Family Sin: How Reiki Helped Heal My Life

By Mikayla M. Sabella

Family Sin is the story of how one woman escaped a brutal past littered with childhood trauma and debilitating addictions. It spotlights her courage and insight and shows how she developed an understanding that helped her reconcile powerful negative emotions and break free of the chains that bound her to despicable family secrets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Feb 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9781504398138

Mikayla M. Sabella

M.M. Sabella is an R.N., L.M.T., Certified Clinical Hypnotherapist & Reiki Master Teacher. While helping others heal from traumatic childhoods, she was inspired to share her own healing Journey with the rest of the world. She hopes in reading her story others with similar abuse issues will be inspired to heal and move forward on their individual Journeys.

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Family SIN

HOW REIKI HELPED HEAL MY LIFE

MIKAYLA M. SABELLA

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Copyright © 2018 Mikayla M. Sabella.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

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Bloomington, IN 47403

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-5043-9811-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-9812-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-9813-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018901982

Balboa Press rev. date: 02/22/2018

Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

1 ~ GROWING PAINS ~

2 ~ Children of the Sixties & Family History ~

3 ~ Feelings & Boundaries & Rules ~ Oh, My! ~

4 ~ Uncle Danny, Psychic Dreams & Background News ~

5 ~ First Memories & Ties that Bind ~

6 ~ Flirting with Suicide, Addictions & Future Plans ~

7 ~ My Connection to the Divine & Other Esoteric Tidbits ~

8 ~ This is Why They Call it ‘High’ School ~

9 ~ The Day the Music Died ~

10 ~ Miami’s Greyhound Station & the Navy (Almost!) ~

11 ~ Marriage, the Military & Babies ~

12 ~ Dysfunction, Chaos & Small Miracles ~

13 ~ Living on a Prayer & the Philosophy of Reincarnation ~

14 ~ The Bus Ride That Changed My Life ~

15 ~ My Drunken Life & A Little Hope ~

16 ~ Soul Mates & Life Decisions ~

17 ~ Recovery, the Convent & Reiki ~

18 ~ Guides, Angels & New Connections ~

19 ~ Dreams, Visions & Other Lives ~

20 ~ Child Custody Hearings & Past-Life Dreams ~

21 ~ Second Chances & Divine Interventions ~

22 ~ The Scars of Sobriety & Unhealthy Distractions ~

23 ~ Inner Work, Healing & Forgiveness ~

24 ~ Peeling Onions & Reiki Energy ~

25 ~ Spiritual Shifts & New Attitudes ~

RESOURCES

For Nicholas, Oliver, Cadence, Molly, Teagan & Quinn

May your Spirits always remain Loving, Joyous and Free!

Acknowledgments

I wish to thank both of my beautiful, adult children, whose Souls for reasons unbeknownst to me chose me to be their mother in this Lifetime. You have both taught me so much about myself and you’ve helped me more than you will ever know during both the dark & Light transitions of my Soul. I am truly Honored and Grateful and thank you both from the bottom of my Heart! My Love for each of you is unique, crystalline, pure and true; and this Love transcends Time itself. You both remain the Brightest and Shiniest of Gems in my Circle of Life! ♥

I wish also to thank my Mom and each of my siblings who supported me to the best of their abilities in telling my story. There are a few friends I wish to thank, as well, who have been by my side for many years ~ some since we were children. You ladies have loved me through all my changes, shifts and turbulences: You make my Life bearable, lighter, and so much fun. In Loving Memory of one of my most precious Soul Mates, my friend Christopher Gross ~ I know you’re still around and supporting me as always.

Lastly, but most certainly not least, I wish to thank one of my most significant Soul Mates in Life, Linda, whom I’ve shared many Lifetimes with and with whom I currently share this Lifetime. ♥ We were meant to meet again on this Journey. I have no doubt about that.

I dedicate my story to the MILLIONS of survivors of incest, childhood sexual abuse, verbal, emotional, and/or physical abuse and neglect; and to all survivors of any other crime that has been perpetrated against innocents globally. I include you, dear Reader, and anyone who has ever had any type of violence perpetrated on their Body, Soul, Heart, or Psyche.

My sincere wish, hope, and prayer is that each and every one of you will come to know and believe that there is always Hope that your Life can be filled with Peace, Joy, and Love.

There is Light at the end of every long, dark tunnel …

I come from a place of Love. I come from a place of Understanding. I come from a world of Experience.

***

Who are you to judge me or my choices in Life? You’ve never walked in my shoes. If you had, you would have developed compassion, love, understanding, and most importantly, forgiveness for any perceived hurt someone caused you ~MMS ♥

The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong ~ Mahatma Gandhi

SPECIAL NOTE TO MY READERS: At times, I capitalize words that are not usually capitalized in the English language. ‘Life’ is one such word. You will encounter the word ‘Life’ capitalized throughout my story. This is because I see the term ‘Life’ as something sacred and special ~ something that needs to be held precious & honored in the highest regard. Thank you for understanding.

Prologue

I awakened from the nightmare bathed in perspiration, my nightgown adhering to my body like a second skin; my hair matted and snarled. I remained on my back, staring up at the ceiling where shards of light chased each other from the reflections of the sun on the pool water outside my bedroom window. I was toying with the idea of ignoring my Intuition, as I’d done for the past six months. That’s how long it had been since I’d been haunted by this same nightmare of me having a sudden and fatal heart attack.

It wasn’t that I wanted to ignore the subtle signs of an impending cardiac issue, but I was relatively young and in fairly good health, albeit overweight. I worked out on the elliptical for 45 minutes at least three times a week. I’d been riding my newly purchased Cannondale hybrid bicycle at least twice a week for 12-15 miles. I swam laps in the pool as often as possible. In addition, I walked on the beach frequently. Hands down, I was moving around more than ever. I certainly wasn’t what anyone would consider sedentary, although I didn’t go out of my way to exercise vigorously. I was choosing healthier options in the food department lately, too. Recently, I’d dropped another 10 pounds in a weight loss pool at the hospital where I was employed. So, why was I having this same nightmare consistently for the past six months?

It’s true that I’d not been feeling quite right lately, even though I couldn’t put a finger on exactly what that meant. I’d been experiencing what I described to my colleagues and primary physician as these weird, tiny little ‘pin-prick pains’ in both sides of my chest wall, although they came and went very quickly. No one I spoke with about them appeared concerned. I hadn’t had any crushing chest pain or shortness of breath or dizzy spells. And all of my cardiac work-up tests ~ the ECHO Doppler, electrocardiograms, cardiac stress tests and blood tests were negative for cardiac issues. My cardiologist had gone over the results of all the tests with me. The only regular and persistent sign I was experiencing on practically a nightly basis was the nightmare about having a fatal heart attack. Naturally, a medical professional won’t base a diagnosis on dreams.

A few months before, my primary care physician had repeated the cardiac workup tests because I’d insisted on it. He’d discussed extensively with me data and research that showed working night shift was not conducive to the health of people who had my condition, something called ‘metabolic syndrome’. He wanted me to request a shift change simply because working night shift messed with anyone’s circadian rhythms, but particularly those who had metabolic syndrome. He said that people with the condition who worked night shift were more susceptible to heart attacks, strokes and/or diabetes mellitus.

I’d worked night shift for many years as a nursing assistant years ago, but that was when I was much younger and healthier. I really enjoyed night shift, particularly because it was quieter and less hectic than day shift. I’d only been on this new job not quite a year, so I didn’t even bother asking the clinical nurse manager about a day position. I knew there weren’t any open day positions on my unit, thus I continued working night shift despite the research. It was only a matter of time until I could apply for other nursing jobs in the area. I was committed to this hospital for three years, because I’d received a six thousand dollar sign on bonus and signed a contract to work at least 3 years. Therefore, I was resigned to completing my contract.

My mother-in-law, Catherine, had been living with us for a few years because she was getting on in age and had health conditions that warranted her being monitored closely. Both my spouse and I are registered nurses, and we felt it best that Catherine stay with us, where she’d be provided healthy meals and high quality care. She’d fallen a couple of times living by herself and naturally we were concerned for her safety.

Catherine was the epitome of an enlightened person and she didn’t even realize it. She was born in Brooklyn in 1930, the daughter of two Italian parents, whose ancestors had migrated to New York from Italy. She was the first daughter and second child in her family. Catherine was a classic beauty, who’d won a beauty contest as a very young child. She had platinum blonde, curly hair and bright yellow-green eyes that sparkled with laughter, kindness and playfulness. She loved people without condition and never uttered a negative word about or to anyone. Many of her relatives used to joke that she would forgive the devil himself and proceed to invite him in for coffee and cake to boot.

Catherine had a natural inclination to meet everyone exactly where they were and without judgment. She never failed to see goodness in all of humanity. Catherine was a rare gem, much like my own stepfather Don was. Many people are judgmental and negative by nature, but in the many years that I’d known Catherine, I never saw nor heard her being either of those things. She was an Angel of Light & Love. I used to tell her that I’d care for a hundred patients a day like her. That’s how special she was to me.

When I finally dragged myself out of bed that morning, Catherine was sitting in her usual place on the sofa watching the Game Show Network, her favorite channel after the classic movie channels. She knew facts about old movie stars that I’d never heard before, and therefore was a challenging opponent in games like Trivial Pursuit. That morning, she greeted me with her usual bright, cheerful smile and musical words: Good morning!

Morning, Ma I responded, sauntering into the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee with our new Keurig machine. I poured a bit of cream into my cup and brought the steaming cup of liquid gold back into the living room, where I plopped into the recliner by the sofa. I always joked around with my colleagues that I was going to invent a machine that continuously infused caffeine into my veins. Wow, I’d be an instant millionaire with an invention like that!

I glanced over at Catherine, who was watching me as I reclined back into the chair. I paused a moment, and then announced: I think I’m going to the emergency room today.

Catherine’s eyes widened slightly, a look of concern on her face. For what? she inquired, picking up her own cup of black coffee and taking a noisy swallow.

Well … I began, hesitating to find the right words so as not to alarm her. I’ve been having these dreams …

I told her the story, including reiterating the fact that my biological father had died quite young of a heart attack. I let her know that I wasn’t having any chest pain or any other physical symptoms, but I sensed strongly that something just wasn’t right. My doctor had told me he could not prescribe the definitive diagnostic test ~ a cardiac catheterization ~ unless I had chest pain or other physical symptoms. He said my insurance wouldn’t cover the catheterization based solely on my dreams. We’d laughed about that in his office a few weeks previously.

But today, I wasn’t laughing. Something inside of me was urging me to have a cardiac catheterization, and I wasn’t ignoring it any longer. Better to be safe than sorry, whispered the little cliché counter inside my head. I finished my coffee, showered, dressed, and kissed Catherine goodbye.

Good luck! she called after me, as the door swung closed behind me.

As I drove to the hospital, I accessed my acting skills from my old community theatre days and began to work myself up into an anxious frenzy, complete with tears. I’d have to tell them that I was having chest pains in order to be admitted to the hospital for overnight observation. The chest pains would be reason enough for my insurance to cover a cardiac catheterization.

I reached into my handbag, pulled out a brand new pack of Marlboro Lights and proceeded to tear the cellophane wrapping off the box. Absentmindedly, I lit one and inhaled deeply. Abruptly, I realized what I was doing and admonished myself: "What am I doing? I’m heading to the ED because I’m having chest pain!" Even though the chest pain was fabricated, I couldn’t imagine walking into the emergency department complaining of chest pain and smelling of a smoke stack.

Instantaneously, I threw the lit cigarette out the open window in disgust. Then, without thinking about it, I picked up the entire box of cigarettes and tossed that out the window, too. Some smoker will be happy to find a full pack, I thought absentmindedly. I justified the act of littering. I didn’t consider the fact that I was contributing to the decay of Mother Earth.

I’m done! I announced out loud to no one in particular, as my car sped along Golf Road towards Bayridge Hospital. After years of being addicted to nicotine, I was releasing one of my final addictions. I’d quit many times before, like both times I was pregnant and nursing. But I’d also attempted to quit smoking for my health at least ten times in the last few years without success.

Disgusting addiction! I spat to myself.

Then I began to cry. Deep down, it felt as though I was letting go of a good friend, once and for all. Nicotine had been with me for many years, comforting me when I’d been in my darkest hours and making me feel ‘confident’ when I’d been surrounded with what appeared to be hostile people. I’d used nicotine for comfort, courage and relief of sadness throughout my crazy adolescence and young adulthood. It had always been there for me without fail.

I’d miss my tried and true friend. But I knew it was a necessary step in my continued recovery process. The time had finally come to let go of my addiction to nicotine. It had brought me thus far on my healing journey, but in the coming months I was going to realize that it had not only been an unhealthy friend to cling to; it had literally been hindering my emotional and spiritual growth. We simply don’t know what we don’t know.

By the time I arrived at the emergency department of Bayridge Hospital, I was crying and carrying on like a mad woman. It wasn’t just the sadness of losing my friend, Nicotine. I was scared beyond belief at what might be discovered about my heart health.

I’m having chest pain, I breathed to the receptionist, tears rolling down my cheeks. Please help me!

I was rushed into a little room, hooked up to an EKG monitor and asked the same questions over and over, by different people coming in and out of the room.

Where is the pain? What does it feel like? How long have you been having these sensations? Is it crushing, aching, burning? What were you doing when you first noticed the pain? Are you having trouble breathing? Are you dizzy?

Eventually, they called my primary care provider who ordered me to be admitted for observation. The emergency room doctor informed me that my doctor would be coming in to see me after his office hours that evening. When Dr. Stainko finally did come in, he explained that he would schedule me for a cardiac catheterization in the morning. He didn’t want me to worry. It was a definitive test and it would give us answers that the other cardiac tests had not.

My youngest sister is the educator in the catheterization lab at a large facility in Southern Maine, known for its quality cardiac care. She boasts that its cath lab and cardiac unit is in the Top Ten in the country, and that its cardiac surgeons are exemplary. I called her to let her know that I was going to have a catheterization in the morning. My sister suggested that I ask for a radial access rather than a groin access. She said they were using radial access more because it eliminated a patient having to lie flat for 6 hours following the procedure.

After discussing things with my sister, I was a little less freaked out about the impending procedure. I’d had visions of my heart stopping on the cath lab table during the procedure. I really didn’t know what to expect. I wasn’t a critical care nurse at that time, I was a medical surgical nurse.

At least you’ll know where you’re at, cardiac wise. Better to know than not.

Her logic was always welcomed.

I was here and I may as well follow through with it. After all, those dreams did not seem to be easing up. In fact, it seemed I’d been dreaming about the heart attack more and more urgently lately. I called the clinical nurse manager at my job to let her know I’d be out of work for a few days pending this test.

The next morning, I was prepped and wheeled down to the cath lab for the procedure. My mouth was the Sahara desert. I could feel my rapid pulse pounding in my head. The cath lab techs and nurses were wonderful. They prepared me for the procedure and explained every thing to me as they did. I lay on that cold, hard metal table in that too brightly lit, frigid room trying to still my angst. They scrubbed my right wrist in preparation for the procedure. A probe would be inserted into my right radial artery and threaded up into my cardiac arteries. If my coronary arteries had any blockages, the cardiologist who was performing the diagnostic would note the areas that were occluding blood flow to my heart muscle.

One of the nurses administered something into my IV that was supposed to relax me. She told me I’d remain awake for the entire procedure. The doctor threaded the guide wire into my radial artery without incident. The medicine the nurse had given me was causing my muscles to involuntarily twitch and jerk. I tried to calm my limbs and keep them still, but I must have been having a reaction to the Versed. It seemed I had no control of the jerky muscle movements.

The doctor asked, out of the blue: Do you smoke?

I quit. I said. It wasn’t a lie, after all.

Good.

A few moments later, (but what seemed to me to be hours!) he said nonchalantly:

Yes, you have a few blockages here, young lady. He was pointing out the blockages on the black and white screen. It was strange to see my heart pumping methodically with that wire threaded into the arteries as he pointed out the blockages to me, one by one.

My heart sank. A few? I hadn’t wanted any blockages. I’d wanted him to say: Nope, you’re clear and good to go! But that wasn’t what he said. He informed me I had four blockages that would require surgical repair. He told me that because I was young and had metabolic syndrome, it would be best to do cardiac artery bypass grafts (CABG) rather than placing stents. The term CABG sounded strange to me. When he said it, he said ‘cabbage’ like they’d be performing on a vegetable.

He informed me that stents were a great option for older patients, but people as young as I was would be better off having the ‘cabbage’. The results of the cabbage would last much longer than stents would. He explained