Wednesday, 30 March 2022 00:46

What Does Feng Shui Have To Do With Vaginas Anyway?

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When I tell you I am about to be vulnerable, I’m about to be vulnerable with a capital V. We’re talking Vagina vulnerable. And if you are wondering WHY on earth I would be talking about my vagina so publicly, I would tell you it is because I want to help as many others who have suffered the most horrible pain you can possibly imagine on a multitude of levels when it comes to the “down there” parts of our bodies, which affect the up-here parts of our mentality and the everywhere else parts of our soul. 

I’ve always told people I’m a delicate flower. Since I was 18 I’ve had so many random, “what is that on my body,” or “where did that rash come from,” or “what did I just eat that is giving me a pounding headache,” types of experiences. But nothing, and I mean NOTHING, has ever come close to what I have been dealing with these last 6 months. 

I KNOW like I KNOW like I KNOW that this information is going to help at least one person out there who is suffering from something that doctors can’t seem to figure out or identify the cause, but have given a prescription to mask the symptoms. While it is all done in kindness to provide us some sort of relief, we are still sent on our merry way to continue to suffer, and be exposed to whatever it is that is causing us this unimaginable, and debilitating at times, sort of nightmare. 

So if it is you, the reader that I help, then all of this mortifying and embarrassing vagina talk will be worth it.

I can remember attending a workshop at Omega in Rhinebeck, NY, just weeks after my ex and I broke up last September, barely able to walk because it hurt so badly. Was it a yeast infection? Was it a bladder infection? God forbid was it an STD? I knew he sailed from our relationship straight to his next one, but did he cheat on me? This felt worse than anything I had ever experienced before. What the hell was wrong with me and why was this happening AGAIN?

The excruciating itch and extremely painful burn made me call my doctor on my way home from that retreat, because I was SURE it had to be a yeast infection. While I was relieved to get the prescription for Diflucan, I was disappointed when it didn’t help all that much. The symptoms had slightly faded but didn’t completely go away.

My life was becoming a daily cry-fest before leaving my room, or the house, or my car to go into anywhere. And then I would do what we all do when we are suffering, I pretended I was okay. I couldn’t let people know what was wrong because, well… it was about my vagina, and I was raised that it wasn’t proper to talk freely about that part of my body, but I’m SO FUCKING OVER the shame and the silent suffering. 

I had unfortunately been through this whole scenario the year before and been to doctor after doctor after doctor, only to be told, “You’re perfectly healthy Angela, we can’t find anything wrong, but try this prescription,” or, “there is this exploratory thing we can do with a camera where we would insert it into your – .” I would stop them with a hard fast “NO THANK YOU,” while waving my hands furiously back and forth. My previous experience has been that exploratory-anything hurts my sensitive-everything, and I didn’t want to deal with one more prolonged repercussion from something that was “exploratory.”

Any time doctors would offer me a prescription I would wince, telling them how sensitive my body was and how terrified I was to put something foreign and unnatural on or in it for fear of exacerbating my symptoms. Even though I had that little voice inside of my head saying “don’t do it don’t do it,” I still had the other unfortunate programming on repeat also in my head like a skipping record playing the number one hit, “doctors know best” track. 

That same year before, I had successfully linked my very similar issues to the toilet paper I was using, thanks to google and my own research. I had found an article written by a gynecologist who shared his own discoveries in solving what one of his patients had been suffering from that sounded identical to me and my symptoms. Vulvodynia was his diagnosis: “inexplicable chronic vulvar pain.” He found hers was caused by the toilet paper she was using. I KNEW that would change things for me. That made SENSE. And that was NOT a prescription. Instead of adding something to my body that could cause more problems, here was something I could remove and change and hopefully recover from. Different toilet paper. Check and done. 

I think with covid and the whole toilet paper shortage and the mass production of more of it, something had changed in the production process. At least that’s what my body was telling me. I discovered, after obsessive and intensive research, that some toilet papers used a bleaching process and even contained formaldehyde.  I found a toilet paper that didn’t use bleach or formaldehyde and everything miraculously cleared up within weeks. I high-fived myself for figuring that one out. 

Scoresheet: Angela: 1, Doctors: 0

But here I was almost a year later with my symptoms, worse than ever before. And for those who might be going through something similar themselves right now I will share with you what my almost constant debilitating symptoms were and sometimes still are when I have a flare-up;

  • Inexplicable intense vaginal pain externally and internally 
  • Urgency to pee, but can’t when I try
  • Bladder pain
  • Rectal Pain
  • Muscle spasms internally that feel like a vice or clamp is on my internal vaginal wall 
  • Feeling as if a hot iron poker has gone from a blazing fire into my vagina searing the entire thing
  • Feeling as if someone has taken a razor blade and sliced away at at everything down there
  • Feeling as though acid and rubbing alcohol has been poured on the fresh wounds that are invisible to the eye but felt to my core
  • A burning sensation that leaches into my body and bladder through my vagina
  • Feeling as if a knife is being inserted and twisted inside my insides

I couldn’t leave the house. I even missed my high school reunion last November because the pain was so bad, but luckily there was a mini blizzard in town that night, and it was an honest enough reason for me to stay put at home without having to tell anyone about my vagina chronicles. I also wouldn’t have to worry, as I do anytime I leave my house, about having to carry my own toilet paper supplies because god forbid I had to pee in a bathroom that wasn’t my own or at least Vulvodynia-friendly. 

With my mental and physical health in the most fragile of states, I headed back to the gynecologist for another round of tests only to be told “Good news, everything is normal. No yeast, no UTI’s, and no STDs, and oh, here’s a prescription.” 

I can remember sobbing to my doctor. “How will I ever date again?” And, telling her I couldn’t function like this as a human being never mind the thought of being with someone else. I remember she responded so confidently, “Don’t worry Angela, WE will figure this out.” And I truly believed her.

As I drove to the pharmacy, again, I called my sister Jenny, who knew everything about me AND my vagina. My sister, is also my world’s greatest cheerleader and best friend. I told her so enthusiastically, “I FINALLY found a doctor that was willing to ride the ride with me and help me through this and get some answers.” 

“Thank GOD” she said. She was just as happy as I was. Tears of relief were literally streaming down my face as we spoke. 

I brought home the cream not knowing which voice to listen to, my own inner goddess one, or the doctor’s. But I succumbed to trying this new medicine because the pain was so bad. Knowing I needed to rule it out as helpful or not, I became my own laboratory once again. How would I know this cream didn’t work if I didn’t give it a try? With a deep inhale I grabbed the tube and carefully tried to put out this fire that was ruining my life. 

An hour later, my internal goddess’s voice dialed it up a notch with a big fat “I TOLD YOU SO.” 

I KNEW in the deepest part of my myself, as she already did, that this prescription would most likely cause more issues, as all of the other creams had, and surely, it did. 

I headed to my Vulvodynia-friendly bathroom, and with the bidet sprayer in hand, and my unbleached toilet paper, I did my best ever so gently to remove what I could, but it was too late. The damage was already done and I knew I was facing another 4-6 weeks of this god awful fucking shit to go through. That’s how long it would take me to recover from a trigger.

I called my new doctor to let her know what had happened and find out what we would do next. But “we” quickly became “me” because she didn’t even take my call. The doctor that looked into my crying eyes and told me we would figure this out had just told her nurse to tell me there was nothing she could do for me and to call a dermatologist. Click. 

Everything went black as I felt swallowed up by the world in that moment. I didn’t know where to go or what to do anymore. I felt completely failed by the Western Medicine system and deeply alone because I was suffering so badly from something that no one could figure out. 

Not even me. 

For the first time in my life, I knew what it must feel like for people who suffer from immense chronic pain to want to die and actually do so at their own hands. It must be their only way out and escape from their suffering when no one else can find a cause or a solution to their pain. But because my own mother had killed herself when I was five, I also knew what it felt like to be left behind, and vowed looooong ago to never do that to my own daughter no matter how horrible life got. Still having my wits about me, thank God, I knew it was time to call a mental health professional. I could not do this alone. 

The pain wasn’t every day; sometimes there would be a day or two where I felt “cured,” and could take my dog for walks again with my sister. “We can do hard things Andie. Remember that.” She would always say it with such confidence too. We were both obsessed with Glennon Doyle’s podcast and that had become our new mantra. 

My sister called me daily to check in offering suggestions of what things she thought it might be, but almost always, it was something I had already tried. I loved her for her continual support, even if it was to just hold silent and sacred space for me while I cried on the other end of the phone. 

My therapist was wonderful too, asking me what things I had done so far seeing if she could offer any advice herself. 

I asked her how long she had to hear my answer. I inhaled a big breath and exhaled the long list of what I knew all of this was most likely not from, but may have helped improved things… and also told her I REFUSED to go BACK to ANY doctor until I had done EVERYTHING I POSSIBLY could before one more pill, cream, or procedure was prescribed. 

I went through the list of things one at a time, elaborating in detail on what each one had done, but for the sake of this article, I will give you the highlights:

  • I installed a bidet with a sprayer hose in my home
  • I stopped wearing underwear at night and during the day when I can
  • I don’t wear tight clothes
  • I only use unscented and fragrance free detergents and soaps
  • I make my own body lotion from natural ingredients and no scents
  • I bought a new washing machine thinking my old washing machine wasn’t rinsing well
  • I’ve had plumbers come and cut out filtration systems that I thought my be the cause from my water
  • I’ve changed laundry detergents multiple times rewashing everything every time in 1/4 of recommended detergent with triple rinse cycles
  • I’ve thrown out old underwear and bought new ones (only organic cotton)
  • I stopped using tampons with applicators because I would have increased internal pain after using them that would last for weeks
  • I now use only organic cotton that I insert myself (no applicators) only when I absolutely need to leave the house during my period, but otherwise try to eliminate things naturally with frequent trips to the bathroom and the bidet and unbleached toilet paper to clean up
  • I’ve tried using cotton washable pads
  • I’ve tried using small washcloths/cotton fabric squares that I would wash instead of toilet paper for when I pee to pat dry vs. toilet paper
  • I’ve bought a donut to sit on when I work as too much sitting can affect things down there
  • I get up every 30 minutes to keep circulation going
  • I never use soap on my vagina, only warm water to clean down there
  • I fan myself down there to air dry after a shower
  • I wear skirts and nightgowns so I don’t have to wear underwear
  • I’ve washed my hair upside down so shampoo and conditioner don’t run down to that part of my body
  • I’ve even tried inserting a garlic clove to relieve the pain, as recommended by MANY women on google who found relief from this, however for me, it caused bleeding because I am so sensitive and had to stop that too
  • I’ve tried Tylenol and Benadryl at different times as recommended, but none relieved the pain

“Wow,” my therapist said. “That’s a lot.”  She encouraged me to keep up with the trying of different things and assured me I would figure it out. I agreed. I can do hard things, I remembered. Thank you Jenny and Glennon. 

But then there was a day earlier this year, where I literally could not get out of bed because the pain was so bad. I had to use my first sick day as I knew there was no way I could comfortably get from my house to my car to the building and into my office. Walking was excruciating. 

And, for the first time, I let my 17 year old daughter see the pain I was going through as a result of whatever this was. I couldn’t hide it anymore in my own home. Seeing me cry, she helplessly said, “I’m so sorry mom.” 

“Me too.” I said back, not knowing if crying in front of her in the middle of this mess was okay or not, because I tend to try to do the “be strong” thing not wanting her to worry about me. Her father and I are divorced, and I do my best to keep it together as much as I can, and fall apart mostly when she isn’t looking. Another bunch of pre-programming bullshit that I am working on letting go. I’ve always told her it’s okay to cry and this is our safe place to do that. Now it was my turn to take my own advice. 

I hugged my daughter, assuring her I was figuring this out, and sent her off to school. 

I (carefully) sat down. It was time to reach out to my job. I had only been working there for about six months so, still with hesitation, because I’m a Capricorn, and my work ethic and attendance, have always been stellar, I texted my boss to tell her I needed a sick day. She hadn’t known how many really hard days I had already pushed through before getting to this point, and there was no mention of my vagina in that text, only that I wasn’t feeling well. Thirty seconds later, my phone pinged with her response. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know. I hope you feel better.” 

I have to say, I’m grateful to have a boss that is supportive, as I know things like calling out can provoke a humongous anxiety attack for some, and other stress inducing challenges for others. We all need as many cheerleaders in our corner as we can and I was grateful to have mine.

After texting my boss, I had this moment where I felt like Russel Crowe in the movie, “A Beautiful Mind.” The scene in my mind’s eye was like the part of the movie where all the equations and formulas floated before him as he tried to figure things out. What was it that I was missing? “I’m not digging deep enough,” I thought to myself. Why am I continuing to experience this god awful pain.

It was in that moment that I felt an “intuitive 2x4” smack to the head. 

“LOVING KARMA ANGELA,” I heard in my own head. 

That is the name of my small, but oh-so-big-in-my-heart, business. I am a Feng Shui and Healthy Home Consultant and Reiki Master Teacher. “Practice what you preach and look around,” said the all too familiar voice that I was paying very close attention to.  I stood there dumbfounded and became quiet as I tuned into the un-western medicine part of my brain, while searching for answers with my Feng Shui mind. 

It was my job and passion to help other people create healthy living environments where they could not only recover from their days, but THRIVE.

I called my cheerleader, as I did every time I had anything significant or insignificant to say, and told her I was using my sick day to find the healthiest spot in my home to become my new work station. I was determined to at least give my body the best possible chance it could have to recover from whatever this was that was affecting me on the deepest mind, body and soul levels. “You’ve totally got this!,” my sister said enthusiastically in her cheerleader way.

I got up and went to my consultation bag grabbing my Trifileld Meter. This tool measures the electro magnetic fields, or EMF’s for short, in our living and working spaces. The healthiest spaces from an EMF standpoint are the ones with the lowest readings or measures. Ultimately, you want none, but realistically in the world we live in with all of our cell phones and computers and smart-thisses and smart-thats and wifi and electrical everythings, it’s not easy to get out of the fields completely. 

EMF’s can wreak havoc on our bodies and create all sorts of chaos and health issues on a multitude of levels. This is an extremely controversial topic, especially with the latest 5G roll outs and whether or not they affect us. I’m not a scientist or EMF expert per se, but I can tell you for sure my own body has felt the effects of emfs on multiple occasions. 

There is a small but growing percentage of the population who experiences symptoms that directly relate to EMFs. 

My router for example, in my living room alone will cause my muscles to randomly jump and twitch almost every time I’m within 10 feet of it for over 5 minutes, and will continue to do so until I move farther away. Routers in case you didn’t know, should be as far away from anywhere you spend the most amount of time in, and certainly not where you sleep.  Our sleeping spaces should be recovery spaces since we spend a third of our lives there. Even with the 2/3 of our life surrounded by EMF junk, the 1/3 is of the utmost importance. My bedroom has been mostly free of EMF’s since 2018 when I became certified and learned all of this. But I hadn’t really paid much attention to the rest of my home since I began working there more with my new job and Covid.

Whatever this was that was debilitating me, I was determined to at least be aware of where my body could heal from it. Walking around my home office and living room with my meter, I couldn’t believe how high the fields were where I was spending most of my time during the work day. I knew that had to be a contributor of sorts and I suddenly had hope like a kid in a candy store, that I was onto something. I quickly rearranged some things to lessen the fields I was marinating in to make them safer.

I think it’s also worth mentioning, for those who have laptops, that while working from home, I had been using two lap tops (the work one in my lap and my personal one next to my lap) to be more efficient at what I do. I thought having a defender pad, which blocked the radiation, made it safe for me to use, but clearly I was still in a pool of electromagnetic fields. When we use of all of these electrical devices and cell phones so close to our bodies, we become a magnet for the signals to and from the cell towers and routers that are sending out and receiving electro magnetic waves and frequencies that are pinging away not only at our devices, but at and through our our bodies as well. 

This can disrupt our immune systems and be paralyzing to our cells when we are in these fields for long periods of time. 

It makes sense to me that the laptops could have been playing a role in my pain and I have since stopped using them directly on my lap. I also will put them on airplane mode when I don’t need the wifi because it stops them from being a source of the pinging to and from them and to and through us.   

Angela: 2, Doctors: 0

My awareness of energy around me led me to another discovery recently that I’ve connected to my pain. I was working on an art project at my kitchen counter and started to run the dishwasher beneath it. About 10 minutes into standing there, I had a SHARP STABBING pain as if a knife was internally twisting my insides. It hunched me over in heartbeat and I heard that voice that I knew so well tell me; “MOVE Angela.” 

Immediately I moved 15 feet away from the dishwasher and into the living room. The pain disappeared after a few minutes and once I knew it was gone, I went back to the working station near the dishwasher. Why would I do that you may ask? Because I was still trying to be my own laboratory, and I needed to see if it would happen again. Once could have been a fluke thing, but sure enough, a few minutes in to working at the counter there again, the SHARP STABBING pain returned. I left the art project and waited for the dishwasher to be done before returning to finish it. 

Angela: 3, Doctors: 0

off gassing furnitureNow that I was getting the EMF stuff under my belt, I moved onto the next Feng Shui thing: the functionality and practicality of my working space. This helps optimize my ability to successfully do, and be, whatever the task is at hand. 

I had purchased a vinyl chair mat because my old office chair kept catching on the rug not allowing me to freely move around. If you know anything about Feng Shui, then you know a chair that doesn’t move freely is a chair that is going to keep you stuck in what you are doing, period. (I still thank both of my Feng Shui teachers Tisha Morris, and Karen Rauch Carter for all of this knowledge and my Feng Shui eyes that I now see all of these things with.)

New vinyl mat, and new office chair meant I was free to move around and good to go. I was so excited to bring that chair into my home, with a high back that supported me, and arms to handle anything. But quickly I realized something wasn’t right in my newly organized space. My eyes began to burn and become inflamed. The corners literally became bright red and extremely bloodshot and felt like they were on fire. I knew, again because of my training, that new furniture would off-gas and continue to release it’s toxins for most likely months, sometimes even years, so I opened my office window, in the middle of winter, and shut the door in hopes of airing things out while keeping my house warm. With snow on the ground and an average temperature of 20 degrees outside, I couldn’t work with the window open when I was in there, so I did my best to take small breaks as not to overwhelm my eyes. 

But one morning, soon after I set up my fancy new chair, I sat in it to work, wearing only my nightgown and no underwear. Within 30 seconds I felt like my vagina was on fire and I was in tears. My legs started to itch, my eyes were burning badly and I was getting an excruciating headache. But the worst pain was mostly in my vagina. With welts that itched on the back of my legs, I immediately ran to take a shower. But you can’t wash off the inside parts of your legs and other places where all of those toxins just seeped right in, not only through my breathable underwear and nightgown, but into my permeable skin.

Holy shit. My CHAIR that I SAT on was causing my VAGINA to BURN! OH MY GOD did bells and whistles go off. This was a double whammy and triple home run for me using my un-western medicine mind. 

Angela: 4, Doctors: 0

Knowing what triggered me for the first time ever in 6 months, and that I now had another round of 4-6 weeks of agony before recovery, I got rid of the office chair and the vinyl chair mat. I knew they were definite culprits and this discovery was finally leading me on a path to healing. (My dining room chair now travels into my office when I need to work there, and my eyes no longer burn when I sit at the desk.) No more cushy new office chairs (or vinyl mats) for this girl and this vagina. 

Because I had the chair issue, I called the chair maker who shared with me that off-gassing was the likely culprit as were the adhesives and chemicals used in the memory foam and synthetic fabrics. She suggested I try a mesh chair without all of the toxic foams and cushions that would allow things to breathe better. (This will likely be the route I go eventually, but still have yet to try.)

If the chair did that to me in my office, then what else could I be reacting to that I was sitting on? I soon discovered, because I began paying laser-focused attention to anything that touched my body down there, that my car was a culprit too. 

Sitting in my car while driving for more than 5 minutes starts to stir things up. I can feel the same radiating leaching feeling, like a slow burn that seeps into my skin the longer I drive. I have since folded a cotton towel to sit on which has helped me avoid the full blown agony from this particular trigger immensely.  Looking back at the timing of when the worst of this had become my unfortunate normal, it made sense why I experienced so much pain after the 2 and a half hour drive to Omega last September and led me to all of the doctors. This also made sense as to why my new job would have paralleled with my suffering because I went from no exposure to suddenly all sorts of exposure driving back and forth every day for about a half hour each way, and then sitting longer in their office chair and my office chair, and being in their electric fields and my own… 

Angela: 5, Doctors: 0

Then I called the companies who made my organic cotton underwear. Some used plant based dyes while others didn’t. I couldn’t wrap my brain around why you would use organic cotton but then use an unnatural, potentially toxic dye. Supposedly they only used the “safe” unnatural dyes and not the “unsafe” ones. But regardless of the dyes, all of the underwear makers used elastane. “It’s what gives our underwear their stretch,” I was told. 

Hmmmmm… what was elastane? I googled it. It’s a synthetic fiber made from petroleum. It is also known as spandex, and lycra which are also made of polyurethane. A variety of toxic chemicals are used in the production of elastane. What else is polyurethane in? Memory foam. 

Angela: 6, Doctors: 0

Again I’m not a scientist, and I don’t know the chemical percentages of all of these things, but I am telling you without a doubt that my body is reacting to a lot of it. Different things I sit on trigger me down there – even my pajama bottoms – I threw them away and everything else that was made from polyester. 

Angela: 7, Doctors: 0

I also threw away the donut cushion because that too was sending my vagina through the roof just as badly as the office chair was and well, it was made of you guessed it, memory foam. 

Angela: 8, Doctors: 0

I am finding those fake furry blankets that I love and have all over my couches are another trigger as it feels like they too are leaching chemicals into my body. When I get cozy underneath one, I start feeling that same fiery hot sensation creeping in right before it’s a full blown pain fest in my vagina and body. I notice when I whip it off of me, my body comes back to normal within minutes. This feeling is so specific and I have learned to pay close attention to when it comes on. 

I’ve also learned that these fake fur blankets tend to be made with polyester and other synthetics and when heated up, start releasing their toxic chemicals into the air (and our bodies). 

Angela: 8, Doctors: 0

My cotton pajama bottoms that I thought were safe, gave me that chemical leaching sensation that started to creep into my bladder, which was exactly where the waist band was tight around my body. I took the pajamas bottoms off and the pain went away within minutes. Something about the rubber banding is a trigger for me. (Fun fact, latex is made from rubber and I know I can’t wear latex gloves or let my OBGYN use them in exams, so this makes ABSOLUTE sense.)

Angela: 9, Doctors: 0 

Those same pajama bottoms led me to figure out that my new hot water bottle was also a trigger. I ordered a new one a month ago so my daughter and I could each have our own as we often fought over who got to sit with the old one while we watched Netflix on cold nights in the living room. I remember the smell when I pulled it out of the amazon box. It was super chemically smelling as most new things are.  (Let that right there be a HUGE RED flag to you because even though I know what I know, I still have moments of forgetting, until my body screams at me like she loves to do when she knows better than me.) 

I filled it up with hot water and plopped on the couch hugging it to my uterus to relieve my cramps. It was almost like the office chair incident all over again, only straight through my belly and bladder this time radiating agony to my core.  I literally threw it off me like it was on fire itself and the chemically fiery sensation went away within minutes. (Google Rubber…..guess what it can cause with prolonged exposure: Cancer. Shocker.) 

Angela:10, Doctors: 0

I have to wonder how many people aren’t making these connections and are continuing to marinate in the tsunami of toxins that surround us and leach into our bodies. Who knows what I might have developed that could have been catastrophic to my body with an “unknown cause,” yet be given plenty of pills and procedures to mask the pain, or create more of it. 

These things that I am discovering, and continue to discover, are MY own triggers, and not things that any doctor or blogger has ever told me could be the originators of my pain. And I’m also not saying either that these things that trigger me will for sure trigger you too, but I am stressing to pay close attention to your body when it speaks. 

Maybe you, or someone you know has suffered through something similar that couldn’t be figured out by a doctor, and my dots can help connect your dots to your pains or their dots to their pains and this won’t end up just be an embarrassing story about my vagina for nothing. 

I’m RELIEVED to say my symptoms have GREATLY improved since I now know what I am reacting to. It’s no longer 4-6 weeks of a flare up when a trigger happens, but more like 1-4 days of discomfort at most. I feel like I am healing under the radar on my own without Western Medicine doctors, pills, creams or procedures. I haven’t written them off though. I finally made an appointment with a Vulva specialist, now that I know what is most likely going on. It is my hope that I can educate her as much as she can educate me, and that together, we can share our knowledge with other women who are needlessly suffering in their own minds, bodies and souls. 

Our bodies are sacred spaces, as are our homes, and both are permeable and need to be cared for and paid attention to like our lives depend on it, because they do! 

All I can say to you is this; listen to your body the way I am listening to mine, and pay attention to what surrounds you. You may not feel it now, but there could be a point somewhere down the road where your body can’t take it anymore and starts screaming at you. Don’t wait until then to get your scoresheet out. 

Read 915 times Last modified on Friday, 28 October 2022 10:09
Angela Vernola

My name is Angela and if you are reading this then I’m guessing you may have an interest in learning a little bit more about me and what it is that I do. 

As a Reiki Master Teacher, and Feng Shui Consultant, it is my passion and joy to share what I know about the world of energy and how to use it to live your best life. I offer Reiki Sessions and teach the different levels distantly, online and in person. I also offer Feng Shui consultations distantly via the floor plan analysis.  Feng Shui for the home is like Reiki for our bodies and I love helping people make these connections and shifts in their own lives.