When I was 31 years old, my life changed forever. On May 21st, 2010, while a friend was driving me back from my new fancy job at The Ritz-Carlton, we saw headlights racing toward us at a high speed, facing us head-on. A young, highly intoxicated man had driven up an exit ramp and was proceeding to careen down the interstate the wrong way. He shaved off the passenger side of our car with his, taking my right arm in the process, and leaving me trapped in a crumpled heap of broken glass and twisted metal. It took the first responders 45 minutes to saw the roof off the car and pry me out, breaking my leg to release it from under the dashboard. Just about evrything on the right side of my body was broken, but my spirit never was. Every doctor and surgeon, paramedic and fireman who worked so valiantly and quickly to save my life were in disbelief that I survived. I quite literally should not be here, according to them. Every time one of them walked into my hospital room they called me a miracle. But what they thought was even more unblievable than that, was the way I handled the loss of my entire right arm. It was true, I hardly mourned the loss of my limb for a second, but that’s because I was happy just to be alive. The moment I heard the paramedic inform the other responders that my “hand” had been severed, I chose to accept it right in that moment and concentrate on staying awake until they got me out of that car. I am a fighter, this I have always known. But I never knew the true depth of strength and tenacity I posessed until I was faced with the most difficult physical challenge of my life: relearning everything with only the use of my one, non-dominant arm.
On February 13, 2011 I married my partner of 8 years in a beautiful celebration I had spent every hour of my recovery meticulously planning, designing and curating. Guests told me it was the most amazing, touching and detailed wedding they had ever attended. My bridemaids nursed hot glue burns and picked glitter out of their hair for days afterwards (love you, lades.) Six months later I conceived our son, and on May 18, 2012 Orion Cannon was born. He was my little star baby, and I felt like the universe had given me the gift of bringing forth life when I had so nearly lost my own. We named him after the constellation of the great hunter in order to bless him with strength. We were right to do so.
On May 6, 2016, after a series of near breakdowns over my career path, and having struggled to feel like I would ever be happy or satisfied, I left my marriage. I did it coldly and quickly, and I sabotaged it with infidelity. I was determined to stand my ground and reclaim my independence, find my true self and figure out what was wrong with me. I had not been capable of leaving a single relationship in my life without being unfaithful. Commitment seemed beyond my scope and impossible for me to master. I was incapable of expressing my relationship needs, had no clue how to set and keep healthy boundaries, and did not know what my love language even was. I made a conscious choice to tear my family apart, and as much as I felt deep guilt and grief over this, I knew I could never go back.
On June 29, 2016 the unthinkable happened. Our son, who began complaining of pain shortly after I decided to dissolve my marriage to his father, was diagnosed with Stage 4 Neuroblastoma, a very aggressive and difficult to treat form of childhood cancer. My world officially crumbled under my feet. I knew in that instant that I couldn’t pursue a relationship with my affair, a man I thought I was desperately in love with, and that my baby might not live to see his 5th birthday. He had just turned 4. My despair hurled me down a deep, dark hole that felt endless and hopeless. I woke up in the middle of the hospital room that night seeing shadows everywhere, praying to everyone I had known that died to please help me and save my baby. I went from no faith, no spiritual practice or identity, and a disgusted disregard towards all religions, to a desperate, lost soul begging for answers. I knew everything in my life had to change, starting with the way I viewed life to be. My affair and my son’s cancer journey were the catalyst for a spiritual awakening so profound and life-shifting, I am nowhere near the person I was back then. I had always been fascinated by tarot, the occult, metaphysics and all manner of esoteric things, but I chose to remain spiritually closeted out of fear of judgment and ridicule. The tarot deck I had hidden away in a drawer called to me louder than ever before, and I threw myself into dedicated practice until reading tarot became as natural for me as breathing air. Today my son is 8. He is healthy. He is adorably freckled, smart, hilarious, affectionate and kind. I thank my guides, the universe and Spirit for allowing us to keep him here after an arduous 4 year battle. I thank my ancestors for watching over all of us, and my higher self for answering the call to change my life and level up. I want to help others do the same.
Thank you for listening.