Reiki, Esoteric Healing, and an energetic treatment that was all her own. I could see similarities between John’s and Amy’s work, but there were definite differences. As I had plateaued with John, I thought Amy was as good a place as any to transition to next.
Little did I know, but this would be my first bad experience within the energy healing community. I don't just mean ineffective either. As with any healer, doctor, or shaman, whether allopathic, esoteric, or holistic, there is a human element innate to their work. When I do my work, it’s imperative I put my biases aside and remove myself from the equation as much as I’m able to. Depending on the situation, it can be harder than you might think, however, it is absolutely necessary in every healing session. Again, my role is as a facilitator in the healing, I’m not doing the actual healing itself. The body is healing itself through the love and cleansing power of Source energy, and my opinion is not relevant to this process, and thus, should remain out of frame.
For clarity’s sake, an opinion is different from intuition. Intuition is guidance from Source, while opinion is a construct of the ego. One is very helpful, and without it, I couldn’t do my job as a facilitator. The other can be dangerous and is generally (though, not always) derived from the egoic, human--centric side of the mind and is filled with bias. Unfortunately, this is why my time with Amy ended, but I learned a lot during the process, and with anything in life, if you look at it without judgment, there is always something you can take away from the experience; nothing is ever a waste of time.
From there I decided to rely solely on my intuition, not recommendations from anyone else. My gut, my intuition, when engaged, was incredibly accurate and a guiding force in my life. If I ignored it, like I did with my ex, I quickly found out why it was telling me to go a different way. Anyway, I hit the internet looking for any form of holistic healing, whether taking the form of remote energy healing or in person and physical in nature. I knew something would leap off the screen and reveal itself to me as the next step in my journey, and it did. I selected a handful of places that resonated with me, but I kept being drawn back to two, and that's how I knew this was the next leg in my journey.
It was as if I was being guided by an intelligence outside of me, one that just knew exactly what I needed, and it kept nudging me, coaching me, "Come this way. Come this way. Come this way." It was this "voice," this feeling that introduced me to three wonderful and amazing human beings: James, Kathy, and Kim (I changed their names for their privacy). Little did I know at the time, but these three would become my mentors, in one way or another. This new leg of my journey was not just about my own healing, but also incorporated my introduction to facilitating healings in others and, eventually, myself. At first, I hired Kathy to work on me and my dog, Loubie. Loubie and I have a connection like no other. Any change in my energy or regression in my health, and Loubie’s health would take a nosedive, too. He’s so in tune with my energy he’s like the canary in my mine, and while apropos, it’s an analogy I don’t enjoy – poor canary.
Our treatments went on for several months, during which time I had started to dip my toes in the arena of meditation, something I had never done before. Sitting in silence like that reminded me of my younger years when I used to "bubble" my animals. Don’t worry, you're not alone. I've never heard anyone else use that terminology before either. When I say, “bubble my animals," I mean I would visualize a healing champagne-colored light, like a bubble, surrounding my animals, calming them, and engulfing them with love. There’s more to it than that, but that’s the gist of it. This was something I was taught by a friend of my mother’s back when I was about ten years old, and I had used it quite frequently over the years.
For example, back in my equestrian days, we had one particular circuit that took place on what was rumored to be an old, native, burial-ground. Whatever the reason, everyone’s horses went bananas while on site, but because of this technique, mine were so calm in contrast it was almost eerie. Other riders reported me and my horses to officials on several occasions because they thought I must have been sedating them with an illegal substance. Each time, they were tested, but the results were always the same – substance free. No one could understand how I did it, but had I told them, it’s unlikely they would have believed me anyway.
Bubbling was unlike meditation, though, in that my mind was engaged during bubbling. Whereas, in meditation the mind should be clear of thought, so meditation was still new to me. When I got back into using this bubble technique on my dogs, my intuition started to engage, and I began following it during their sessions. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was full on seeing things. I could see tumors, blood clots, energy gridlocks, toxicity, and a whole bunch of things I can’t really explain. When I started working on my mom’s dogs, I discovered I could astral travel to where they were (in my parents' home) and sit with them, talk to them, and play with them. I could tell them what was wrong, what I was going to do about it and why, and the more I let go of “rules,” the more I discovered I could do.
It wasn't long after that when I was introduced to The Island, the one that would eventually inspire the name of my practice, Eyeland Paws (more on that in a second). It's kind of a crazy story, but I was working on one of my my senior dogs at the time, Romeo. He wasn't doing so well for a number of reasons, not the least of which was veterinary negligence, but the rough life he’d had living in the same home with me and ex-husband was definitely playing a role in his health. I was tapping into (connecting with his energy) my dog Romeo, who was asleep on my bed next to me at the time, to do some healing work on him when, suddenly, I was violently splashing in shallow water, specifically salt water. It was that real, I could even taste it. I was trying to catch my bearings, and the next thing I knew my hands and feet were in sand, and I was crawling up onto a beach. I was checking myself over and saw I was wearing a white dress I didn't recognize when I realized I wasn't alone. I caught some movement out the corner of my eye, and when I looked up, I could see there were exotic animals all over the island. Other than the obvious (wondering if I was starting to lose my mind), I was kind of mesmerized by this heavenly Narnia-like island I had seemingly stumbled upon. I couldn’t stop looking around like a seven-year-old with a VR headset on.
Not even 30 seconds went by when a wave of animals, mostly dogs, came running up to me. It was quite the sight to behold, but as I looked around, I started to focus on the individual animals, and I realized I was looking at every pet I or my parents ever had that was no longer with us. I continued to scan the crowd remembering all their furry little faces and calling out their names, when my stomach sank. “That’s Romeo!” I exclaimed. I started to panic. Had I just lost Romeo? I mean, if all the other dogs had since passed, what was Romeo doing here? I had just started healing sessions at the time and was still learning the ropes and assessing my ability. It was all still so fascinating and new, and I had not been able to have the impact on him I'd hoped to have just yet.
As I continued to look around, I also saw Alaska (my mom's dog), who I also knew was still alive. I started to think, "Is this where Romeo goes when he's sleeping? Is his body and spirit so weak that he's barely hanging on and sort of drifting between both sides of the ‘veil?’" as I call it. After all, I knew the last time I saw Romeo he was in a deep sleep in one of my bubbles (if you don't know what those are, I talk about them in my story here), so if he was ever going to be dancing that line, right now would be the time.
Once the fear subsided, it became my happy place and took on a life of its own. All the animals there had come alive in their own unique personalities, just as they were in the prime of their lives. Some of the more shy ones that we had were less shy, but for the most part, they were very much their unique selves. They all looked so happy. They kept darting up to me and wanting me to pet them or follow them or even chase them. I must have spent a couple hours there that first time. I couldn't believe what was happening, and I didn't want it to end. As the days, weeks, and months passed, I made sure I visited with Romeo there at least five times per week (not quite every day). Fortunately, by my third or fourth visit, my wash up on shore evolved from a violent shipwreck to a floating landing of sorts, like an angel's descent, and it remains one of my favorite places to go to this day. If it's not obvious yet, the name came from the fact I saw the island with my third eye, and all my pawed pets going back to my childhood were there - Hence Eyeland Paws.
Over the next six months, I spent so much time in mediation and healing that I was evenly split between both worlds, the inner and the outer. I was spending 12 hours a day healing and meditating, and my entire world was changing. I hadn’t felt this energetic since my RA diagnosis, and my headaches were subsiding. At that point, I thought it was due to Kathy working on me, but I'd later learn that all the time I spent healing and meditating was having a significant impact on my energy as well.
I was about three months into my time with Kathy when I got leveled by what I thought was the mother of all flus. It wasn’t until it started to subside some nine weeks later, that I learned (with Jameses help) that it wasn’t a sickness at all, but a shedding of sorts that had been triggered by all of my time healing and meditating. There was no virus, no bacteria, nothing. I was detoxing my old self, my past traumas, and my old belief patterns, shedding the old me and making way for the new me (though, even this “new me” was just another transitory phase before my next shedding would begin). The issue was that it happened so quickly that my body couldn’t handle the speed of the transformation (the next wave of this turns out to be equally grueling, albeit different).
In hindsight, it turned out to be a great thing, a fast tracking of sorts to the new me. It acted like a portal to a place I didn't even know I longed for. My life exploded into one of purpose, and I couldn't get enough of studying and practicing. I took some classes with Kim and continued in my diligent routine, and before I knew it, I was onto people. I started helping my family with issues they been dealing with for years, and the success was so incredible that they were spreading the word to their friends and so on. I really am a word-of-mouth business, and I'm so proud and flattered by that. It's so exciting to be doing this work. The fact that I can be for others what I had longed for myself for so long (a helping and healing hand, someone with answers, a possible yes in an ocean of nos) is a type of rewarding I can't even begin to describe.
Not Out Of The Woods Just Yet
Even though I was well into my journey healing others, I was not only almost a year away from my own recovery, but I also had no clue how to apply my new faculties to myself. As the weeks and months passed, I got exponentially faster, more effective, and was able to see in ways I still can’t believe are possible (I mean, I can, but… I can’t at the same time; it’s incredible) when I was conducting my healing sessions on others, but the fact remained, I still had no clue how to heal myself. In fact, I hadn't even tried at this point. Unsurprisingly, the primary reason for this turned out to be emotional, but it was, at least in part, due to the fact that what I did to establish a connection with someone else wasn’t applicable to me. That’s all it really took to quash an attempt; I didn’t know where to begin, so I just said, "forget it," I guess. I was also having so much fun helping others, I just put myself on the backburner.
Anyway, as things do when they’re left unchecked, my health progressively worsened until I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I was still way better than the seven-year run I’d just ended, but it was getting bad enough to where something had to be done. I still hadn’t learned how to work on myself at this time, so like most people, I sought outside help. Kurt just so happened to stumble upon a holistic clinic in our part of the country, so we took that as a sign that maybe this was the next step in my (though, really our) journey.
The thing that sold us on this place were the reviews people left regarding migraines specifically. My migraines were ramping back up, which was having a deleterious effect on my healing sessions with others, but that was not the only issue I had going on. I also wasn’t sleeping at night without copious amounts of sleeping meds (something I had been dealing with for fifteen or so years at this point). Lastly, but certainly not least, I had what I thought were intestinal parasites presenting as 20 to 50 bathroom runs a day (yeah 💩 🚽 those kind). The reason I thought it was parasites was twofold: 1) I was losing so much weight, my collar bone looked like a Sacramento skate park (Seriously: my whole body was looking like a Jenga tower moments before collapse – frail and pointy): and 2) four prior holistic practitioners (including 2 energy healers) in back--to--back succession over the last year had told me it was parasites. These were people that had been practicing anywhere from 20 to 40 years each. Collectively, they had almost 100 years of experience in the arena of holistic medicine. Who was I to challenge this diagnosis, right? I would later learn they were all wrong, and to this point, parasites were never an issue, hence none of the treatment protocols having any effect (more to come on that).
While my time at the clinic did help my migraines, they later came back full force. My time at this clinic would turn out to be the most eye-opening experience I had to date. I went there a total of two times spaced three weeks apart and, in short, solved nothing with my stomach. In summation, the effects were temporary and uncomprehensive; the information was either flat out wrong and/or self--contradictory; and the experience was equal parts burdensome, unprofessional, and costly.
The first time I was there, I was told I had parasites on day one (making this the fifth holistic medicine practitioner to tell me this now). That night at the hotel, I muscle tested myself to see if I really had parasites, but I kept getting “no” as an answer. Then, on day two, he changed his diagnosis to a bacterial infection based on… well... literally nothing. At first, he actually denied telling me parasites the day prior, but later mustered the humility to admit he misspoke. I was so excited that someone was finally agreeing with me that it wasn’t parasites that I didn’t even think to muscle test for a bacterial infection (a cyclical and persistent pattern in my life -- self--sabotaging). The drastic difference between how I approached my clients’ health versus how I approached my own knew no bounds. I would later come to learn that the underlying reason why I didn’t even attempt to heal myself; frequently overlooked muscle testing; and ignored my gut, intuition, and Source when it came to my own health was because I didn’t love myself. I felt unworthy of love, and I didn’t deserve to be healed. Like I’ve said all over this site, the underlying issue is almost always emotional. I say this because I know this firsthand from my own journey, and I see it every day with my clients.
Anyway, back to the clinic. They hoped the use of a machine they had would help with the “bacterial infection,” but their main offensive to tackle this was a protocol including douching, coffee enemas, and more tedious, invasive, and physically focused methods. What’s worse yet, he told me he had to put the plan together and get it to me in a couple weeks (it was that intensive, or so he said). Fast--forward through an elaborate web of excuses later, and I’m still waiting on it. 🤦♂️ The mind--bending tomfoolery (yeah, I said it 🙃) aside, when I got back from the clinic that first time, my migraines were much better (again, it would turn out to be temporary). My stomach issues, on the other hand, were still going stronger than ever.
The second time I went to the clinic was to continue the progress on my migraines, but I wanted to intensify the machine regimen on my stomach to see if that would help with my “bacterial infection.” We spent so much of the first trip on my head that I hoped if we amped up the work on my stomach it might have an effect. Anyway, when I got there, the same person that told me “Parasites! No… wait… bacterial infection!” just three weeks prior, was now back to diagnosing my bowel issues as parasites. What’s worse, he didn’t just change his mind or find he made an error in his diagnosis; no, nothing like that. Instead, he denied he ever told me it was a bacterial infection, and he was adamant about both. I was absolutely speechless.
Like last time, I muscle tested myself that night again. I was so irritated; it wasn’t to help me and my symptoms as much as it was to prove him wrong. This time, though, I actually tested positive for parasites. This was the first time that I had received a positive muscle-testing response to parasites. I mean, to be fair, I was new to muscle testing, so I hadn't checked with the prior four practitioners, but at this point, my muscle testing accuracy seemed to be around 95%. Anyway, for the first time, I agreed with the practitioner’s diagnosis. This was new territory for me, but at the same time, I was facing another parasite protocol!! Ugh!! I could feel my inner tantrum wake up.
I let him put me on a protocol to address the “parasites.” It was different than any I’d been on to date, so I thought, “Hey, it’s worth a shot.” My stomach was so bad at this point, I would have done a line of Ajax if I thought it would have helped. It was so out of control. In the end, I think the Ajax would have been less detrimental. The pills he put me on were so dehydrating, my migraines came raging back, I was going to the bathroom what felt like every twenty minutes, and I’m talking emergencies! I felt like a scene from a Chicago Fire finale was playing out in my guts. I had lost even more weight (something I didn’t even know was possible), and I was absolutely miserable. I even had RA flaring up in the more stubborn areas of my body (jaw, neck, the knuckles on my hands, and big toes). It was all I could do to keep up with my clients.
A couple months later, I had a dream, and a word came into my mind, one I had never heard before in my life, but it was so persistent, that I woke up and wrote it down. I had no clue if it was total gibberish or what, but I was going to check it out tomorrow. The word was “Artemisinin.” It turns out it was a parasite supplement. You have to be joking! Now I’m getting supplement recommendations in my dreams? That was a first, but I stopped taking the pills the clinic had put me on, and I switched to these. My numbers slowly started dropping, something that hadn’t happened on the protocol the clinic put me on. I continued doing this for a while, but while improving, it was far from gone.
I then came across a recommendation of ingredients to make what was described as a love spray. It was supposed to be like spraying yourself with self--love. Intuitively, it got my attention. I muscle tested the ingredients, which came back as a string of yeses, so I ordered everything to put it together. It didn't come with a recipe per se because there were no measurements listed for how to mix the ingredients, but I muscle tested for that (something I would have done anyway, even if it had come with a recipe) and put together a completely customized spray just for me. Coupled with the Artemisinin, my parasite numbers started dropping dramatically.
It was at this time that I took on a client that came to me with a diagnosis of Crohn’s disease and was displaying signs of sepsis. When working on him, it dawned on me: several months prior, a Gastroenterologist I made an appointment with to discuss my issue wanted to test me for Crohn’s because of my symptoms but couldn’t because I had been gluten free for ten months. She said I had to have been eating gluten for two months for her to be able to test for it. She told me that if I went through with a colonoscopy, she would be able to tell if I had Crohn’s, but I never went through with it. The experience I had the first time was so awful I didn’t want to, so when I found the clinic I just told you about, I canceled, and with that, the thought of Crohn’s fell by the wayside.
When I muscle tested myself for Crohn’s… wow! It was a major affirmative, and the numbers were off the charts. I had done so much research on it for my client that I knew all the questions to ask. After muscle testing, I not only discovered I was riddled with it, but it was actually a couple different conditions, both of which fell under the category of Inflammatory Bowel Disease (IBD). I had Crohn’s disease (aka IBD2), but I also had Ulcerative Colitis (aka IBD1). When I say, “I was riddled with it," I mean I had this stuff everywhere. My IBD2 was in my stomach, my small intestine, my large intestine, my rectum, and my anus. My IBD1, which, unlike IBD2, consisted of sores and ulcers, was not only in my small and large intestines, but also in my labia.
Now, I’m not a doctor (nor do I hold myself out to be), and while my knowledge of anatomy has exploded from both personal research and my internal view of the body when in session, I’m not formally educated on diseases like IBD. I took what information I had from my research of Crohn’s from my preparation for my sessions with my client and combined that with my research on Ulcerative Colitis and my muscle testing figures, and I was ready to get into my first self-healing session. I didn’t care how long it took; I was going to figure this out. This had to end now.
Long story short, just three sessions later, all my numbers (figures indicating the severity of each condition as determined by muscle testing) were zero. During my first session on myself, I focused on the parasites. Muscle testing showed those were at a figure of almost 55 million (though, for some perspective, I’ve seen issues hit the billions, especially emotional ones), and I got them down to a 0 in one session. To be fair, this was an hour--and--a--half session, but I got rid of them in one sitting, nonetheless, and they stayed gone. This was a very rough session for me and a great example of how a treatment session can result in unpleasant effects as the body purges the problem from itself.
During my session, I addressed the releasing of trapped emotions as much as there I administered parasite specific treatment, and the effects began before it was even over. I broke out in full-body sweats almost immediately, and I couldn’t regulate my body temperature for the rest of the day to save my life. I went to bed horribly uncomfortable, and the next day I woke up with a horrific migraine. I muscle tested to determine why this was, and just like I figured, it was from the emotional purge that was still occurring. In reality, the purge was just beginning.
Those RA problem areas I mentioned were on fire, but they had a history of flaring up in the wake of stressful situations, so this wasn’t that surprising. As soon as I had an opportunity, I took to my second session. I started with emotional release work on my neck, the back of my head, the back of my jaw where it meets the ear, my whole upper and lower jaw, and through my chin area. I repeated both sides of my face and up through my temples, all the while running to the toilet to violently vomit. Like I said, I hadn’t worked on myself before, so I didn’t know what to expect, but nothing like this had ever happened with a client before, and still hasn’t, but it was happening to me.
This purge of emotion got so bad that I finished the last 90 minutes of the 145-minute session on the floor in front of my toilet just so I didn’t have to run to vomit anymore. At the end of it, I was completely exhausted, so I took the next two days off and focused on clients. Not to get graphic here, but my stool instantly changed and significantly at that. I was still having diarrhea, but it was totally different. That’s when I made the connection with Crohn’s. My Crohn’s research led to my discovery of IBD. Testing revealed what organs IBD was affecting. That research led to my discovery of Ulcerative Colitis. Testing revealed the organs that were affected, and all those numbers were off the charts. IBD was almost 12 million, Crohn’s was 29 million, and ulcerative colitis was 33 million. Like I said, figures can reach the billions, but you really want them to be under 10. This isn’t the same 1--to--10 scale hospitals use with patients all the time, but millions and billions are nowhere you want to be on anything. To have multiple bowel issues all in the eight--digit range, it was no wonder I was living on my toilet.
I got all my numbers down to 0 during that second session. Like I said, it was a 145-minute session, not including research, muscle testing, and preparation time, but I got them all done to 0 in a single sitting. Unfortunately, I had an emotionally triggering phone call that night (two hours after the session) and as soon as I hung up, I could feel my stomach gurgle. I retested my numbers after the call, and the stress of the call brought my Crohn’s (though, only my Crohn’s) back up to a 44 (not 44 million: just 44).
It was too late for me to do another session, so I went to bed and got started on my third session the next morning before I got to clients. I got my numbers back down to a zero, and that was the end of it. Three sessions, and I got my bowels back. If I had purchased these as a bundle, based on time not sessions (keeping in mind a session is an hour), it would have cost me $900. I spent over $20,000 at that clinic I told you about, and that didn’t include travel, hotel, and food. Not to mention, they were just: one: of my attempts to resolve this: albeit: I went twice.
This was the start of my self-healing journey. I continued to do emotional release work on myself and addressed the physical symptoms as they came up here and there (one of which was celiac, another form of IBD), but I focused mostly on emotional from that point on. Before I knew it, the waters were calm, and I was acquainting myself with the new/old me again. Looks like, Stella got her groove back!
In brief (well, brief-ish) summation, I started with Celiac that went undiagnosed for over 9 years; Crohn’s that went undiagnosed for over 18 years; Ulcerative Colitis that went undiagnosed for almost 19 years; intestinal parasites that I was misdiagnosed with for over a year but eventually got; and a buffet of types of Arthritis including Rheumatoid Arthritis (diagnosed), Osteoarthritis (undiagnosed), Fibromyalgia (diagnosed), Gout (diagnosed), Juvenile Arthritis (diagnosed), Lupus (diagnosed), and Anserine Bursitis (diagnosed). With this many types of arthritis, I was curious how many more I had. I found this list of 169 different types of arthritis and tested myself for all of them. I came back testing positive for having 26 more types for a total of 32 kinds of arthritis that I would have had at some point in my life, but they were all now testing at 0.
Specifically, if you’re interested, I tested positive for achondroplasia, calcaneal bursitis (diagnosed as Bursitis), degenerative joint disease (diagnosed), erosive inflammatory osteoarthritis, foreign body synovitis, Freiberg's disease, fungal arthritis, giant cell arteritis, immune complex disease (diagnosed), impingement syndrome, Kawasaki disease, Kienbock's disease, Lofgren's syndrome, malignant synovioma, myofascial pain syndrome, pigmented villonodular synovitis, psoriatic arthritis, rheumatic fever (indirectly diagnosed), rotator cuff tendinitis, sacroiliitis, Saturnine gout, Septic arthritis, Shigella arthritis, Sweet's syndrome, Traumatic arthritis, Trochanteric bursitis (diagnosed as Bursitis), and arthritis of ulcerative colitis. That means 24 of them went undiagnosed.
For clarification’s sake, when I say, “went undiagnosed,” I mean no one else diagnosed them. I’m the only reason they were ever diagnosed; I eventually diagnosed them through muscle testing. All the allopathic, naturopathic, holistic, esoteric, and energy practitioners I had seen to date had missed them all. It’s possible Crohn’s would have been discovered in my second colonoscopy had I gone through with it, but they didn’t discover it during my first one (most likely because they were just looking for cancer), so it's not exactly a sure thing.
One of the many beautiful things about energy healing is you don’t need to know every condition you have to heal them all. I was just curious and decided to do some muscle testing for specifics post healing. I didn't need to, though. The reason for this is as the body begins to return to homeostasis, it starts healing everything as if taking a scorched-earth approach to disease within the body.
What I hope you take away from all this is that 1) whether you’re dealing with a misdiagnosis, know you have something but western medicine can’t seem to diagnose it, or know the diagnosis you were given can’t be all you have, you’re not alone; 2) you don’t need to know every condition you have to get your body to a place where it can purge it and heal; 3) your healing can happen a lot faster than you think; 4) just because someone says “there’s no cure,” does not make it so; and 5) you not only can get your health back, you deserve to.
Whatever you’re going through, there’s a good chance I can help you, but as I explained in the “Quantum Healing & How It Works” section of this site, as a human being, you innately have the ability to do this for yourself should you choose to learn it. Yes, you should feel empowered. You’re kind of a bad a$$ 😜. The comfort in knowing that I am all that I need is a type of empowering that I just can’t articulate, and I want this feeling for you, too. While I stand firmly in my resolve that you can do this for yourself, until your journey reaches that point, you have me in your corner, and I’m here to help in any way I can.
That's it for now though; that's my story. Congratulations! You made it through to the end! If you have a specific question for me, please don't hesitate to ask. I'll do my best to respond to you as quickly as possible. I aim to get back to people within 24 hours, but it can and has taken up to 72 hours in the past. Dealing with people's health, I really have to prioritize my current clients and their sessions and being mostly a one-woman operation that fields a lot of questions, it's a challenge. I try to address the ones that seem more time-sensitive first, sort of like how an Emergency Room would operate, but I always get to all of them. I'm very sorry for any inconvenience that this may cause you, and I thank you for your understanding. Thanks for hanging out with me to the end, and I really look forward to getting to know you, hearing your story, and being a part of your journey!
I would say, "it's nothing fancy," but there really is no place on earth I'd rather be than losing myself in the moment, in the now, in the comfort, familiarity, and calmness of my own home surrounded by the love of my four-legged, fur-babies immersed in the healing energies of crystals imbued with the love, wisdom, and power bestowed them directly from Source Energy herself. I couldn't feel any more blessed than to call my home my office.