In sharing one’s truth, their story, their own personal journey through healing, I truly believe…is healing in itself. My personal healing is how Haus of Healings came to be and I’d like to share my story with you. This post will share a portion of the story and as this blog continues, so will the tellings.
On November 21st, 2021, I woke in the middle of the night in a wave of heat that felt as if the sun had taken residence in the core of my soul. I was struggling to breathe and delirious…out of sorts entirely. I stumbled to the bathroom, climbed in the shower, hung my rosary over the shower head and turned the near-cold water on… That was the last conscious thing that happened that night. Almost as soon as the water hit my skin, the seizures began. My body collapsed, and my then boney spine, cracked against the ceramic floor of the tub. Seizure after seizure wrecked its havoc and it felt as if it would have no end. To this day I have no recollection of what time it was when I woke or how long that Hel took its toll on me.
I do remember at one point, during a brief moment of consciousness, that my youngest child was sleeping soundly in their room, on the other side of the bathroom, in their bed. They had school in the morning. I remember saying to myself, “You cannot die. You cannot die Sabra. Eva needs you, Kai needs you…You have to get up. Get up Sabra… GET UP!” Yet, I could not. Nothing would work. It was then that I was convinced that I broken my back in the initial fall. Just as quickly as that thought came, so did another round of seizures. After that round finally let up, I was able to refocus on my life, my kids, and somehow…getting help.
**I do also remember that there were so many shamanic visions that came through during each seizure. As if laying out a story…more on that at a later date.**
“Get up…crawl if you have to…just get out of this damn tub and get to your child…” I wasn’t’ sure what would happen once I got there but I recall thinking that if this was it…if this was the end…then I’m sure as hell not going out in a damn bathtub, so long as I can help it. They were 9 years old at the time and being children born in the tech age, they have very ample knowledge on how to use a phone and call 911…perhaps that was what I was hoping for. That maybe they would awake and I could figure out a way to tell them to call for help. I also couldn’t speak…I tried screaming, thinking maybe the lady in the duplex above us would hear me…maybe even a neighbor. But nothing came out.
Another moment of consciousness came and I mustered up a strength I now know came from the deepest part of my Spirit, with the help of my ancestors, spirit guides, and guardian Angels…one limb at a time I threw myself over the edge of the tub and on to the floor. My face laid next to the heat vent that was shared with my children’s room…I could feel their tiny little snore and could see their arm dangling over the edge of their bed as I laid tired and unmoving. They were RIGHT THERE. Another round of seizures happened, but hey, I was out of the fucking tub and I could SEE my kid. “Just around the corner. Thats all ya gotta do kiddo…” I could my late father’s voice echo in my heart. “You’ve got this. You’re tougher than this shit. I’ve watched you conquer more than any woman I know…you have to do this. I’m with you the whole way.” My dad was my many things in my life, my trainer in boxing being one. Being born near dead and then surviving Scarlet Fever in 1989, resulting in degenerative deafness…he took it upon himself to show me and our world, that nothing was gonna stop me. Even my own health.
Soaking wet, I military crawled, more so pulled…myself out of the bathroom, around the corner, into their room and onto my eldest child’s bed. They were at their father’s so the bed was empty. I didn’t have the energy to attempt to wake my youngest. I did realize that the sun was coming up and it would be soon that they would be waking to get ready for school. I was so exhausted. As I laid there, before drifting off, I was thinking of how much I love those two little humans with all that I am and I made a promise. Yes, I know, cliche’ but hey… in my experience, when you feel like you are dying…you do one of three things. You surrender, you fight, or you bargain…sometimes all three. In this particular NDE (I’ve had multiple in my 37 years thus far) I bargained. More so I dedicated, with every fiber of my being.
“God, Universe, Buddha, whoever is out there…(except the Debble…not today Satan)…I don’t know how, I dont know a damn thing right now honestly, other than the one thing I do know is that if…if you could grant me this chance. I will surrender. I’ll listen. I’ll do whatever it is that you call me to do. Anything. (Except porn) Yes I said that because hey, ya never know Just let me live…for them…for me…for you…for them God, Please.”
It was around 10 am EST that my long time dear friend Kelly was due to pick me up and take me to a Dr appt for another issue I was having. When she rang the doorbell, Eva opened the curtain on the door and told her that I wouldn’t wake up. Kelly then asked if Eva if she remembered her and when it was said that she did, Eva then let her in and showed her to where I was. Kelly was able to wake me but I wasn’t making much sense. She asked if I wanted her to call 911 and I shook my head yes. When they arrived they asked if I could stand, to which I could not so they lifted me up on to the stretcher and carried me out. As they put me in the back of the ambulance, I saw Eva and Kelly standing by her car as they closed the doors. I was terrified of what this moment meant, but I was alive. The paramedics tried to ask questions but it didn’t go well and they could tell it was making my symptoms worse so they told me to relax and we would be at the hospital soon.
So I prayed. “God, Buddha, whoever is listening… Thank you. I know now what I must do.” I didn’t know if I was paralyzed, or what life was going to be like from this point on… all I knew was that life…was never going to be the same. That day, was my day of reckoning.
The ER that they took me to didn’t have the resources to help and I had stabilized. I was even able to talk a bit. Sometimes making sense, other times not. I did ask Kelly to call another long time friend, Edward. He and I had only recently reconnected after a decade of little communication and the reason why I had her call him, I will explain in another post sometime. So she did, and he agreed to meet us at my duplex as soon as he finished work. Kelly, Eva and I arrived and Edward was there waiting. He never left my side after that day.
Then came 40 doctor appointments in 90 days. X-rays, MRI’s, blood work, urinalysis, physical therapy…the works. It was at my Physical Therapy intake appointment that it was noted…Possible MS. I could not walk without support. I was constantly shaking and unstable with limbs that just didn’t seem to know what the hell to do. I struggled to breathe and my breathing was shallow and intermittent at best. I had been put on a liquid diet because I wasn’t able to keep much down and was struggling to swallow. Speech was a mess. If I could get the words out, they often didn’t make sense. Time was all over the place and recognition was spastic. I would be sitting at the kitchen table trying to have a conversation when my reality would shift and I would be having a completely different conversation and so on. Edward, bless him, often would be the anchor. He would carry on as if nothing had changed and then when I snapped out of it..simply say “There you are…” Reassuring me that I would always find my way back, somehow.
The note of possible MS from the physical therapist intake granted me an emergent referral to a neurologist. Funny thing is…when I returned to physical therapy at a later date and asked to speak with the man…an older, Russian, sports therapist… I was told that he was only there for that one day. The day that he saw me, as a fill in because they were short staffed. An angel among us, certainly. On December 21st, 2021…exactly one month after that fateful night, we saw the neurologist. She did a series of functional tests and took an extensive history of my life and medical experiences, and about a 20 second glance at my scans. “You definitely do not have MS. Where as I understand why they would think so, given your symptoms, that’s simply just not the case here. That being said, what you do have is called Functional Neurologic disorder with mixed symptoms as well as Extreme Autonomic Systems Dysfuntion. What that means is that there isn’t anything wrong with the structure of your brain, the hardware. There is a serious issue with the mechanics of your brain , the communication, the software. Essentially, you’re brain is not communicating to itself or your body correctly, and at times, not at all Thats why you lose consciousness and seize. It’s your brains way of powering off and on again in hopes of regaining homeostasis and reestablishing the connections.” I’m not a computer person but I kind of understood what she was saying…she went on to explain that even the acts of breathing, blinking, and pumping blood do not work properly…In a body that is designed to work completely autonomously… I was and would be…driving in manual. My body couldn’t be trusted to do what it needed to do and the journey with this condition is just as erratic as the condition itself. When I asked her what to do, where to go, etcetera…she said there was nothing she could do for me. As the condition is still in it’s infancy of understanding, the best she could do was give me a list of websites and wish me the best.
Great. Just fucking great. I was happy to have answers. But seriously? A rare neurological condition that no one knows shit about…I prayed. “God, Buddha, whoever is listening…what in the actual fuck? This is the calling then huh? This is what you have sent me here to do…to navigate, journey, and heal through this. Okay. Okay… is this one of those you only give the worst battles to the strongest soldiers kind of shit because damn…this is heavy. But okay… let’s do this. I mean what else am I gonna do at this point…surrender and suffer? Nope. You know me better than that.”
As soon as I ended the prayer, I heard… “Be still, and know.”
So there I was…35 years old, mom of two, at one of the heights of my professional tattooing career and gallery artist…and everything I thought life was…just got a whole lot different. At first, and for quite some time…for the worst…yet…simultaneously, becoming the best it had ever been. So one day at a time, one breath at a time, one step at time, one moment…at…a…time, I began the journey of healing and living.
One day whilst scrolling Instagram I came across this beautiful woman from Brazil with a radiant smile…offering a creative exchange program with her company Science and Shamanism. She is a Neurologist with expertise in Functional Disorders. As it turns out she and her partner, a Master Shaman from Brazil as well, had founded a healing modality for FND (Functional Neurologic Disorder) and were looking for people to take their courses. In exchange, I would create illustrations for their upcoming books. Yes. Please! The program is called the Holocene Method and they combine ancient Shamanic Practice with Science backed research and evidence to guide one to integrating their four bodies and promoting healing from within.
Being a generational Shaman myself (although due to life’s twists and turns, it had laid dormant for years) this was the exact key I was seeking to begin. Their wisdom and practices gave me ground to stand upon, hope for recovery, and a whole new lens to view life through. The lens of personal empowerment, self love and radical acceptance. It was during my journey with them that my personal power turned back on, my Spirituality deepened, and own Shamanic gifts returned. Full force at times I might add. The Shamanic initiation process is not for the faint of heart, but more on that in later posts. With my power turned on and the clarity it brought…I was reminded that life…truly is…what you make of it. One can either succumb to the circumstances and dwell in the darkness, or accept the challenge and through inner strength and Divine will…rise up. Still I Rise by Maya Angelo comes to mind.
A few months later I discovered the Southwest Institute of Healing Arts (SWIHA) based out of Arizona. This is a college for the Healing Arts, offering an array of studies that offer holistic methods of healing, and…they have and online program! It’s accredited and they even take financial aid. WIN! With modern medicine having little no aid, resource or help to navigate this condition…as well as living in rural Northern Indiana where health care is primitive, and my health still hijacking my life at whim…I remember receiving the insight “Where there is lack…creates purpose.” If they can’t heal me…then I will! “Don’t believe me just watch” by Bruno Mars was an Anthem at times. That…is when I decided to jump in and earn a degree as an Integrative Healing Arts Practitioner. The real work began the day courses started in April of 2022. Still very much in the throes of FND, it was challenge. A fucking challenge. Some days all I could do was focus on breathing…because if I didn’t… I wouldn’t…breathe. Until a gasp would occur. But I did it…and I am damn glad that I did. In September of 2022, I completed my Spiritual studies and was ordained into the Universal Brotherhood Movement as a Reverend. A title and path in life, I honestly never saw myself taking and it has provided me with such resounding strength, knowing, compassion and acceptance that it is an honor to be able to serve other on their own Divine path.
Two years later, upon graduation, I am able to walk unassisted (mostly), breathe without having to think about it non stop (mostly), eat full meals, and live…not just survive. I am still deemed nursing facility level of care due to the extensive and erratic nature of the condition but I am able to live at home with my children, and Edward being my caregiver. During my studies, Haus of Healings; A Healing Arts Collective came to fruition. A dream that I had whilst stranded on the streets of Inglewood LA in 2018. While roaming the avenues, my dad came through and said “Kid, ya gotta get home. Whatever you do, make sure that happens.” It wasn’t until years later, while at SWIHA, that I understood what he really meant…return home…home to self. The original home. The Sacred home. Haus is the Germanic word for house…home. I chose Haus for a few reasons…One being that is a variation of the the word HUIS in which my nomadic ancestors spoke, two being that it means house/home, and third being a tip of the hat to Stefani Germanotta and her incredible work with the Born This Way Foundation as well as being an advocate for all of humankind.
Healing, just as life…is a journey. A life long journey. It is challenging, it is awe striking, it is exhausting, and it…is…worth it. There is so much to share and yet still, so much to learn. I for one, am stoked to see all that this can be. A collective of like hearted humans who want nothing but the best for all of humanity. To heal. To live. To love. To be.
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