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Working through the sh*t in order to ride the shift!

I could feel it coming...

It was a feeling of being on edge; of anticipation without knowing what I was anticipating.

And the Universe confirmed it. Over and over and over again, 555. Everywhere I looked - the clock. License plates. Receipts. Phone numbers… 555.

Big shifts were coming. Not the take-a-wee -step-forward kind of shift. No, not this time. This was going to be B-I-G, quantum leaps forward.

How did I know? Because the feeling had been with me for months. The confirmation in the form of signs and symbols from the Universe - for months now.

So, in a small way, I was prepared. At least I knew ‘something’ was coming. And let’s get real: big, momentus shifts often come in challenge form, and can be life-changing.

And, I was prepared in the foreknowledge that I wasn’t alone in this…whatever ‘this’ turned out to be. I knew I had my Divine Team with me, always.

I was already well into the shift before I recognized it. Recognition coming in the form of tight muscles, exhaustion, feeling overwhelmed, anxiety, headaches, lack of patience, miscommunication…

It started as a mislabelled pile of sh*t.

That’s all I saw it as. Challenges coming in from various close relationships. Challenges coming in from expectations of others, and Self. Challenging, outdated patterns and behaviours that no longer serve me. Situations arising to challenge my sense of peace and security.

In one particular occurrence, an opportunity to rewrite my story. And all of it, every aspect, every emotion, every thought – my chance to make a shift.

Last week, I marked the 20th anniversary of one of my Big Life Moments.

On January 20, 2001 (01/20/2001) – just three weeks after my eldest son was born - I underwent the first of two, back-to-back brain surgeries.

The surgeries were meant to correct a facial nerve disorder that causes excruciating pain.

When I say excruciating, I mean – it has the unfortunate nickname of the ‘Suicide Disease’. The worst pain known to medical science. Seriously. Google it.

The first procedure (microvascular decompression, or MVD) granted me three days pain free. The second, performed a week later, lasted 11 months.

That second surgery also left me with severe vertigo and difficulty speaking. I couldn’t walk six feet across a room; my husband had to carry me any where I needed to go those first few weeks. Had to bathe me. Had to do all of the housework, cooking, driving and doctor’s appointments (all while caring for an infant child, and that child’s biological, teenaged birth mother).

I couldn’t read so much as a sentence on a page without the words swimming in front of my eyes, blurry. Words I could make out didn’t make sense.

I found out more than a dozen years later that I'd had a stroke during that second surgery.

And I was MAD. Furious, really. To think of the support, therapy and care I would have gotten if I’d been diagnosed immediately with the stroke, instead of waiting over a decade for that to come to light.

I had to breathe through that anger. Accept my circumstances as part of my journey, even if I didn’t understand it.

It took awhile, but I thought I’d done well. Thought I’d come past that hurt and anger.

And then, something happened to very clearly show me…I wasn’t done yet.

In the last couple of weeks, I’ve caught myself beating me up over the lingering side effects of the stroke.

I struggle to remember things – and it’s worse to consider I remember easy, unimportant things, but some big, important things slip by. So, I was beating myself up for my spotty, unpredictable memory.

I was beating myself up for the occasions I couldn’t find the right word, or used the wrong one. I was judging myself for the effects I had no control over, and finding fault. I beat myself up for ‘not doing better’, when I very clearly was doing the best I could.

When the realization of what I was doing dawned on me, I wondered ‘why’. Why now? Why was I thinking about this and why was I having to go through that acceptance battle all over again?

And then I saw it.

It was a Facebook post, and it was on the page of another psychic medium that lives up Island. Her name is Amber, and she’s a beautiful, talented young mom, wife, and servant to Spirit.

Amber’s husband was posting on her behalf. She had suffered a catastrophic stroke, and was being medi-vacced (flown) to the hospital.

Thankfully, they caught it soon, and a ‘stroke team’ was waiting for her arrival. They were able to treat her immediately and some of her symptoms subsided within hours. Her paralysis was releasing. She was remembering. She was talking.

Miracles were happening!

She still had a very long ways to go. Still does (and I’m posting her Go Fund Me page at the bottom of this. I hope you’ll donate, or at least, share). She is currently undergoing four hours of therapy every day.

Reading all this, sympathizing and empathizing with her daunting road ahead, I suddenly felt the anger rise. Even as part of me sat in awe of the Universe – I mean, what are the chances, right? – I still felt that anger burning deep within.

What’s this, I asked?

I allowed myself to explore the anger. To contemplate what was underlying it. I was pissed that she, not I, got diagnosed immediately. Got help immediately. Got therapy almost immediately (some angels working there, for sure).

She was getting all that I’d wished I had received.

Instead, after 21 days of scratching their heads (the thought process was that, during the surgery, the hair-like sensors in my ears that give us balance were likely injured), doctors basically told my husband they didn’t know what else to do with me, and he may as well take me home.

I didn’t get to see an ear, nose and throat specialist for more than seven months. By then, I could walk with the assistance of a cane. Still slurred when I spoke. Improving, but still decidedly impaired.

The specialist informed me that, because it had taken such a long time to see him, there was nothing he could do for me to help improve my situation – that he’d have had to see me within weeks, not months, to be able to make a difference.

I’d be walking with the use of a cane or walker the rest of my life, he predicted.

Of course, I’m a stubborn Norwegian and don’t take too well for people telling me what I supposedly can’t do, so I immediately set out to prove them wrong.

I spent months afterward practicing to walk and talk properly. Months of bouncing off walls and looking like a drunk. Months of over-enunciating words so I could get my mouth to work properly.

But, it worked. Slowly but surely, I got my balance back. I got my words back. I gained back the ability to read, and to write.

A year after that, and I was back working in government communications.

Over time, I developed other facial neuralgias and had other procedures done. Eventually, I had to leave work – the disorders, and the medications needed to manage them – were taking over my life.

After years of restricted activities and finding myself mostly in bed, in pain, I cut out all prescription drugs and shifted to FECO (full extract cannabis oil).

Again, I crawled my way back. Began to experience Life again, instead of being a spectator.

And along the way, I found my passion, and my purpose.

So, when I felt this anger well up in me AGAIN, I had to allow myself to take that dive again. To sit in those feelings and just allow them to rise, without judgement. I became the third party observer and tried to see the patterns and lessons in what I was feeling.

I allowed for the sadness, tears, and regret to surface. Allowed myself to think of all the ‘what ifs’. What if they’d diagnosed me immediately. What if I’d had good intervention, followed by therapeutic services and supports. What if, what if, what if…

And it occurred to me – not for the first time, but certainly with a deeper resonating understanding – I would not have learned how to walk, talk and become self-sufficient if I’d been told 20 years ago that I’d suffered a catastrophic stroke. My perception would have been that I was a victim to my circumstances, and it would have, without a doubt, held me back in my recovery.

I HAD to experience my life event exactly how it played out in order to find the strength within to overcome; to dig ever deeper into my determination and resolve to improve; to get to truly know, understand, and appreciate, my ability to overcome.

And then, the final piece fell into place toward the end of the week following a conversation with a soul sister: my experience - and that of every single other person in the world that had suffered a stroke prior to Amber's - contributed to the Universal Energy, the Cosmic Consciousness, the Knowledge of ALL, that enabled Amber to be immediately diagnosed, treated and make space for miracles in her life.

I was a necessary part of the learning curve that allowed for her experience to play out so differently from mine.

And with that realization, the peace came flowing back. The anger dissipated to a nothingness. The acceptance settled around me like an old friend.

I have found my lesson within the experience – and the dozens of little lessons that lesson contains!

I am sure that more will be revealed in the coming days and weeks, and I’m okay with that. I’m happy to continue on my healing journey.

Because that, too, flows into the Universal Energy and becomes part of the All. My growth, gratitude, understanding and acceptance are somewhere, somehow, helping another to find their way forward.

And that is what I’m here for. It’s what we’re all here for – to rise together. To help each other out by being willing to face our thoughts, feelings and fears in order to grow and heal, learn to go from shi*t to shift, and then show others how we did it.

I wasn’t in the pile of sh*t I thought I was just a few short days ago. I’m experiencing huge, groundbreaking shifts, and I’m excited to see how they play out in my life.

I offer prayers of gratitude for my journey, and I pray for Amber’s journey, too. I hope you’ll join me.

If you’re so inclined, I’d love if you could donate to help her family out:

Lookiing for a new perspective on your own story? Reach out. I'll

show you how I changed from shi*t, to shift, and you can, too!

Blessed be,

Lee <3

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1 Comment

Janet Sunburg
Janet Sunburg
Jan 25, 2022

Is it possible to message me a physical address to mail my contribution please. I don't do the electronic card thing. Thank you, Janet Sunburg.

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