- J
- J
Hello Beautiful Souls,
I want to share something with all of you. I have a purpose in this life:
To inspire, motivate, and empower as many people as I can who struggle with mental, emotional, and, physical illness and/or are the survivors of any abuse using the healing power of animals.
And, I need your help. Please consider donating to help me keep my service animals and get the necessary treatment I need to heal- mind, body, and soul.
Living with several debilitating chronic illnesses have left me unable to work, causing extreme financial strain. Besides a small allowance from the government and a provincial drug plan that only covers certain medications, I have been left to try to hold my life together while trying to hold my body together (quite literally).
The monthly expenses for medications and treatments that the government will not cover are overflowing. My service animals need care, food, and shelter as well as myself. My service animals (Tempo, Chloe, and Bling) constitute a significant part of my healing, and they are my family. I cannot imagine life on earth without them. I am in large amounts of debt trying to manage it all. I’ve had to put my University education on hold because of illness and finances.
All I want in life is to help others heal. I know it’s my purpose. I want nothing more than to access both holistic and modern medical treatments so that I can be stable enough to work and spread the message of hope to others. I need support to get there.
If you would like to get to know me better, please continue reading. Pictures can be found at the end <3
My life has never been simple or straightforward. It has been filled with pain and anguish but also with love and joy. I admire the stories of rebuilding a life from that pain. What I don’t often see are the stories of those who went through hell, are still navigating the obstacles and misfortunes of life yet are raw, open, and honest about their life ongoing. I always searched for guidance in people who were going through continuous difficulty and were still living life, intent on creating a better future.
We hear many stories of, “I used to struggle with <insert situation here>, and now my life is great since I have overcome that.” Don’t get me wrong; those messages are lovely and inspirational AND…
I want to do something different.
I want to tell my story of the past and present. My chronic illnesses will never be cured fully or out of the picture but of how I live in the moment, looking toward the future with acceptance, vulnerability, hope, and determination.
So here I am. To help people, I must first turn to look at myself, and I need help. Asking for help has never been a strength of mine. I need help to heal before I can genuinely help others heal.
My name is Bianca, and I’m twenty-eight years old. I’m a professional dog and natural horsemanship trainer and a student working towards a double degree in Psychology and Health Sciences at Queen’s University. I live with my medical alert service dog, Tempo, who is a five-year-old fox red Labrador Retriever from Cooperslane Kennels. My other two yellow Cooperslane Labs (and previous service dogs), Sage and Benson, have past on to rainbow bridge. I also own two beautiful horses, Chloe and Bling, who board at a farm.
Here is my unique story:
I truly believe animals come into our lives for a specific reason. They come to teach, to guide us somewhere or to help us heal from something.
I was born to two of the most exceptional parents a girl could ever ask for. I was loved unconditionally and treated like a princess (one nickname my mother stills calls me to this day). From the day I was born, I was always slightly unwell or dealing with some illness or another — nothing too alarming but still there.
When I was two years old, I was taken to a group of people who proceeded to abuse me mentally, emotionally, physically, spiritually, and sexually for the next two decades. My parents had no part in this whatsoever. It involved neighbors, and various other people. These people are master manipulators and can “hide in plain sight.” Many people do not want to believe that people and groups like this exist because that would mean having to accept that these horrific things happen on a day to day basis very close to home. I feel it is crucial to bring light to this dark subject.
I am a survivor of satanic ritual sexual abuse, torture, and mind control programming. To survive this horrific ordeal, I developed a dissociative disorder. Dissociation is a way for the mind to escape overwhelming trauma. A person can alter their state of consciousness so that they can live in an alternate world until the trauma passes. I was able to go to school, be with my family, and live life as “normally” as possible.
I also developed Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD). It is similar to PTSD (which is usually related to a single event) while C-PTSD is related to a series of events or prolonged chronic traumatization over months or, more often, years.
I always had a love for animals. We had a cat, Cinnamon, whom I deemed my “brother,” but I dreamed of owning a dog. I would walk and train neighbors dogs and took in every stray I would find until I located their owner. I read every dog book, planned my future kennel/breeding/training businesses, and gave detailed presentations to my parents on why I needed a dog. My trauma was still going on, but my dissociative disorder allowed me to have these moments of normalcy.
Here is a little information about my sweet “boys.”
My first dog (I was twelve years old) was named, Sage. I choose it because my cat, Cinnamon had just passed and I wanted to connect them somehow, so they are both spices. Sage means ‘Wisdom,' which is a word I connected too strongly. He was my first dog. I paid for him myself, and my goal was for him to guide me and teach me about dog training. My dream was to work with animals. He was my first teacher.
He lived physically in this world until he was eleven years old. He taught me about patience, assertiveness, consistency, and love. He showed me that a tough looking exterior did not necessarily mean you aren't soft or hurting inside. He taught me that having wisdom had very little to do with titles or labels and everything to do with character and morals.
Sage showed me there was a place in this world that didn’t involve pain and abuse. He introduced me to my dog training career and participation in K-9 sports. He guided me to a place where I met dear, dear friends who remain in my life to this very day. This boy started me on this healing journey.
My second dog (I was sixteen years old) was named, Benson. It turns out that this was a popular name during that time, so it wasn't as 'unique' as I wanted but the meaning was very close to my heart, so it was a match. As the abuse was continuing during this time, I became very attached to the television show, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. It is, of course, a show about sexually based crimes — one of the lead characters, Det. Olivia Benson (portrayed by Mariska Hargitay) became my hero. I would watch that show all the time. Contrary to what most people thought, the show was not triggering for me, even though it described a lot of the hell I was living in real life. It became my safe place. Whenever Det. Benson would help a survivor, in my young mind, she was "saving" me as well and saving me from the abuse and heinous things that were happening to me at that time. It seemed only fitting that my next partner was named, Benson.
This dog 'saved' me emotionally and later on, medically.
Medically I was becoming more unstable with chronic illnesses, and it was at this time that it was apparent that my animals were alerting me to my physical ailments.
This boy was not supposed to be mine as my name was down for another litter. My breeder called me and asked if I wanted a pup earlier because she had one left over from similar breeding (my two boys had the same sire), but he was a runt and had a slight hernia, so was ultimately left behind. My heart knew he was mine.
His registered name: Detective Olivio Benson.
He lived physically in this world until he was just nine years old.
He showed me that even if you look small, anxious, weak, or frail with visible deformities on the outside, it doesn't mean you aren't a strong fighter inside. He taught me that being funny and goofy externally does not mean you aren't terrified on the inside. He taught me about boundaries and limits and saying no.
He taught me it was okay to say when I was not okay.
He taught me to believe I had a voice and stayed by me when I started to speak about my trauma and abuse.
He guided me to certain people who are now pivotal in my recovery from those unspeakable traumas and the chronic physical illnesses I now live with.
And most importantly, he stayed here in this physical world long enough through his pain and suffering from a tumor on his brain to educate and guide my next teacher before leaving this world.
My third dog (I was twenty-three years old) is named Tempo. His heart is made up of pure joy and devotion. We connect on a level that I can never deservingly or adequately articulate in words. He is the most grounded partner (mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually) I've even had the honor of working alongside.
He has taught me about trust, loyalty, and self-love.
He has taught me to listen to myself and shows me what happens when I do not.
He mirrors back my fears and illnesses, so in taking care and healing him, I learn how and what I need to do to heal myself.
He saves my life every day by alerting me to medical issues that could cause serious harm.
He has held me during tests, procedures, hospitalizations, and surgeries.
He has continued Sage’s and Benson's work of guiding me to people that are helping me heal.
He knows when he needs to intervene and when I need to work through the pain of some emotions or issues myself.
He embodies what I want to become. Strong, muscular, healthy. Intelligent and hard working. Serious when needed and a party of joy when the time is right. Flawed but willing to work through the unconfidence and fear to concur it and step out stronger.
If you are an artist in any way (music, dance, art, etc.), you understand that words cannot adequately describe the way you feel sometimes.
This is Tempo. His registered name: 'When Words Fail, Music Speaks.'
Horses came into my life when I was sixteen. A dear friend sat me atop her sweet old, trustworthy horse one day, and from the moment we took our first steps together, I was in love. I began to lease different horses and started my high school co-op placement at a local training/lesson barn. During this time, I was experiencing a brutal increase in the abuse. My Zia (meaning aunt in Italian) had just passed from ovarian cancer. That same day, I fled to the pasture with the horses. It was winter and icicles clothed all the trees, fences and bits of grass that still stood on the ground. I cried and cried, verbalizing all my anger to the quiet stillness of the afternoon. The entire herd began to approach me. Two horses laid down, one placed his nose on my shoulder and fell asleep, the rest stood close with cocked hind legs, dozing. The only sounds you could hear were the deep, restful breaths, the occasional blow out from their noses, a tail intermittently tapping their blanket and my sobs. I had this connection with my dogs, and now it was happening with these magnificent twelve hundred plus pound souls. This was the moment that I knew my heart was growing to make room for these beautiful animals to walk alongside me on my journey.
My adventures into Natural Horsemanship began, traveling to the United States to learn and grow as a horseman and a person, purchasing my horses (Chloe and Bling), teaching and healing. Along with my dogs, horses became my haven. I met my mentor and studied under her. I grew mentally and emotionally, not just in my work with horses and dogs but as a person.
My horses are my mirrors. They each came from abusive pasts. Chloe hated people and would become catatonic every time I would try to interact with her and then wake up thinking she needed to fight and flee for her safety. She would dissociate, just like me. We would spend hours together, just sitting with one another. In helping her heal from her past, I began to recognize the similarities in my life. She was the reason I started to reach out for help regarding my abuse. As I began to speak about my abuse, the dead stare behind her eyes began to lift. The horse that would run from being caught, buck people off her back, attack if you tried to touch her began running to me in the field and trusting me to be around her most vulnerable mental, emotional and physical parts.
Bling had a rough start in his young life, yet he still had a spot in his heart that trusted people (this always amazed me). I always knew he had a lot of potential, and we had a connection that was deep but not as easily articulated like with Chloe. One winter, I was struggling with my stomach and flares of certain chronic illnesses. I couldn’t make it out to the barn for three weeks, and in that time, my boy became as sick as I was. Consumed by mental anguish, he stopped eating and lost an extreme amount of weight. He looked as lost as I was. It took a few months to help him begin the physical recovery. Again, during this time, while caring for him, I could start to see the similarities in my own life.
These two souls continue to teach and mentor me to this day.
As my life progressed, my mental health continued to deteriorate from the ongoing abuse. Anxiety, depression, obsessive-compulsive disorder, social anxiety, eating disorders, self-harm, panic attacks, and worry began to fill my days.
My physical health was always an issue, as well. I frequently caught colds and various other minor illnesses, had a variety of neurological symptoms, digestive problems, many sprained joints and ligaments, and strange unknown widespread pain. I was in and out of the hospital my entire life and saw many different doctors who could never fully explain what was happening.
Fast forward to my late teens, early twenties, my life still a confusing, traumatic mess, I began experiencing more odd symptoms. My muscles would contract in unnatural positions, and other muscles would twitch randomly. After many tests and doctor visits, I was diagnosed with a neurological condition called Generalized Dystonia Myoclonus. Dystonia is when your muscles contract or twist involuntarily, resulting in getting stuck in excruciating positions. Generalized means it spans over many parts of the body. For me, it includes my trunk (abdominal area and back), my neck, my arms and hands, and occasionally my legs. Myoclonus is a quick twitch of the muscles which are now constant in my right arm. I had a love for fitness, and it began to restrict my ability to pursue this part of my life.
I was someone who worked seven days a week, morning until night, teaching with dogs and horses, training and boarding dogs and in many intensive treatment programs for my mental illnesses. As I was in eating disorder recovery treatment, my team and I started to realize that my worsening digestive issues were not just side effects from refeeding but something more.
I was experiencing severe, intractable nausea, vomiting, and pain every time I ate or drank anything. Due to my mental illnesses and traumatic past, many doctors overlooked a lot of my symptoms. I was labeled as having factitious disorders when medical professionals couldn’t identify the causes of my many symptoms. I was called a liar and a drug seeker, and almost every doctor told me it was all in my head. I cannot even begin to explain the damage that was done to my already traumatized mind and body. My abusers had ingrained in me that I was evil and a liar since I was very young, and if I were to tell anyone what was happening that no one would believe me. Of course, this core belief attached itself to every aspect of my life, and even though I knew there was something wrong with my physical health, these doctors were proving what my abusers ingrained in me.
The stigma that is attached to mental illness is destroying people. The lack of understanding in the medical professional community is astounding. The only doctors that knew something else was wrong and advocated for me were my eating disorder, treatment team. My psychiatrist and psychologist kept insisting that this was NOT a mental illness thing and other doctors were ignoring them. If they would not believe a colleague or fellow medical professional, how could they believe me?
Over the next two years, I was hospitalized for weeks/months at a time undergoing various tests, scans, assessments, trialing feeding tubes, and IV hydration. Despite many tests/scans coming back positive, doctors continued to call me a liar and refused to help or offer any treatment. What they didn’t understand about me was that despite my introverted tendencies, I never stopped advocating for myself. I fought every day trying to find medical professionals who could help me, kept my health records, and became that annoying patient that calls and calls again. Through this painstaking effort, diagnoses were made, new doctors heard my cries, and the puzzle pieces of my life started connecting, showing the big picture. Here are a few that I deal with:
*Gastroparesis (A disease of the muscles of the stomach or the nerves controlling the muscles that cause the muscles to stop working, resulting in inadequate grinding of food by the stomach, and poor emptying of food from the stomach into the intestine.)
*Intestinal Dysmotility (Abnormal motility patterns in the small intestine including reverse peristalsis which causes involuntary smooth muscle contractions to move food/liquid in the opposite direction.)
*Median Arcuate Ligament Syndrome (MALS) (A condition in which the median arcuate ligament presses too tightly on the celiac artery (a major branch of the aorta that delivers blood to the stomach, liver, and other organs) and the nerves in the area.) I underwent surgery for this in January 2018.
*Superior Mesenteric Artery Syndrome (SMAS) (A digestive condition that occurs when the duodenum (the first part of the small intestine) is compressed between two arteries (the aorta and the superior mesenteric artery). This compression causes partial or complete blockage of the duodenum.)
*Severe Iron Deficient Anemia & Malabsorption causing several mineral deficiencies and requiring iron infusions and blood transfusions to live.
*Chronic Kidney Disease that required a PICC (Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter) line for IV fluids. A PICC is a line that goes into a vein inside your arm and ends up in a large vein in your chest for the delivery of fluids and medication.
*Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) (A condition in which the patient experiences repeated episodes of the symptoms of anaphylaxis – allergic symptoms such as hives, swelling, low blood pressure, difficulty breathing and severe diarrhea.)
*Dysautonomia (An umbrella term used to describe several different medical conditions that cause a malfunction of the Autonomic Nervous System (ANS). The ANS controls the "automatic" functions of the body that we do not consciously think about, such as heart rate, blood pressure, digestion, dilation and constriction of the pupils of the eye, kidney function, and temperature control.)
All of these are common comorbidities of something called, Ehlers Danlos Syndrome (A group of genetic disorders that affect connective tissues supporting the skin, bones, blood vessels, and many other organs and tissues. Defects in connective tissues cause the signs and symptoms of these conditions, which range from mildly loose joints to life-threatening complications.)
I went from an independent, employed, fit, young person to someone I couldn’t recognize in the mirror. I could no longer work or keep up with my love of fitness. I watched as my muscles got eaten away, my body depleted of nutrients, my eyes sunk in, and my color change to ghostly white and green. My ability to ride and do barn chores deteriorated. I couldn’t be active with the dogs anymore. I went from being extremely reliable and dependable to being unable to commit to anything. I used to blame myself for this after certain people began to label me with these terms. I now know, I am NOT unreliable, my health is. This is an important distinction.
I grieve the person I was, and I know that it is NOT an impossibility to return to the things that I love. It’s just going to look different than before. Not impossible, just different.
I now live with two feeding tubes (One goes directly into my small intestine so I can absorb medication and formula and the other goes straight into my stomach which allows me to drain/vent my stomach to help with pain and nausea), braces and splints to assist my joints when needed and mobility aids (cane/walker/wheelchair) when required.
A day in my life looks like most people’s worst days. Every day I’m plagued with nausea, vomiting, extreme fatigue, weakness, and severe pain. My joints dislocate and sublex up to 100x/day. It takes anywhere from one to two hours in the morning to prepare for the day (putting joints back into place from the night of sleeping, caring for my tubes, and preparing medication and feeds). My heart rate can either drop low or go to high despite my activity level. I often become lightheaded and faint because my blood pressure cannot regulate itself properly. At night I suffer from nightmares and flashbacks, which cause non-epileptic seizures. The list can go on forever. Tempo is always by my side. He can detect a blood pressure drop before I sit or stand and alerts for cardiac abnormalities and glucose drops. He can sense flashbacks/dissociation/seizures so I can get myself to a safe place. He provides me with mobility support if I’m trying to get up or if I feel unsteady on my feet. He can retrieve things like dropped items, water bottles, and my medication bag. He will jump up on me and lay his 70lbs of muscle across my legs or chest (providing deep pressure therapy) to help calm anxiety, to alleviate dystonic attacks and to add extra compression to boost my blood pressure. He has ridden in ambulances strapped onto the gurney with me while paramedics attach wires and tend to me. When I almost died from septicemia and necrotizing pneumonia in the summer of 2018, he carefully laid by my feet on my hospital bed and after six weeks of being bedridden, walked carefully beside me despite the 2 IV’s and pole, chest tubes, oxygen tube, and tank and wheelchair/walker.
With him by my side, I can live a relatively independent life. What I described above is a fraction of what this special boy does for me daily. Together we are fighting the stigma and creating awareness. I hope that we can help society start to understand chronic, debilitating invisible illnesses better whether they present as mental/emotional or physiological or both.
I am honored and blessed to have this special red dog by my side through this part of my life’s journey.
Thank you for taking the time to get to know a little (well, a lot) about me and my vision. Thank you to all who have and will continue to support me on this journey.
Help me help others.
Much Love,
Bianca
xoxo
I want to share something with all of you. I have a purpose in this life:
To inspire, motivate, and empower as many people as I can who struggle with mental, emotional, and, physical illness and/or are the survivors of any abuse using the healing power of animals.
And, I need your help. Please consider donating to help me keep my service animals and get the necessary treatment I need to heal- mind, body, and soul.
Living with several debilitating chronic illnesses have left me unable to work, causing extreme financial strain. Besides a small allowance from the government and a provincial drug plan that only covers certain medications, I have been left to try to hold my life together while trying to hold my body together (quite literally).
The monthly expenses for medications and treatments that the government will not cover are overflowing. My service animals need care, food, and shelter as well as myself. My service animals (Tempo, Chloe, and Bling) constitute a significant part of my healing, and they are my family. I cannot imagine life on earth without them. I am in large amounts of debt trying to manage it all. I’ve had to put my University education on hold because of illness and finances.
All I want in life is to help others heal. I know it’s my purpose. I want nothing more than to access both holistic and modern medical treatments so that I can be stable enough to work and spread the message of hope to others. I need support to get there.
If you would like to get to know me better, please continue reading. Pictures can be found at the end <3
My life has never been simple or straightforward. It has been filled with pain and anguish but also with love and joy. I admire the stories of rebuilding a life from that pain. What I don’t often see are the stories of those who went through hell, are still navigating the obstacles and misfortunes of life yet are raw, open, and honest about their life ongoing. I always searched for guidance in people who were going through continuous difficulty and were still living life, intent on creating a better future.
We hear many stories of, “I used to struggle with <insert situation here>, and now my life is great since I have overcome that.” Don’t get me wrong; those messages are lovely and inspirational AND…
I want to do something different.
I want to tell my story of the past and present. My chronic illnesses will never be cured fully or out of the picture but of how I live in the moment, looking toward the future with acceptance, vulnerability, hope, and determination.
So here I am. To help people, I must first turn to look at myself, and I need help. Asking for help has never been a strength of mine. I need help to heal before I can genuinely help others heal.
My name is Bianca, and I’m twenty-eight years old. I’m a professional dog and natural horsemanship trainer and a student working towards a double degree in Psychology and Health Sciences at Queen’s University. I live with my medical alert service dog, Tempo, who is a five-year-old fox red Labrador Retriever from Cooperslane Kennels. My other two yellow Cooperslane Labs (and previous service dogs), Sage and Benson, have past on to rainbow bridge. I also own two beautiful horses, Chloe and Bling, who board at a farm.
Here is my unique story:
I truly believe animals come into our lives for a specific reason. They come to teach, to guide us somewhere or to help us heal from something.
I was born to two of the most exceptional parents a girl could ever ask for. I was loved unconditionally and treated like a princess (one nickname my mother stills calls me to this day). From the day I was born, I was always slightly unwell or dealing with some illness or another — nothing too alarming but still there.
When I was two years old, I was taken to a group of people who proceeded to abuse me mentally, emotionally, physically, spiritually, and sexually for the next two decades. My parents had no part in this whatsoever. It involved neighbors, and various other people. These people are master manipulators and can “hide in plain sight.” Many people do not want to believe that people and groups like this exist because that would mean having to accept that these horrific things happen on a day to day basis very close to home. I feel it is crucial to bring light to this dark subject.
I am a survivor of satanic ritual sexual abuse, torture, and mind control programming. To survive this horrific ordeal, I developed a dissociative disorder. Dissociation is a way for the mind to escape overwhelming trauma. A person can alter their state of consciousness so that they can live in an alternate world until the trauma passes. I was able to go to school, be with my family, and live life as “normally” as possible.
I also developed Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD). It is similar to PTSD (which is usually related to a single event) while C-PTSD is related to a series of events or prolonged chronic traumatization over months or, more often, years.
I always had a love for animals. We had a cat, Cinnamon, whom I deemed my “brother,” but I dreamed of owning a dog. I would walk and train neighbors dogs and took in every stray I would find until I located their owner. I read every dog book, planned my future kennel/breeding/training businesses, and gave detailed presentations to my parents on why I needed a dog. My trauma was still going on, but my dissociative disorder allowed me to have these moments of normalcy.
Here is a little information about my sweet “boys.”
My first dog (I was twelve years old) was named, Sage. I choose it because my cat, Cinnamon had just passed and I wanted to connect them somehow, so they are both spices. Sage means ‘Wisdom,' which is a word I connected too strongly. He was my first dog. I paid for him myself, and my goal was for him to guide me and teach me about dog training. My dream was to work with animals. He was my first teacher.
He lived physically in this world until he was eleven years old. He taught me about patience, assertiveness, consistency, and love. He showed me that a tough looking exterior did not necessarily mean you aren't soft or hurting inside. He taught me that having wisdom had very little to do with titles or labels and everything to do with character and morals.
Sage showed me there was a place in this world that didn’t involve pain and abuse. He introduced me to my dog training career and participation in K-9 sports. He guided me to a place where I met dear, dear friends who remain in my life to this very day. This boy started me on this healing journey.
My second dog (I was sixteen years old) was named, Benson. It turns out that this was a popular name during that time, so it wasn't as 'unique' as I wanted but the meaning was very close to my heart, so it was a match. As the abuse was continuing during this time, I became very attached to the television show, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. It is, of course, a show about sexually based crimes — one of the lead characters, Det. Olivia Benson (portrayed by Mariska Hargitay) became my hero. I would watch that show all the time. Contrary to what most people thought, the show was not triggering for me, even though it described a lot of the hell I was living in real life. It became my safe place. Whenever Det. Benson would help a survivor, in my young mind, she was "saving" me as well and saving me from the abuse and heinous things that were happening to me at that time. It seemed only fitting that my next partner was named, Benson.
This dog 'saved' me emotionally and later on, medically.
Medically I was becoming more unstable with chronic illnesses, and it was at this time that it was apparent that my animals were alerting me to my physical ailments.
This boy was not supposed to be mine as my name was down for another litter. My breeder called me and asked if I wanted a pup earlier because she had one left over from similar breeding (my two boys had the same sire), but he was a runt and had a slight hernia, so was ultimately left behind. My heart knew he was mine.
His registered name: Detective Olivio Benson.
He lived physically in this world until he was just nine years old.
He showed me that even if you look small, anxious, weak, or frail with visible deformities on the outside, it doesn't mean you aren't a strong fighter inside. He taught me that being funny and goofy externally does not mean you aren't terrified on the inside. He taught me about boundaries and limits and saying no.
He taught me it was okay to say when I was not okay.
He taught me to believe I had a voice and stayed by me when I started to speak about my trauma and abuse.
He guided me to certain people who are now pivotal in my recovery from those unspeakable traumas and the chronic physical illnesses I now live with.
And most importantly, he stayed here in this physical world long enough through his pain and suffering from a tumor on his brain to educate and guide my next teacher before leaving this world.
My third dog (I was twenty-three years old) is named Tempo. His heart is made up of pure joy and devotion. We connect on a level that I can never deservingly or adequately articulate in words. He is the most grounded partner (mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually) I've even had the honor of working alongside.
He has taught me about trust, loyalty, and self-love.
He has taught me to listen to myself and shows me what happens when I do not.
He mirrors back my fears and illnesses, so in taking care and healing him, I learn how and what I need to do to heal myself.
He saves my life every day by alerting me to medical issues that could cause serious harm.
He has held me during tests, procedures, hospitalizations, and surgeries.
He has continued Sage’s and Benson's work of guiding me to people that are helping me heal.
He knows when he needs to intervene and when I need to work through the pain of some emotions or issues myself.
He embodies what I want to become. Strong, muscular, healthy. Intelligent and hard working. Serious when needed and a party of joy when the time is right. Flawed but willing to work through the unconfidence and fear to concur it and step out stronger.
If you are an artist in any way (music, dance, art, etc.), you understand that words cannot adequately describe the way you feel sometimes.
This is Tempo. His registered name: 'When Words Fail, Music Speaks.'
Horses came into my life when I was sixteen. A dear friend sat me atop her sweet old, trustworthy horse one day, and from the moment we took our first steps together, I was in love. I began to lease different horses and started my high school co-op placement at a local training/lesson barn. During this time, I was experiencing a brutal increase in the abuse. My Zia (meaning aunt in Italian) had just passed from ovarian cancer. That same day, I fled to the pasture with the horses. It was winter and icicles clothed all the trees, fences and bits of grass that still stood on the ground. I cried and cried, verbalizing all my anger to the quiet stillness of the afternoon. The entire herd began to approach me. Two horses laid down, one placed his nose on my shoulder and fell asleep, the rest stood close with cocked hind legs, dozing. The only sounds you could hear were the deep, restful breaths, the occasional blow out from their noses, a tail intermittently tapping their blanket and my sobs. I had this connection with my dogs, and now it was happening with these magnificent twelve hundred plus pound souls. This was the moment that I knew my heart was growing to make room for these beautiful animals to walk alongside me on my journey.
My adventures into Natural Horsemanship began, traveling to the United States to learn and grow as a horseman and a person, purchasing my horses (Chloe and Bling), teaching and healing. Along with my dogs, horses became my haven. I met my mentor and studied under her. I grew mentally and emotionally, not just in my work with horses and dogs but as a person.
My horses are my mirrors. They each came from abusive pasts. Chloe hated people and would become catatonic every time I would try to interact with her and then wake up thinking she needed to fight and flee for her safety. She would dissociate, just like me. We would spend hours together, just sitting with one another. In helping her heal from her past, I began to recognize the similarities in my life. She was the reason I started to reach out for help regarding my abuse. As I began to speak about my abuse, the dead stare behind her eyes began to lift. The horse that would run from being caught, buck people off her back, attack if you tried to touch her began running to me in the field and trusting me to be around her most vulnerable mental, emotional and physical parts.
Bling had a rough start in his young life, yet he still had a spot in his heart that trusted people (this always amazed me). I always knew he had a lot of potential, and we had a connection that was deep but not as easily articulated like with Chloe. One winter, I was struggling with my stomach and flares of certain chronic illnesses. I couldn’t make it out to the barn for three weeks, and in that time, my boy became as sick as I was. Consumed by mental anguish, he stopped eating and lost an extreme amount of weight. He looked as lost as I was. It took a few months to help him begin the physical recovery. Again, during this time, while caring for him, I could start to see the similarities in my own life.
These two souls continue to teach and mentor me to this day.
As my life progressed, my mental health continued to deteriorate from the ongoing abuse. Anxiety, depression, obsessive-compulsive disorder, social anxiety, eating disorders, self-harm, panic attacks, and worry began to fill my days.
My physical health was always an issue, as well. I frequently caught colds and various other minor illnesses, had a variety of neurological symptoms, digestive problems, many sprained joints and ligaments, and strange unknown widespread pain. I was in and out of the hospital my entire life and saw many different doctors who could never fully explain what was happening.
Fast forward to my late teens, early twenties, my life still a confusing, traumatic mess, I began experiencing more odd symptoms. My muscles would contract in unnatural positions, and other muscles would twitch randomly. After many tests and doctor visits, I was diagnosed with a neurological condition called Generalized Dystonia Myoclonus. Dystonia is when your muscles contract or twist involuntarily, resulting in getting stuck in excruciating positions. Generalized means it spans over many parts of the body. For me, it includes my trunk (abdominal area and back), my neck, my arms and hands, and occasionally my legs. Myoclonus is a quick twitch of the muscles which are now constant in my right arm. I had a love for fitness, and it began to restrict my ability to pursue this part of my life.
I was someone who worked seven days a week, morning until night, teaching with dogs and horses, training and boarding dogs and in many intensive treatment programs for my mental illnesses. As I was in eating disorder recovery treatment, my team and I started to realize that my worsening digestive issues were not just side effects from refeeding but something more.
I was experiencing severe, intractable nausea, vomiting, and pain every time I ate or drank anything. Due to my mental illnesses and traumatic past, many doctors overlooked a lot of my symptoms. I was labeled as having factitious disorders when medical professionals couldn’t identify the causes of my many symptoms. I was called a liar and a drug seeker, and almost every doctor told me it was all in my head. I cannot even begin to explain the damage that was done to my already traumatized mind and body. My abusers had ingrained in me that I was evil and a liar since I was very young, and if I were to tell anyone what was happening that no one would believe me. Of course, this core belief attached itself to every aspect of my life, and even though I knew there was something wrong with my physical health, these doctors were proving what my abusers ingrained in me.
The stigma that is attached to mental illness is destroying people. The lack of understanding in the medical professional community is astounding. The only doctors that knew something else was wrong and advocated for me were my eating disorder, treatment team. My psychiatrist and psychologist kept insisting that this was NOT a mental illness thing and other doctors were ignoring them. If they would not believe a colleague or fellow medical professional, how could they believe me?
Over the next two years, I was hospitalized for weeks/months at a time undergoing various tests, scans, assessments, trialing feeding tubes, and IV hydration. Despite many tests/scans coming back positive, doctors continued to call me a liar and refused to help or offer any treatment. What they didn’t understand about me was that despite my introverted tendencies, I never stopped advocating for myself. I fought every day trying to find medical professionals who could help me, kept my health records, and became that annoying patient that calls and calls again. Through this painstaking effort, diagnoses were made, new doctors heard my cries, and the puzzle pieces of my life started connecting, showing the big picture. Here are a few that I deal with:
*Gastroparesis (A disease of the muscles of the stomach or the nerves controlling the muscles that cause the muscles to stop working, resulting in inadequate grinding of food by the stomach, and poor emptying of food from the stomach into the intestine.)
*Intestinal Dysmotility (Abnormal motility patterns in the small intestine including reverse peristalsis which causes involuntary smooth muscle contractions to move food/liquid in the opposite direction.)
*Median Arcuate Ligament Syndrome (MALS) (A condition in which the median arcuate ligament presses too tightly on the celiac artery (a major branch of the aorta that delivers blood to the stomach, liver, and other organs) and the nerves in the area.) I underwent surgery for this in January 2018.
*Superior Mesenteric Artery Syndrome (SMAS) (A digestive condition that occurs when the duodenum (the first part of the small intestine) is compressed between two arteries (the aorta and the superior mesenteric artery). This compression causes partial or complete blockage of the duodenum.)
*Severe Iron Deficient Anemia & Malabsorption causing several mineral deficiencies and requiring iron infusions and blood transfusions to live.
*Chronic Kidney Disease that required a PICC (Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter) line for IV fluids. A PICC is a line that goes into a vein inside your arm and ends up in a large vein in your chest for the delivery of fluids and medication.
*Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) (A condition in which the patient experiences repeated episodes of the symptoms of anaphylaxis – allergic symptoms such as hives, swelling, low blood pressure, difficulty breathing and severe diarrhea.)
*Dysautonomia (An umbrella term used to describe several different medical conditions that cause a malfunction of the Autonomic Nervous System (ANS). The ANS controls the "automatic" functions of the body that we do not consciously think about, such as heart rate, blood pressure, digestion, dilation and constriction of the pupils of the eye, kidney function, and temperature control.)
All of these are common comorbidities of something called, Ehlers Danlos Syndrome (A group of genetic disorders that affect connective tissues supporting the skin, bones, blood vessels, and many other organs and tissues. Defects in connective tissues cause the signs and symptoms of these conditions, which range from mildly loose joints to life-threatening complications.)
I went from an independent, employed, fit, young person to someone I couldn’t recognize in the mirror. I could no longer work or keep up with my love of fitness. I watched as my muscles got eaten away, my body depleted of nutrients, my eyes sunk in, and my color change to ghostly white and green. My ability to ride and do barn chores deteriorated. I couldn’t be active with the dogs anymore. I went from being extremely reliable and dependable to being unable to commit to anything. I used to blame myself for this after certain people began to label me with these terms. I now know, I am NOT unreliable, my health is. This is an important distinction.
I grieve the person I was, and I know that it is NOT an impossibility to return to the things that I love. It’s just going to look different than before. Not impossible, just different.
I now live with two feeding tubes (One goes directly into my small intestine so I can absorb medication and formula and the other goes straight into my stomach which allows me to drain/vent my stomach to help with pain and nausea), braces and splints to assist my joints when needed and mobility aids (cane/walker/wheelchair) when required.
A day in my life looks like most people’s worst days. Every day I’m plagued with nausea, vomiting, extreme fatigue, weakness, and severe pain. My joints dislocate and sublex up to 100x/day. It takes anywhere from one to two hours in the morning to prepare for the day (putting joints back into place from the night of sleeping, caring for my tubes, and preparing medication and feeds). My heart rate can either drop low or go to high despite my activity level. I often become lightheaded and faint because my blood pressure cannot regulate itself properly. At night I suffer from nightmares and flashbacks, which cause non-epileptic seizures. The list can go on forever. Tempo is always by my side. He can detect a blood pressure drop before I sit or stand and alerts for cardiac abnormalities and glucose drops. He can sense flashbacks/dissociation/seizures so I can get myself to a safe place. He provides me with mobility support if I’m trying to get up or if I feel unsteady on my feet. He can retrieve things like dropped items, water bottles, and my medication bag. He will jump up on me and lay his 70lbs of muscle across my legs or chest (providing deep pressure therapy) to help calm anxiety, to alleviate dystonic attacks and to add extra compression to boost my blood pressure. He has ridden in ambulances strapped onto the gurney with me while paramedics attach wires and tend to me. When I almost died from septicemia and necrotizing pneumonia in the summer of 2018, he carefully laid by my feet on my hospital bed and after six weeks of being bedridden, walked carefully beside me despite the 2 IV’s and pole, chest tubes, oxygen tube, and tank and wheelchair/walker.
With him by my side, I can live a relatively independent life. What I described above is a fraction of what this special boy does for me daily. Together we are fighting the stigma and creating awareness. I hope that we can help society start to understand chronic, debilitating invisible illnesses better whether they present as mental/emotional or physiological or both.
I am honored and blessed to have this special red dog by my side through this part of my life’s journey.
Thank you for taking the time to get to know a little (well, a lot) about me and my vision. Thank you to all who have and will continue to support me on this journey.
Help me help others.
Much Love,
Bianca
xoxo