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Showing posts from May, 2022
  When I started my spiritual awakening in March of 2017, my world shifted instantly. I left a session with a spiritual healer knowing that I was on this Earth to heal myself and to heal others. How I would do that was for me to discover. This healing all started with turning back towards the Divine and allowing myself to heal the traumas that clouded my perspective and kept me from seeing the world from a place of Love instead of survival. Last year I had a moment of clarity in which an idea for a spiritual business came to mind. I wrote down those ideas, and later a name came to me: Twelve Moons Studio. I bought the website domains, securing the foundation of this seed of an idea with no intention to do anything with it quite yet. Not long after I purchased those website domains, my mom got sick, and I spent four months taking care of her. That seed of an idea was planted deep within the dirt without any chance of sunlight. Or, so I thought. November came, and it brought a new path

The Boob Chronicles #4: The Final Chapter- Make Lemonade

  It better be the last FUCKING Chapter! Today is 3 weeks from my exchange surgery. 3 weeks since those horrible hard expanders with metal nipples came out. 3 weeks since the squishy girls went in. It's also 3 weeks of not lifting and learning to be taken care of again. 3 weeks of getting used to the increase in size that I questioned at first. 3 weeks of immense gratitude. 26 weeks from the mammogram that saved my life. 26 weeks from the first time I heard, "Mrs. Canny, I think you have DCIS". 26 weeks from the day I knew I had cancer. Exactly 1/2 a year of my life that has been centered around cancer. Exactly 1/2 a year that my family has worried about me. Exactly 1/2 a year of trying to turn lemons into lemonade!  

We are our Mother's Daughters

Ah, moms. You love em', you hate em', but no matter what you do, you eventually turn into them. I'm not saying this as a curse or death sentence. I am presenting this as a celebration. I lost my mom at the age of 25. She was 50, and the significance of me being exactly half her age does not elude me. My Beautiful Mom at age 25 She never met my husband, and she never met her grandson. I argued with the universe about what was fair and what I felt I deserved. Just so you know,  the universe never argues back. About four years ago, when my son was just a wee babe, strange occurrences kept happening. I began accidentally breaking every gift my mother had given me. They were all silly little things but full of magical memories. The toothbrush holder she made in pottery class, the glass sculpture she gave me when I graduated high school, planters, and jewelry all broke in my hands. I sat and sobbed over every shattered remnant. I cried ugly, dramatic, child tears. One time my son