Anishnawbe
I had the surgery in April 2023. By July, I had lost a considerable amount of weight. I have always been up and down a few pounds but this was the most drastic weight loss I had ever experienced, and I was 52. I started packing it back on slowly in September, no doubt the Gabapentin played a huge role.
January 2024, nine months post-surgery, was when the most damage was done to my body compared to any other time of going up and down. My skin— I wasn’t 30 years old anymore. It didn’t bounce back like it used to. My arms were flapping, my stomach was sagging, and I was fucking sad and mad.
I’ve always been in the gym off and on. When I wasn’t in the gym, I would do push-ups, calisthenics, or free weights at home to keep my fitness up and my body in check. My upper body had always been fit, even when it was thick.
I made it to cardiac rehab only a few times during those six weeks. I wasn't there consistently because my stomach was acting up. Six weeks later—that’s how long it took to start feeling better. I had lost a significant amount of weight, but I wasn’t looking great! I was feeling better physically, the stomach issues had subsided. I was now concerned about my saggy skin and whether it would go back—specifically my arms. I had never had that shit before!
I remember being up Faith’s ass! Faith was there for me through my whole identity crisis. I mean, all the girls at cardiac rehab were, but Faith was my rock! She watched me transition for 9 months, she saw me. She’s a kinesiologist, I was always hogging her, asking, "What’s going on here? Is this gonna go back? What exercises can I do to make this go back?" I explained to her my past experience with the gym and how my body was. She put me on, and I was on it—full effort!
I was concerned with bulking, but honestly, at that point, I didn’t care! I said to myself, "I’d rather look like Popeye before looking like Phyllis Diller!" I started going to cardiac rehab regularly, and I started putting in the work to make a difference. I wasn’t just sitting there rolling the arm machine—I was picking up free weights and working those suckers.
Cynthia had put me on a Sunrise Ceremony. From the day we met, I started smudging and praying every day. The Sunrise Ceremony consisted of waking up before or as the sun came up, performing the ceremony, and not going back to sleep until the sun was down. Every single day for a full year! The only exceptions were if it was your moon time or if you were sick. We were supposed to reconvene in a month.
Well, I was sick from January until April. I lasted 5–7 days and gave up. It was too much with all the health issues I had going on. When I felt nauseous and my stomach was fucked up, I tried to sleep until it passed.
A month later, I received a call from Melanie, a Traditional Counsellor from Anishnawbe. I had reached out to them in September, seeking Traditional Health and Wellness Healing after my amazing experience with the psychiatrist assigned to me following my breakdown that night in the hospital.
Melanie introduced herself, and right away, I told her that I was seeing someone at Women’s College Hospital. Her reply was, “Well, that’s OK, you can do both if you want. It’s up to you.” I was all in!
I never did hear back from Cynthia. Melanie and I got right into it—the past, the present, and the future—right there over the phone. I was crying my face off. I could just see her hair blowing from the wind of my voice coming through the phone. It was a lot, and it all came out!
We had a connection right away! Her voice was compassionate and soothing, and I opened up to her like a bag of chips! We talked for over an hour and then set an appointment to meet in person. I went to Anishnawbe—they were on Gerrard at the time—and the receptionist, Shelly, looked and sounded very familiar—her voice, her tone. I had déjà vu—it was like I had been there before, and I think at one point in my teens, I was. I checked in, sat down, and waited for Melanie.
Melanie came down the stairs from the second floor to greet me. To my surprise, she was blind. We walked back up the stairs and into her office. The fact that she was blind had me tingling. It made me feel even more seen, if that makes any sense. I wasn’t going to be judged by my physical appearance, like I have been my entire life!
I opened up by explaining that I only had 11% Native American DNA, and that was all I knew. I had no clue about my clan, where I came from, or anything else to offer about my heritage.
I had reached out to my mother way back when I got my DNA results, questioning the 11% being Native American. She was appalled and wrote me 500 words about Irish history and how I should only concern myself with being Irish.
I didn’t obtain my DNA results through the mail or any website; I wasn’t looking for distant relatives to start popping up. All I wanted was to know myself. Father from Nova Scotia, mother from Newfoundland—a lot of boats came through those ports, and I became curious. I went to a DNA lab—Accu-Metrics on Kingston Rd. There was something about putting my DNA in the mail that didn’t sit right with me.
Melanie didn’t care that I didn’t have that information. The fact that I had ANY was good enough for her! Her words were, “We are a dying breed, so even if someone is only 1%, we want them.” Personally, I don’t feel that a person who is spiritual should have to be Indigenous at all to receive Traditional Healing. We’re all human beings, and we’re all entitled to nature and herbs, just as we are to air!
I sought out Traditional Healing because:
I’ve always been spiritual.
I had an awful experience with a licensed psychiatrist.
I had a very spiritual experience that night in the hospital.
I was meant to go this route.
