A story of healing, timing, and Archangel Michael
The Discovery
For over sixteen years, I carried something inside me that did not belong to me alone.
It began in 2007, during a routine check-up – an unexpected moment of silence in an otherwise ordinary day. A large external fibroid had taken root in my womb. I had no symptoms, no pain. Just the presence of something that made itself known only through the eyes of a machine. For years, I did everything I could to live in harmony with it.
The Natural Path
I turned to the path of nature and spirit. I studied. I learned about the subtle causes, the hormonal dances, the deeper emotional threads that shape a woman’s body. I listened to the stories my cells were whispering, and I honored them with Indian and Romanian herbs, liver detox, vegetarian diet, and with yoga that helped me transmute energy rather than suppress it. I practiced sublimation daily, not just with breath and posture, but with intention. And for a long while, it worked.
The fibroid stayed quiet. No excessive bleeding. No pain. Just a silent witness, occasionally touched during massage, always present on every scan. But I knew, even then, that it was more than physical.
It was the embodiment of something unspoken.
The Inner Knowing
I had always known I would not have children. It was a choice I had made while still a teenager, if not even earlier on… Not out of fear, but from an inner clarity that arrived early in my life. Growing up in a family where motherhood often looked like sacrifice or strategy (unless it was purely accidental) – either for securing care in old age or distracting from broken love, I knew I wanted something else.
And yet, there was a deeper truth that took years to surface. The fibroid was not only about having my own children. It was about my mother. It was about the invisible thread that bound us so tightly, I could hardly tell where she ended and I began.
A Turning Point in 2023
For years, I tried to loosen that thread. To breathe freely. To be whole without carrying her pain inside me. And yet, I could not. Not until something shifted in 2023.
That year, I tried a new type of scan – a biomagnetic resonance scanner, said to be designed by inspiration from the angels from the eighth dimension. What surprised me most was not the scan itself, but what it did not show. For the first time, the fibroid did not register. Not because it had disappeared, but because its cause had.
Something in me had been released.
That realization opened a door. I no longer needed to fight or fix. I was ready to take the next step. Even intervention, which I had rejected for so long, now felt aligned.
Changing the Doctor
That same year, I also changed my doctor. Something in the previous dynamic felt misaligned – our conversations often focused more on language and formalities than on the deeper nuances of my condition. I realized I needed to be seen and heard beyond words.
The new doctor, Henrik, brought a different kind of presence – soft, empathetic, and grounded.
He listened to my story, not just with his ears, but with attention.
He saw something strange inside the fibroid and, though he was almost sure it was not cancer, he placed me on the fast-track line just to be safe. Suddenly, everything was on fast-forward.
One week later, I was in the hospital for tests and surgical consultation. The recommendation came quickly: hysterectomy.
But I said no.
It was not defiance, it was free choice. My body was not meant to be cut open and my uterus was not just “a useless muscle that I don’t need anymore”, unless there was no other way. And there was another way: embolization. A less invasive procedure, often with better outcomes. I had friends who had done it and healed beautifully. I trusted their stories. I trusted mine.
Divine Confirmation
Within a month, everything was set. Still, it felt surreal. I paused. I prayed. I asked the Archangels to guide me.
And that is when he appeared for the first time: Archangel Michael. Always there when things get tough. When life edges into sacred territory.
The intervention was scheduled for November 8th.
“That is the celebration day of Archangels Michael and Gabriel, according to our Orthodox Calendar,” my mother said, her voice full of wonder. “You are protected.”
And I knew.
The Intervention
The day arrived. My friend stayed with me at the hospital. I fasted lightly, aware of my blood sugar issues, but they delayed the procedure by hours. When they finally called me in, it was almost noon. I was growing weak.
They said the procedure would take an hour. It took three.
The room was cold. Machines surrounded me. A screen lit up with the beautiful map of my own insides. I watched in awe as contrast substance flowed through my body, revealing my inner world in silver lines. The radiologist – a Danish god-like figure, tall, calm, focused like a being from another realm – worked with full presence.
He moved with care, communicating every step on the way, inserting micro particles to block the blood supply to the fibroid. And I, lying still, intentionally entered a different kind of operation. I focused. I visualized. I whispered to the unseen umbilical cord between me and my mother, the one she had always spoken of, the one no distance had ever broken. I asked it to be released.
A Near-Collapse and a Moment of Grace
But my body was fading. Cold sweat, shaking, dizziness. I asked softly for sugar. Again and again. The nurses did not respond. They brought water. Sugar-free drinks. I felt myself slipping. My pulse dropped below 30. Red alarms flashed.
And then, finally, the radiologist looked at me directly.
“What do you need?” he asked calmly.
“Sugar,” I said.
He turned to the nurses and made it happen.
Sweetness returned to my bloodstream.
And so did I.
The Invisible Connection
Later, my mother told me she had felt it. At that exact hour, across countries and borders, she had grown dizzy and needed to sit. She prayed for me, knowing immediately something was going on during the intervention.
That was the moment, I believe, when the invisible cord was finally cut.
Not in bitterness. Not in rejection. But in freedom.
So we could both choose love, not be bound by the misinterpretation of it.
The Integration
The recovery was harder than I could have imagined. My body, not used to any chemicals for years, rejected the medications. Morphine did not numb the pain, it only made me dizzy and heavy. Painkillers caused more pain. It was the first time – and I hope the last – to ever experience this level of pain.
I understood the reference to hell-like pain. I could observe the thoughts forming around those resonances of sufferance. It was not scary – it just brought me an understanding I did not know I needed.
Fortunately, and synchronistically, during that period, the theory of the yoga course I was attending was about integrating pain in the present moment, beyond the mind – or better said, from the higher mind.
I could not eat much for about 2 weeks. My nutrient levels plummeted. I was seriously concerned seeing the light dimmed in my eyes… It took me five months to feel whole again.
A Healing Beyond the Body
But in that time, something deeper was healing. I was no longer carrying what was not mine. I was no longer leaking my life force into a bond that had outlived its contract. And my mom was a big support.
I am happy I dared to share this experience with her as it unfolded, despite seriously considering initially that I should not burden her with my own things – she had enough of her own.
But then again, this is what this was all about, after all.
The Final Sign
A year and a half later, I went in for a check-up. The fibroid had shrunk to half its size.
But the most surprising moment came when I saw doctor Henrik again. I did not recognize him – he looked different. It turned out, he was not the one who had seen me from the beginning. It had been an intern.
“What was his name?” I asked. “Mikkael,” he said. I smiled. And looked up with gratitude.
Transformation is contagious
Since then, something in my mother has softened. A weight seems to have lifted from her shoulders – one I had carried for too long. For the first time, she began to truly respect my existence as independent from hers. She no longer tries to shape me into a version of herself, nor into the dream she once held for the daughter she did not know how to let go of.
Now, she supports the life I am creating – even when my dreams still look nothing like the ones she once imagined for me.
Something in her woke up. She snapped out of a more than 30-year depression, and, for the first time in decades, she began taking full responsibility for her own emotional life.
(And to do that when you are 80 – that is truly a life worth living!)
We now agree: I will help her when I can, and when she truly needs it. But I am not her anchor anymore.
Our bond is no longer driven by guilt or inherited sorrow. There is space now. Space for love. For boundaries. For respect. For freedom.
Rebirth
And for me… this felt like a rebirth. Like my real life is only just beginning.
At 48, the numbers are clear – I am already halfway through. The first half brought intensity, depth, learning. Every experience was valid. Every scar became part of the map.
But now, this second half… is for presence. For living intentionally, without compromise. For being fully here, with all of me.
The First Step in My New Life
The very first thing I did in this new life? I flew to Japan, for five weeks. Not for escape – but for healing.
To integrate the physical and emotional layers of everything that had shifted. To walk streets, forests, and landscapes I had never known – and yet to feel at home more than anywhere else.
To enter the warm sea and feel like in a womb, once more – truly reborn in the vastness of that blue warmth.
And yes, it was Taka from One OK Rock who served as the unexpected bridge – his voice reaching something deep inside me, becoming the vessel through which God reminded me:
A new beginning.
A quiet joy.
A call home.
But that…
is a story for another time.
If you’ve felt the energy of this story within your own body or heart, this short video offers a moment of presence – captured in Miyakojima (Japan) not long after the journey unfolded.
There are no words, only the stillness of becoming.
The breath after the storm.
The silence after the severing.
The beginning… already begun.
Let it meet you where you are.