Embodying the Phoenix – Part Two: Rising from the Ashes

After my discovery of my current spirit animal being a phoenix, I began contemplating the many ways in which I have changed throughout the course of my healing journey. Through this contemplation I went back automatically to my steps for healing the mind. In telling you this next part, I feel it is important to break it down, step by step for you.

“It takes but one moment in life to change the entirety of your existence. One beautiful unfurling of butterfly wings, one blossom of the floral petals of your heart. What beautiful things, change and growth are. What beauty arises out of the darkest moments.”


Catalyst

There were two major catalyst that led to my most recent fire cleansing and rebirth. The first came in the form of a saliva DNA genome panel in 2019. After years of medical issues, a diagnosis of Common Variable Immunodeficiency, and continual complications with the Immunoglobulin treatments that seemingly were then shutting down my liver, causing damage to my liver, spleen, kidneys, and pancreas, my doctors were at a loss for any form of explanations of why these things were occurring. Every time I would have a new infusion done, I would have more illnesses, more pain, and reactions that mimicked organ rejection, only this was within my blood stream in a domino effect.

When I received the results of my genome panel, my sole focus was on the pathogenic genes that were found, as well as the ones that were flagged because they were unknown for significance, but impacted health with other better-known variants. As though I was staring directly into the face of the things that would be my death, I was found to have all the Breast cancer gene mutations, all the high risk for oncogenes, as well as the potential for Hemochromatosis (excess build-up of iron in the blood and the organs, particularly the heart causing sudden cardiac death), and early ovarian failure. I was horrified. When I took it to my doctors, they were all of the same mind, from my oncologist to my primary care doctor to my immunologist to my gynecologist and finally to my general surgeon. Given the fact that my uterus had already been removed due to disordering of cells indicating early-stage uterine cancer, a year, and a half after having my left ovary covering inside and out with cysts and scar tissue, and the newest lab work showing that I was in early menopause at the age of 32, my final remaining ovary was now in early ovarian failure. My risk of breast cancer was rising on a seemingly daily basis, and all the doctors wanted me to have a prophylactic double mastectomy and reconstruction, removal of my right ovary, and starting me first on blood thinners and then estrogen replacement therapy. The blood thinners were a necessity because of a familial inheritance of something called Factor V Leiden, well known within the women in my extended family, which causes high risk of blood clots with any form of hormone therapies, including estrogen and birth control. Over the years I had seen my D-Dimer blood levels (which when they rise indicate a blood clot somewhere in the body, often times in the legs or the lungs), though thankfully I never was found to have blood clots, my theory on which being that I have low platelet counts which combated that. Who could have guessed that one medical anomaly would potentially save my life from a secondary one? Though I don’t have the proof of it, I feel the truth of it within my heart, and I have learned to trust these notions because they have been the ones that have saved my life, time and time again.

My surgery was scheduled, my emotions were all over the place, and my body continued to break down more and more. I was the walking embodiment of a wreck, mentally, physically, and emotionally. Then, spring of 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic hit. My surgery which was a long and grueling recovery, was no longer advisable. Given being immunocompromised, the doctors were more worried about me contracting a deadly infection while my body was recovering from the trauma of surgery. To this day, I have not reconsidered having the surgery done. I am no longer in the same place in my life, but that is a story for another day.

When all of this happened, without the history of breast cancer on my mother’s side, and not a close enough connection with my father’s side of the family that I was made aware of, I did the thing that I do the most often, research. Within the genetic panel that I had done, I was able to look at the raw data of the DNA, there was a DNA explorer program. When I began looking into it, I spent hours upon hours daily, writing notes, doing internet searches, and spending my time completely consumed with the National Health Databases and the Gene Cards available to me online. It was then that I discovered that my genome panel showed a 46, XY chromosomal panel. Male.

I had had two bone marrow biopsies in the prior years, one in 2017 and one in 2018. Both times they did a karyotype study and both times it came back as normal female karyotype, 46, XX. How could my saliva be different? I immediately contacted the testing facility. They reran the genetic panel, same result. Tried for a tertiary run, but there just wasn’t enough. They sent me a new test to be run. I have not yet sent it back, for it no longer is needed anymore. I discovered enough in other ways as well that created a non-issue with being retested time and time again. I spoke with my doctor, as well as a geneticist. Both have confirmed the likelihood that I do truly have two lines of DNA within my body. I am a womb twin survivor. I had a brother within the womb who was not meant to survive. He was not meant for this life. I cannot tell you how I know this, I simply call it a “knowing,” one of the claircognizant informative downloads given to me by higher powers, that I held my brother as he died. Afterward, the loss was something that I absorbed into my body. Making me what the medical community calls a chimera.

Tower moment at its best, I was a twin. It was something I always felt within, but never told anyone because I truly believed that it was something that every child felt in their lives. After beginning to open up to my family and friends about it, I found out that it wasn’t normal to grow up with an “imaginary” twin in childhood. To feel like you don’t belong, to feel wrong, to feel like you shouldn’t be alive, you weren’t meant to live, and that you were always trying to make everything better while feeling so wrong inside. Those were not normal feelings, but I never spoke of them until I found out about being a twin and began reading about what it meant to be a womb twin survivor.

Fast forward to the spring of 2021. After going through an intense spiritual awakening, embracing my psychic spiritual gifts, stepping more firmly into being a psychic medium, becoming a Reiki master, and lucking my way into a free ticket into a mediumship Zoom fundraiser for Mission-22 (Mission 22), set up to honor military mental health awareness. Things work out as they are meant to work out, this was a lesson I learned very firmly after that Zoom meeting. I was meant to be paired with a medium during the actual meeting itself, but things didn’t quite work out that way. Instead the head of the fundraiser, Deborah Romero (Medium Deborah Romero | Facebook), stayed behind and did a private reading with me after everyone else had disconnected.

When we started, the first thing she told me was that she was picking up the spirit of my brother. Unbeknownst to her, as we had never met prior to this, and she knew nothing about me or my back story, this was the confirmation I was hoping for with our session. Tears flowed down my face as I told her what had happened, what I knew, and what I had named him. Whether I named him myself, or whether it was my dad who is with me all the time, had given me the name he would have had when he lived, it was his name, Jonah Philip Herrick, J.P. Every subsequent thing that she felt, saw, and heard in our session was so spot on I was reeling from it for days. She talked about a tattoo that I had with my father’s handwriting from a letter he sent me, something she didn’t know about and couldn’t see. When I asked her if there was anyone else there, she asked about a cousin of mine. Everything she mentioned were things I wondered about continually. Did they know how I thought of them? Did they value the things that I did in our relationships? Were they still with me?

As a medium I had been given all these answers from them already, but I still struggled with believing. Sometimes in the midst of sadness we can create situations that are salves to the wounds of our hearts. This was not that case. In this case, there was nothing fabricated, there was only confirmation of what I already knew, already felt, had already heard and received. Deborah Romero, like her friend Michael Christopher(https://thekismetchemist.com/2021/03/03/evidential-transformation/) had swooped in on angel wings and changed the course of my life, healed me, opened me to more, and helped me to find what I needed to do next.

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