My friend Renee has been yammering on for months now about how much she enjoys going to see her “energy practitioner.”  Since I couldn’t really quite wrap my brain around what an energy practitioner did—I quietly just nodded and smiled a crinkled smile whenever Renee would talk about her breakthroughs.

Up until a few weeks ago, I thought my energy was fairly decent. As far as I was concerned, my chakras were already aligned, my aura was buffed and beaming, and my mindset was clear.

Nope,  just the opposite.

Enter Angela Holmes, who informed me I was a hot mess of teen angst, worry and stagnant thoughts. In other words, I was mentally constipated. I went to go see her because I’d been under a wildly unusual amount of stress that I just couldn’t seem to shake. Massages helped, but only for a brief respite. Acupuncture was even less awe-inspiring. So I decided to go see what all the fuss was about.  Smart move on my part.

Angela is wildly intuitive, noting that my gut was in turmoil about 18 seconds after meeting me. All this time I thought I had a stomach bug, turns out my stress was wreaking havoc in my belly. As I lay on her table, the only thing I remember her saying is that she was going to “heal me from the inside out.”

For about an hour I was in some sort of hypnotic state … the kind where you know what’s going on around you, but cannot function in the slightest. My body felt heavy—no, check that, my ORGANS felt heavy. The one time I looked up was to announce –to no one in particular — that I was about to get emotional.

And then the floodgates opened. I cried the ugly cry, bawling well past the point of general hysteria for a solid ten minutes. Even weirder—by this point, I had actually stepped outside my body to watch myself go into an epic meltdown. I’m not a big crier, but I did learn later that Angela was working on my stomach during the crying jag to end all crying jags. (And by working, I mean, furiously waving her hands over my stomach. I’m not sure she ever touched me—except for a calm hand on my shoulder.)

Turns out that a lot of my good energy was fleeing my body—just like heat escapes out of an open fireplace flue. Now I make a mental note to pull back my energy and ensure I’m not doling out all the good stuff to whomever is trying to glom on.

If you’re reading this right now with a “WTF”-expression of skepticism on your face, I wholly understand. I, too, was a naysayer until I got on board the energy bandwagon. It’s just one more tool in my arsenal that I can use to battle bad juju and neurosis. And while I’m a work in progress, I am now a lot more receptive and insightful. And my perma-stomachache has subsided.

Want to know more? You can visit Angela on her FB page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Healing-Points/252559720894.  If you’re feeling even the slightest bit off or perhaps a bit dull, she has your back. She’s got a knack for getting you the clarity you need to be at the top of your game.