Throat Chakra Girl

I used to believe in coincidences, but I don’t anymore. That doesn’t mean that I always recognize the signs right away.

I mentioned earlier in this blog that during a pendulum session with my spirit guides, I received an acknowledgment that I had another autoimmune disease besides hypothyroidism.

Upon doing research, and dropping into another pendulum session, it was confirmed that the suspected autoimmune disease was a connective tissue disorder called Sjogrens.

I met with my doctor in the fall to pursue a diagnosis. All of the bloodwork came back clear. It was disheartening. I didn’t want to have the condition, but I wanted to trust the legitimacy of my guides. I was questioning whether or not I was even communicating with them at all.

My intuition told me to take a step back. My friend Megan recommended the same thing. I was becoming reliant on my pendulum, and my guides, for predictive work. Predictive work that was mostly rooted in fear.

I put my pendulum aside, and haven’t returned to it yet. Instead, I spent time deepening my trust in myself and my intuition.

When my test results came back negative, my doctor told me she was still going to refer me to a rheumatologist, if I wanted. I was surprised. She had initially told me she wouldn’t do that without positive testing.

My appointment was scheduled during my busy season, and I moved it around a few times because I wasn’t making time for it. I figured it would go nowhere, and I was incredibly busy. That kind of deep exhausted that you can feel in your bones.

When I called and left a message to reschedule, they ended up sending back my referral when they couldn’t reach me right away to rebook. My physician reached out about it, and while I would have told her to just forget about it, the referral had already been resent.

When the appointment was a few days away I decided it cancel. Outright cancel, no rescheduling. I was tired of my days off being filled with specialists and tests, and I really felt this particular appointment was pointless.

I looked up the number to call and realized that it was less than 2 business days before the appointment, and I would be charged $75 if I canceled. So I sucked it up and decided I would go, and then be done with it.

The appointment was today, and I made the 30 minute drive, somewhat begrudgingly.

“We are going to start the appointment by acknowledging there is a microphone in the room for AI scribe. It doesn’t record your voice and store it, it just provides a record of the appointment. Are you okay with that?”

Man, AI really is everywhere nowadays, isn’t it?

“Sure, that’s fine.” I hate work notes just as much as the next guy.

We discussed my symptoms:

Dry eyes, chronic eye infections, blocked salivary gland, joint pain, chronic dry skin and fissures on right fingertips, canker sores, dry mouth, and the connection to hypothyroidism.

“Amanda, I think we have something here. Some people come in with some possible signs, and some people come in with probable signs. I am going to send you to an eye specialist, and for some extensive blood work. This condition is rare. We are still learning about it, and actively doing clinical trials. It is a good thing you came to investigate this, because it has been found to be linked to lymphoma. It is better to know if you have it.”

I sat in my car for a bit thinking about what he said. I almost canceled this appointment. I had been nudged in this direction and I almost didn’t see it through because I thought it was a waste of time. Everything that has happened led up to this. The events played out like they were meant to. It was a clarifying moment. A reminder of what I had now come to believe—there are no coincidences. The only question is, what would I learn from this?

I had done a tarot reading a few days before the appointment about my health. The 6 cards I pulled asked that I focus on facts as clarity, instead of fear, and overthinking. I was being asked to be patient, and to allow my perspective shift. Lastly, the lesson to learn was how to respond to uncertainty. To not resort to patterns of fear, anxiety, and desire to control the outcome. To focus on reality over anticipation.

The cards can give you guidance, but sometimes our brains are our own worst enemy. Every day I wake up and just focus on taking a step forward, looking for signs along the way. They are always there if you pay attention.

I sort of stumbled into January. My busy season was over, and I was having a hard time adjusting to having to head back to work after such a short break. Each busy season working a physical job, just chips away at you.

Over the holidays, one of my husband’s relatives had passed away. He had been a fire captain, who was diagnosed with thyroid cancer while still on the job. The circumstances meant it was deemed occupational. It also meant he was considered to have died in the line of duty.

While I was getting ready to attend, I found myself contemplating the oddness of it. The feeling in my gut of how strange it was to be attending a funeral for someone who died from the type of cancer you might have. The irony. The solemnness of it all. My last conversation with his wife had been comparing oncologists.

I mentioned it to my husband as we drove over there. It triggered a memory of my Mother. Just over a year before she passed from breast cancer, my grandpa, my dad’s father, passed away. She had taken my Grandma out to help her find an acceptable urn for his ashes, and she said something to me about it.

“It’s strange to think that I am helping someone do something, that in a short time from now, someone will be helping with after I die.”

Now, in my gut I have held the belief that I don’t have cancer. Maybe in the quiet moments, on occasion, I tell myself I should at least be prepared for it.

We arrived at the service and it was like nothing I had ever seen. A full procession, a vintage fire truck, and bagpipes. What felt like 300 firefighters were in the rows behind the family. The traditions were touching. His daughters’ speeches were moving. Hearing grown men swallow tears made it hard to maintain composure.

I grounded myself. I told myself that I was rooted, grounded and protected. I imagined roots tunnelling from my feet. I imagined them spreading across the large room in all directions, and I felt my heart rate settle.

Afterwards we made our way past the news cameras, televising the funeral and interviewing some of the guests, and greeted my husband’s cousin. A lovely woman, cute and friendly, with the air of deep sadness that comes from losing your spouse. She turned to me:

“Don’t be worried about this okay.”

I instantly knew what she meant. It was like she had read my mind.

“What he had, was different than you. Remember that.”

“I’m trying.”

Honestly, I feel like those 2 words sum up a lot of this experience for me. I’m trying. Trying to be positive, trying to be patient.

Days later my phone rang while I was at work. It was my oncologist. He was calling 5 days before our scheduled phone appointment.

“Oh hi Amanda, it’s doctor G.”

“Oh hi!”

“So we got your biopsy results.”

This I knew. My endocrinologist got them first, before Christmas. My physician called second, after Christmas. I didn’t know the details beyond atypical cells being found again.

“The hospital wasn’t much help, and couldn’t determine the pathology.”

0/2 Joseph Brant, 0/2.

“So, I am having the report sent here for my team to review it. Then I will schedule an appointment for you to come in and we can decide whether you need surgery or not.”

My mind was reeling. Come in? He told me he would schedule a phone call last time so we didn’t have to deal with Toronto’s nightmarish traffic. Surgery? He told me last time that he wouldn’t suggest surgery for a possibly benign mass since the risks outweighed the reward.

“Okay but we have a phone appointment on Tuesday.”

“Oh that will have to be bumped. This will take about 2 weeks. I will have my receptionist schedule you in.”

Baffled and only 8 minutes before I need to slap on my work face and get back to it.

I called my husband and told him what happened. I said that either he knew something he wasn’t telling me, or he didn’t have the previous information from our appointment in front of him when he called, and he was just spewing standard medical jargon.

“What the fuck is going on? I’m freaked out a bit.”

“Don’t be.”

“I’m trying.”

That’s all I’ve got right now. The ability to try. To focus on my inner peace, and try to maintain it.

The last few months have felt like a building momentum. My meditations have intensified, and dream work has started to occur. A form a meditation that happens while we sleep. The thoughts, and residue lingering in the air when I wake. Lessons of shadow work, letting go of old emotional wounds, and soothing my inner child.

All of this has been a work in progress. My younger self is painful to revisit. A sad, and lonely girl, who used to ask if she was adopted because she felt different. Felt like she didn’t belong. A child who developed tactics to only be seen, but not heard. Cleaning up the mess before she got in trouble for it, and never truly feeling believed.

I wish I could go back and shelter her. Protect her little heart from the adult feelings she felt. The adult lessons she learned before she could truly make sense of them.

It is funny how experiencing pain can sometimes feel like healing. Maybe it is why I have always loved tattoos. Pain therapy. It makes me think of the expression of walking into the fire. Healing past wounds doesn’t come without discomfort. Often you are facing things, head on, that you would rather bury in the sand. Reflecting on things you used to avoid.

From that discomfort, and rediscovering myself, a newfound passion has emerged. I’ve worked as a massage therapist for 18 years. It probably look me 10, to realize I am really good at what I do. But being good at something, isn’t the same as being passionate about it.

I took a second crystals course a few months ago. It touched upon crystal healing. That is the act of placing crystals on certain chakras to help with energy flow, and blockages. When I tried reiki, it was centred around energy flow of the 7 main chakras. Opening up ones that may be partially, or even fully closed.

Consider love, for example, the primary energy in our heart chakra. When we struggle to love ourselves, or have experienced heartbreak, that chakra can become shuttered. We will guard ourselves against any vulnerability that could lead to more pain, and become closed off.

When I encounter people with physical tension, there is often an underlying emotional element to it. Clients talk of stress, too much work, illnesses, or loss of relationships. They feel the physical pain of having tight muscles, but most of what they describe is emotional.

I’ve realized that was what is missing from my practice. It was also what was missing from my own life. For so long I had focused only on physical health, like I focused on the anatomy, and muscles at work. Now I have a desire to integrate. Working with my own energy, building my meditation practice has changed my life. It has changed my anxiety levels, my overly analytical brain. It has opened my heart in a way that is palpable. I want that for others.

I have decided, in the new year, I will focus taking reiki courses until I achieve my master level. I am also planning a course on crystal healing. Crystals have brought me so much joy. I feel as though they are a tool that can help soften emotional blockages, and encourage healthy energy flow throughout the body.

Integrating massage with reiki and crystals would be such a well rounded approach to wellness. I see it as a way to relieve physical tension, and pain, while also addressing the underlying energetic, and emotional elements contributing to it.

I already know when I will be taking these courses, and am just patiently waiting for those dates to arrive. In the meantime, I am focused on my own practice, as well as tapping into channeling energy, instead of solely using my own energy during my massage work.

I’m paying attention to the signs I am receiving, trusting my intuition, and working on strengthening my inner voice.

2025 has been the wildest year of my life, and yet I wouldn’t trade it. It has brought me to a place of peace I didn’t think was obtainable. It’s a gift I am hoping to share with others. Wishing everyone a blessed New Year!

This time it was decided that I would go to my biopsy on my own. They fall on Tuesdays, when I am off, and my husband had already taken many days off for my appointments, at this point.

My anxiety was a bit high as I headed out the door. It’s the logistics that get me. Parking, finding where I need to go, traffic, getting out of the house on time.

My appointment was at 8:45am, so I was leaving my house earlier than I normally would. Repeating instructions for my youngest, over and over, because I wasn’t going to be home to see her off to school.

“Don’t be late. Leave on time. Don’t forget to lock the door. Pay attention to the ice while walking.”

I pulled into the parking lot, and began the process of figuring out their parking. Back and forth between ticket machines, and the ticket booth. One of those logistical nightmares I had been dreading. It seems like it should be illegal to have to pay for parking at the hospital. People under the stress of testing for serious diseases, or visiting dying loved ones, worrying over testy technology.

There is a general check-in area for all types of imaging. Doris, the 90 something year old volunteer, will guide you where to go to grab a number, and wait your turn.

I got called up and the nervous humour started.

“Have you been in contact with anyone who has measles in the last 3 weeks?”

“I sure as hell hope not!” I laughed.

She just stared at me.

I got my form and headed down the hall to the waiting room. I was barely in a seat for a moment before I got called into the changing area.

I knew the rundown. Top and bra off, gown open to the front. Belongings all go in the locker, lock the lock and take the key.

Before I went to the room, I grounded myself. Closed my eyes, felt my feet and told myself I was grounded, safe and protected. Rooted, stable and secure.

I had the ultrasound component first before the radiologist came in. He told me he would be freezing my neck and taking 3 samples.

First they clean your neck with a pink solution that stains your skin. I was thinking about how I had gone to a garden centre right after the first biopsy. Today I would be going to finish up my Christmas shopping. Let people stare. There is no easy way to get this stuff off.

“Okay I am going to freeze you now. Just a little prick, and some burning.”

A little worse than last time. I took this time to call in my spirit guides, guardian angel, Archangel Raphael, my Mom and my Nan. I felt a twinge behind my eyes when I thought of my Mom and Nan. I almost thought I might cry for a second.

“I am going to take the first sample now.”

Where the first radiologist had been slow and methodical with sliding the needle back and forth to gather cells, this guy was a jiggler. Rapid up and down, back and forth. I was glad I couldn’t feel more than just the initial pressure. Think of it like getting blood drawn. Which each replacement vile, you feel pressure. That is what I felt in my throat. I just laid there with my neck extended, and turned to the left.

Before I knew it, it was over. My neck already starting to feel a bit sore.

“I wish all of my patients were like you.”

“Are your patients not usually like me?”

“You are very calm.”

Little did he know that I had called in an angelic army to calm me.

“Well, I have been through this before. That, and I grounded myself before we got started. That helped.”

Fingers crossed that this test will provide the clarity I am after. I should have the results by mid January.

The day had arrived and I was a mess. My anxiety was high and Toronto driving was not helping. Packing hematite in both pockets, because I needed all the grounding I could get.

We barely found parking. The clock was ticking down. At one point my husband told me I should just head in without him and he would circle around.

By the time we got out of the car, I was on the brink of having a panic attack. He stopped me in the street and told me to breathe. It was cold, unseasonably cold. I should have worn a jacket. My muscles were cramping and we weren’t going to make it on time. We had committed the tragic mistake of parking at the Mars building, and coming out the wrong side of the underground. We had so far to go to get to where I needed to be.

I made it to my waiting area with 6 minutes to spare. My husband had rushed back to pay for parking, after forgetting to do it.

I scanned the waiting room. Maybe a dozen other people filled the room. Some masked, some not. Some old, and some young. I noticed the woman there with her husband and toddler. Something about that tugged at my heart.

My husband rejoined me and I got called into a waiting room. In the hallway, I could see my oncologist verbally dictating notes. My husband and I made small talk, with the occasional medical terms floating around in the background.

I could hear the nurse in the next room with a patient.

“Has your voice changed at all since surgery?”

“Oh ya, I sound a lot different.”

“Have you noticed any other side effects?”

“Well, everything I eat tastes the same. Last week I had coffee and it tasted like salt.”

I cringed.

“That does sometimes happen with radiation. It likely won’t last. Okay, we are going to scope you now. That’s it, you’re doing great.”

The scope, as it turned out, was the device that was hanging in our room that kept hitting my husband in the head. Call it a foreshadowing of sorts.

Then it was my turn. A nurse came in the room first and asked me some questions.

“Are you having any symptoms? Trouble swallowing?”

The million dollar question.

“Yes, actually. There are certain things I am struggling with. Dry things, like bread, and chewy things, like my protein bars.”

“Okay we are going to scope you.”

I froze. I wasn’t expecting that.

“I am going to insert this tube up your nose, and down your throat. The hardest part is the nose. It feels like getting a Covid swab.”

Turns out she was a liar, and a sadist. The nose was easy compared to the throat. I swallowed.

“Oh no, try not to swallow, and breathe through your nose.”

Mind over matter I told myself. Relax. Nope. Swallow.

“Try not to swallow.”

Swallow. Swallow. Swallow. It was all I could do now. I was panicking. I went into fight or flight mode. I no longer saw her, it was just blind fear. Arms flailing, I’m surprised I didn’t hit her.

“Okay, okay. All done. You did great.”

Liar.

I was coughing, tears running down my face. Nose burning, and the feeling of something lingering in my throat. I quickly tried to gather myself.

Dr.G came in shortly after. He was a tiny man in black plastic rimmed glasses, and scrubs. He wore rubber shoes that looked like clogs. He stood on the outside of his feet the entire time he spoke to me. He was like a leprechaun, and I hoped he had a pot of gold at the end of his rainbow, because my patience was getting really thin.

“Okay Amanda, so our team reviewed your pathology and it came back as benign.”

“Oh great!”

“Yeah, but, the ultrasound you had done here last week, showed a 4 out of 5 risk of this being cancer.”

Here we go again. Not cancer, but not-not cancer either.

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, we aren’t sure about the discrepancy between the two. My suggestion would be to repeat the biopsy.”

“Don’t biopsy results normally trump ultrasound results?”

“Usually, yes. That is why I figure if we get one more benign biopsy result, we will conclude that it is the case.”

“I have a secondary biopsy booked for December 9th. My endo booked it thinking it might be necessary.”

“That’s great. Have the report sent here and we will call you with the results just before the holidays, so you don’t have to come out all this way again.”

“Or, if the results are bad, wait until after the holidays.” lol

My nervous habit of making jokes, even bad ones, was making an appearance.

He also mentioned he wouldn’t opt for surgery with a benign mass. I had received differing information on that. It can injure the vocal cords, and since thyroid nodules are slow growing, our esophagus usually adapts around them. He had patients with 8 to 9cm masses still in their throats. Mine was 3.2.

“From there, you would just be monitored.”

We would keep an eye on thing 1, and biopsy thing 2 once it was large enough.

Some of the information was a relief, but I was tired. Tired of the back and forth, and the not knowing. Tired of the tests, procedures and appointments. Access to healthcare is a privilege, and yet I longed for the days where a day off meant doing something I enjoyed. Maybe that will be the case again soon.

The day of the retreat had arrived. I headed over tentatively. I was still contemplating the significance of this. I knew there had to be a reason I ended up connecting with S.

When I first heard from her as a response to my Facebook post, it seemed to just be a nice coincidence that she had a meditation and sound bath planned for the day of my oncology appointment. When she told me she also had a throat chakra retreat planned, well, that was when I found it hard to believe she hadn’t intentionally been placed on my path.

The retreat was half a day, taking place in her home studio. We would be spending the day meditating, journaling, sharing and eating. All of this would be capped off with a sound bath.

It was a small group of ladies. We went through our introductions and started talking about what had brought us to the retreat, and our connection to the throat chakra.

Our throat chakra is the energy centre in our throat. It is responsible for communication and truth. Many of the women had felt silenced as children, the idea of kids being seen, but not heard. For many that had created anxiety issues around public speaking, or simply stopped them from using their voices.

The lady who spoke before me had been crying. I took note of it. I didn’t judge her but it made me feel a bit squeamish, the idea of being so open with people we mostly didn’t know.

My turn came to share. I had been rehearsing it in my head.

“My journey started as something health related that lead me to meditation. I ended up meeting S & L through a Facebook post while looking for meditation classes.

I mentioned the events S had told me about, and how this one hardly felt like a coincidence to me.

As I started to get into my health issues, and the fact that I might have cancer, I felt a burning in my throat. That constricting and swallowing that starts before you cry. I was horrified. I tried to trample it down, but I couldn’t.

I was ugly crying. Sobbing, gulping and gasping. I couldn’t speak. I just cried. Whispering “sorry”, inbetween gasps as I tried to collect myself. They sat in silence while I gathered myself. It wasn’t rushed, or uncomfortable, it just was.

I realized then that I hadn’t cried throughout this whole process, not really. I cried for a moment when I got my biopsy report. It almost felt like crying was omission of belief. The belief that I did have cancer. I felt my mind go into those dark corners as I lay awake in bed sometimes, but I also felt that thinking it, becomes living it.

When I stopped crying, I managed to continue speaking. I spoke of the fear I had around my possible diagnosis. The fact that I should have some answers soon. I noticed that I didn’t feel that heavy, emotional drain that I normally would after crying like that. The kind that leaves you yearning for a nap. I just felt lighter.

The rest of the day passed by peacefully. We ate lots of brie and baguettes, journaled some prompts about the throat chakra, and did some breath work and meditation.

It takes a lot for me to feel comfortable with people, and yet I was at ease. I was starting to encounter people who were aligned with the new path I was on. A path that was entirely different than any path I had yet to venture on. A path that makes you feel vulnerable at times, and yet it was also rewarding. Peeling away the layers of yourself that had left you numb.

L, who ran the sound bath component of these events, and I had connected over crystals. She had told me about an amazing wholesaler out in Fergus that will be visiting soon. She also gifted us each a beautiful piece of raw kyanite, which is connected to the throat chakra.

S knew of my love of crystals as well. She even asked if I taught a crystal classes. During our conversation she mentioned being drawn to moss agate. I decided that I would get her one, her first crystal, for when I saw her next. She had found herself drawn to it, and I know how special that feeling can be. Though, if you asked my husband, he would tell you that I have been drawn to far too many crystals 😅.

After our journaling we were asked if we would like to share anything else. A lot of the prompts during our journaling were about speaking your truth. I have come to realize that for many, speaking the truth is the easy part. It is living your truth that can be most difficult. Often, people believe that if they unburden themselves with words, that is enough to move forward. If we speak, and never learn, never change our behaviours, our words have just been empty. That is something I realized during my time with the group.

I ended up buying S a tree agate. It reminded me of the trees in her backyard that I experienced during my first sound bath meditation with her and L. It felt really nice to be the one to give her the first crystal, and she was touched that I remembered her mentioning it.

Tree agate is the sister to both dendritic agate, and moss agate. It helps you connect with nature, and to reconnect with your inner child. A gift from my heart to a new friend, to help connect her to her heart chakra. A token of appreciation for helping me communicate my emotions around my cancer scare, for the first time.

The call came on October 14th, while I sat in the dentist’s chair. My referral had been accepted.

I was now in the hands of Dr. G, a world renowned oncologist surgeon out of Princess Margaret Hospital. He is involved in thyroid cancer research, and a professor at University of Toronto. Dealing with his office was a totally different ball game than the oncologist I had first been referred to.

“Dr. G received your referral. Firstly, he is not happy with your pathology report. He is having it sent here so our team can review it. He wants your ultrasound redone at Princess Margaret, so I have scheduled that for November 12th. Then I have scheduled you to see the doctor on November 18th.”

My mind was buzzing. Why was he fitting me in so soon? Did he see something he was really concerned about? I felt uneasy about stepping foot in Princess Margaret. It felt ominous. My Mother had her radiation there when she had breast cancer. My Nan had radiation there less than a year ago, just before she died.

“Why is he seeing me so soon?” I blurted out.

“It is hard to triage someone when we don’t know the pathology of what they have.”

“So I shouldn’t see this as him being concerned enough to see me quickly?”

“No.”

“Is it possible to get both appointments on the same day?”

“I looked into that. You would have to wait until March.”

“Okay, November it is!”

“We have planned out the dates so we have your pathology in hand when you meet Dr.G. Between that and the ultrasound, we are trying to prevent a second biopsy.”

A few weeks later we set off to Toronto. Not a good drive on the best of days. What should take 40 minutes ended up being 1.5 hours.

While Princess Margaret Hospital is a world renowned cancer hospital, it is very unassuming from the outside. It barely even has signage. The inside isn’t much better. Outdated, and rundown in a few places. Nevertheless, I felt like I was in the best possible place. There was nowhere else where I would receive this level of care.

They run their testing 24 hours a day, so my ultrasound was at 7:15pm. Eerily empty except for cleaners, and those of us waiting on testing.

I was taken in promptly, and quickly realized my ultrasound process would be much different than the ones I had previously. It took longer, and felt much more thorough. Extra imaging, more positioning. I took note of how many images were being saved.

“When I finish here, I will step out and review the images. I will come back in and let you know whether we need more, or if you are free to go.”

In the end, she had enough images. I got dressed again as my nodule ached. It had received too much stimulation for one day. It was interesting how something I hadn’t even realized I had, just months ago, was now something I could feel, and see.

Waiting had been the theme of this process. I only needed to wait 6 more days for answers, or so I thought.

I initially approached my friend Megan, who I’ve known since high school, for guidance. Having been involved in the metaphysical world for a decade, she has offered advice to me about the journey I am on, which at times has been overwhelming.

I started to find myself interested in a service she provided called Akashic Records readings. Think of your akashic records as an archive of all of your past lives. The human experiences your soul has had, who you were, what your lives have been like, and the lessons you did, and didn’t learn.

The idea of past lives is taboo to some, which is interesting considering that to me, it is just a grander scale to what most are taught to believe. We live many lives here to grow and learn as souls. To become closer to the most enlightened. A school for our souls. We are meant to learn how to love in the most purest form, to be creative and passionate, and also have a strong connection with our inner self.

I was itching to know more. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I was curious, so I signed up for a session.

“I need your full, current legal name to start so I can open your records.”

“Amanda Doris Costa. Keep the Doris part on the down low, because most people don’t know it.”

“The first thing I heard when you said that was ‘It’s a family name, you should be proud of it’. Is it a family name?”

“Yes. It was my Nan’s name, her mother’s name, and my paternal grandmother’s name.”

My Nan had passed less than a year prior. If anyone was giving me shit over it, it was her.

“First off, your guides have come through. They are telling me you need to breathe.”

Was I holding my breath? Yup, I was.

“I can see that they present themselves to you as a blue light. They want me to acknowledge that you have been putting in the work and building your practice. Even if things get difficult, they want you to continue with what you are doing, and not give up.”

From that point on, we jumped into it. There were some very surprising things I discovered. I will give you the highlights.

“I miscarried between my girls. I would like to know if the baby I lost was a boy.”

When I was 19, a hand reader told me I would have 2 girls and a boy. When I miscarried, shortly after, my Nan started having dreams about my Mom holding a crying baby boy. Part of me always thought he was ours.

“Well this is interesting. Metaphorically, yes, that baby would have been a boy if that pregnancy had gone to term. The thing is though, the soul of that baby, is the same soul as your younger daughter.”

“What do you mean?”

“That soul wanted to be your child. They decided to wait until you conceived again, and came through then. What I am seeing is that when you lost that pregnancy, it was because you were in a very bad mental state, and carrying that baby would have been detrimental to your health.”

I had miscarried 6 weeks before my Mom died of cancer. It was the worst time of my life. It was hard having a child you know a loved one is leaving behind. It was also hard having a child since her passing, but there is something particularly cruel about the thought of having been pregnant when she passed.

I have had this further validated. I was told that when we miscarry, or experience pregnancy loss at any stage, that soul sits in the mother’s heart until she conceives again. There was something so comforting to me about the idea that the loss I felt, was not really a loss, but a delay. I wondered how many women would feel peace from thinking of their situations that way.

The other surprising part of my reading, is something I am still coming to terms with. When I was absent during my meditations, I had asked my spirit guides where I was going. It was confirmed that I was visiting them, my guardian angel, and someone else in the spirit realm. I had asked if that someone else was my Mom, or my Nan, and the answer was no. I was perplexed.

I brought this up during my akashic reading.

“I am seeing a white entity. Masculine energy. Did you lose anyone significant during your teens?”

My mind immediately went to someone familial.

“Well my great grandfather passed when I was 12. I didn’t lose anyone else until my 20s.”

Megan waited through my pregnant pause. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Mike.”

It came out almost like a whisper.

Mike, the troubled boy I’d befriended in grade 7. Briefly a boyfriend, before our relationship evolved into a very intense friendship. He was the reason my parents got me my own phone line. I simply couldn’t keep tying up the phone every night for hours while him and I spoke.

“I can see you guys were young but it was a more mature kind of relationship.”

“He was a kid with adult problems. He carried on to make others laugh. They were laughing at him, not with him. I saw through that, and I knew something was wrong.”

“That is who you are visiting.”

“Okay, but why?”

“Because he is your soulmate. You’ve been in each of each other’s lives to some capacity.”

The last time I saw Mike was in grade 9, at a house party. It was awkward. We hadn’t seen each other in months, and he was there with a guy who went to his high school, that clearly wasn’t liked. We stared from across the room, burning holes into each other. Eventually him and his friend got kicked out. I reached out to him the next day, feeling immature for not speaking to him. It was then he told me that his family was moving to New Hampshire. We promised to keep in touch, but we didn’t.

In grade 11, I got the news that he had taken his own life. It took the wind of me. I was consumed by guilt. I thought maybe if I had stayed in touch with him, I could have helped him. I wanted to attend his funeral, but my parents decided against it. I dreamed of him, in a way that felt like a visit. A dream with words spoken, that vanished when I awoke, my hand on my cheek where his had been. I wrote stories about him. He still crosses my mind near his birthday, and near the day he died.

“I am seeing that he wasn’t near you during the time of his passing because it would have been detrimental to your health. You were going through something that mental, and physically made you fragile at that time. I am seeing it was food related.”

“I was recovering from an eating disorder. My doctor had scared me into eating again because I kept getting strep throat that wasn’t going away. ‘If you don’t start eating, this could turn into strep A, which affects your heart, and you could die’.”

Again, I’ve had this info validated during a second reading. I was told that Mike and I have been everything from lovers, to mother and son, and father and daughter. It has changed my perspective on the term ‘soulmate’. I always thought of that as a romantic relationship, when it turns out to be all types of love.

I hope to delve into this a bit more. I also discovered my oldest daughter has been my child before, and that my husband and I have been married once, and were also friends in a past life.

It is all very fascinating. The connections we make, the depth of which we don’t fully understand. All of this is a journey towards our soul’s progression. The human experience. It has been a wildly eye opening time. One that I was very much not expecting, and one that I am still exploring, and processing.

Hiking trips over the Thanksgiving weekend had become my oldest daughter and I’s tradition.

This year I had chosen the Midland area, and extended the trip by a day. We had rented a cute Airbnb within walking distance of the old downtown area. It was central to cute shops, and restaurants, and about 25 minutes from each of the trail areas we had decided on.

I brought some of my crystals up with me so that I could continue my daily meditation practice. While I am capable of meditating without them, my preference is to include them. I had also researched a couple local metaphysical shops to visit in the area as well.

I was also keeping up with my grounding, though I’m sure the neighbours were curious about the girl in her pajamas, standing barefoot on the lawn at 7am each morning.

Our first hiking day was spent at the Georgian Bay Islands National Park. This happens to be the smallest park in Canada. It requires taking a ferry, and choosing between the 2 sides of the island. The Beausoleil side of the island is much more rugged, and considered to be better for hiking, so we chose that.

The island is entirely Canadian Shield, and hiking that was a first for me. It was intense, and slippery. We spent 4 hours on the island, exploring its many lookout points, and taking in nature.

Being in nature has become so calming for me, a reset of sorts. My reiki practitioner had mentioned seeing this trip, which I had booked back in July, and how it would be good for me.

I snuck in a little beach side meditation while my girl ate some snacks, and just enjoyed the slower pace of my day. Surrounded by trees and water, in an element I’ve come to enjoy much more than being around people.

After we took the ferry back to our car, we decided to head into town to a little crystal shop called Tiny Gems. I highly recommend it if you ever visit the Midland area. They had all kinds of tumbles, palms and raw pieces, most notably, amethyst from a mine owned by the shop.

The second day we were heading off to Awenda Provincial Park, an area with over 30 km of trails situated in and around Lake Huron.

We did a combination of the Bluff and Wendat trails, which were around 14km, and took us around 3 hours to complete.

The Bluff trail, in particular, is considered a hard trail, and so we mostly had that to ourselves. Personally, I would rate it moderate.

After our long day of hiking, we ventured back into town for some antiquing at an old library turned vintage store, called Olde Town Library. Such a unique spot, filled with all kinds of knickknacks, and a cafe in the back that looks straight out of the 1920s.

Our last stop was a local Mexican restaurant called Zanca. The only thing I enjoy more than being in nature, is good food. Very authentic, really fresh, and their assortment of made in-house hot sauces were deadly.

Overall, the weekend was a success. Plenty of time in the great outdoors, some window shopping, all capped off by eating Haagen-Dasz bars in bed while watching Letterkenny.

I was rediscovering how to balance my time between work and play, and the added perk was the quality time I had gotten with each of my girls by doing this solo trips with them. I left Midland with gratitude in my heart, and fresh air in my lungs.

I was in a pendulum session one day when I pulled a card that made my breath catch in my throat. A health card.

I didn’t understand. I had been doing all the things. I’d had taken the tests, and I was trying to balance my work and home life better. I had been actively putting my emotional, and mental health first, while trying to sort out my physical ailments. I was perplexed by this draw.

“Do I have something else going on with my health?”

The pendulum circled clockwise.

“Yes. Thank you.”

I pondered for a moment before I was nudged.

“Do I have an auto-immune disease?”

Yes.

I wracked my brain for the autoimmune diseases I knew off-hand. I already have hypothyroidism, and years ago I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia.

“Do I have rheumatoid arthritis?”

The pendulum circled counterclockwise.

“No. Thank you.”

“Do I have lupus?”

No.

I couldn’t think of anything else so I ended the session, as I always do.

“Thank you for your time.”

The next morning I started researching. I had some odd things happen over the past few years, and I remember my sister saying the thought there was more to it than met the eye.

I stumbled upon an autoimmune disease that felt like a smack across the face. As I scanned the symptoms, I realized I was the poster child for it.

Chronic eye infections, check. I was getting them monthly at one point.

Salivary gland issues, check. My right one had been swollen, and partially blocked for almost 2 years now.

Dry mouth, check. The newest symptom, and the most annoying. It mostly affected my right side of my mouth.

Joint pain, check. My knees in particular.

Linked to hypothyroidism. Well, I’d been blessed with that almost 14 years ago.

Hell, it even explained the chronic dryness in my right fingertips. Something that started when I had Covid back in 2022. It started with my favourite finger, the middle one, and slowly spread to 3 others. The dermatologist hadn’t been able to figure that one out.

The autoimmune disease is called Sjögren’s pronounced SHOW-grens. It was discovered in 1933, by Swedish ophthalmologist Henrik Sjögren, who noticed some people with chronic eye dryness had a common set of other symptoms.

Essentially it is a dehydration disease. It causes chronic dryness through various systems. That also explained blood results I had that signalled that I was dehydrated. The only real treatment plan is treating each individual symptom, and research has found that following a strict immune protocol diet can be beneficial as well.

I am currently in the diagnostic process for this. It turns out it can quite difficult, and time consuming to get a firm diagnosis for this disease. It often takes 3-10 years from initial symptoms to see positive blood markers, if at all.

In the meantime, I have started removing certain foods from my diet to see if that helps improve some things. It is similar to paleo, but is also grain and dairy free.

I am still wrapping my mind around how I came to know this information. It certainly wasn’t something I ever expected to experience. That being said, this past week I pulled a card that proves that while my guides are wise, they also have a sense of humour.