An Open Letter To The First Lady – http://wp.me/p1CLCu-6Is
My heart goes out to you.
We failed you as a society.
Although I truly want to, I cannot really fathom the depths of despair which caused you to commit such a heinous act against your children; your flesh and blood.
I can only imagine that you must have been in such turmoil with your mind and body having gone through so many pregnancies so quickly with no time to recuperate. You probably have not slept a full night in more than 5 years. Your pregnancies probably depleted your body of all of its nutrients that allow for someone to think logically and with reason.
I do not know your circumstance and I can only speculate about what kind of person would continually get you pregnant so quickly after having so much strain on your body. I truly hope you were not also in an abusive relationship. A person like that to me could not have been a loving and understanding father, husband, or partner.
I cannot imagine what it would be like, but I do want you to know that I am mourning the lives of your children and hoping for the best for your surviving son. He is going to have to endure all of the ridicule that you receive and his heart will be tortured for many years to come. Some people do not think about these things when they quickly judge someone else’s action. For that I am truly sorry.
I really hope that the other partner/s involved in this tragedy do not exploit these circumstances for financial gain when he or they are culpable in this matter. Women do not have babies alone and real fathers have compassion for their wives and partners. Real men help with the children and try to relieve stress on the mother.
I too have been in the deep shadows of the depths of despair where psychosis lurks. It is not enjoyable to rise from those places back into the light and realize the pain and destruction that you have caused. You can never go back. You must now forever live with this guilt and for that I am really sorry, and I do not judge you. My heart goes out to you and your family.
Human beings whom are reading this, if you know a mother who too has had this many children in such a short time period please give them some stress relief!
Cook them a good dinner.
Clean their house.
Watch the kids and give them an afternoon off.
Hang out, laugh, and do laundry together.
Do not make them feel bad for having gotten pregnant yet again. It happens. What is done is done. The least we can do is help make life a bit easier so that the next generation of human beings can grow up to make this world an even better place where tragedies like this, that are preventable, do not occur.
We can learn from this.
We are all in this together.
*Edit Note: I was informed via Facebook by George Brown of WREG that his understanding is that not all of the children were Shanynthia’s biological children and that we do not know if her husband was supportive or not. He also added that we do not know if she sought, turned away, or was turned away from an kind of treatment. I wanted to add these because I wrote earlier from the heart after hearing such negativity about this story. I did not do any research and did not claim that I was reporting in any way about this story.
I would like to note that women can have postpartum psychosis from only one pregnancy. It does not just occur after multiple pregnancies. Also I would like to note, that I thank all of those fathers out there that do their best to be supportive, my husband is one. You guys rock as well as any aunts, mother, sisters, friends, and the like that support our mother’s in this world. We need people like you. We need deeply caring and compassionate people to support us in any way possible.
I have been revisiting the human anatomy as of late and I was pretty astounded by a correlation with the sphenoid bone and pituitary gland of the human body with the Egyptian winged disk. There is an uncanny resemblance. I was quickly reminded of the eye of Horus and the pineal gland.
Here is a picture of the Eye of Horus to refresh your memory or show you for the first time.
I really like this correlation and all the things it makes my mind think about.
Here is what I believe I have found. First the solar winged disk.
Here is the sphenoid bone. The pituitary gland hangs just behind the Dorsum sellae in the sella turcica. I think the likeness is uncanny.
Here is a picture from the side of the pituitary gland sitting in the Sella Turica and you can see it in relation to the pineal gland. If the Egyptians were messing with one part of the brain they could have been snooping around in others.
I’m not sure where this idea can go, but there is certainly so much that can be ascertained. We do know the Egyptians were all about cutting up the human body and that other ancient peoples have even performed brain surgery.
Were the Egyptians’ stories about the gods trying to assimilate a physical body with a spiritual mind? How do we teach and pass on inner strength and morality? If these things come from within us, where does within ever end? Could it be considering a whole realm of reality that is within our own human minds?
I have always like to view the stories of the gods and goddesses as a way to formulate how humans and society work. First you have higher thinking and authority, then you have so many different attributes of human behavior from anger to beauty and the arts to war. Among the myths there is room for every human emotion along with an embodiment of values and ideals. We as humans like to anthropomorphize everything.
Just think about the recent film Inside Out. Each emotion was given specific character traits and bodies to match. Hundreds of years in the future these characters may be seen as mythological gods.
While trying to find other correlations of the sphenoid bone and the winged sun disk, I found the following bit of information. It brings in another feature called the optic chiasm which is the area where the optic nerves cross. Now sight is being added to the equation.
Teaching about the sella turcica
I’m not sure what to think about it, but it is interesting how this little area is living on in teachings these days. How come it lost the correlation with the winged disk?
I will leave you with this picture of where the optic chiasm is in relation to the pituitary gland. Maybe someone out there will do a better job of bringing all this information together.
A Wandering Soul…
I love to wander.
I love to wander through thoughts which ponder
of experience and understanding
of the many possibilities.
Wander through things that are imaginable
because I have had the ability and seen
and had the ability and did
and wander through things that are unimaginable
that only peek through bits and pieces
small gestures and fragments minutely perceivable
I love to imagine all the multitude of possibilities
and then to know that I still cannot fathom it all…
This understanding pushes me to wandering more
wander through the thoughts of others
not just in present day
but to travel into the past
to experience the lives
to imagine the exasperation
to feel the emotions of times before
yet ever so present
I love wandering through my gratuitous thoughts
things that come freely with experience
many memories of that which I have lived
My thankfulness of the language that humans have created
My gratefulness for the humans whom created the tools which recorded it
…and for the many hours spent and lifetimes used to document and record
so that I may wander this vast universe of possibilities
Thanks be to so many humans
throughout so many ages
influenced by so many cultures and ways of lifetimes
…for the thoughts of which I love to wander.
Blessings come in many ways in our lives and sometimes those blessing are in disguise.
It is easy to look back on our experience and see where something or someone was a blessing, but it is very difficult to see those blessing that are currently unfolding in the present, especially if they come with difficult change.
This of course does not mean that we are not blessed in the current moment; we just need to understand that blessings can come as hardships. We have all heard before when a tragedy strikes that maybe positive change will come of it.
I am reminded of the phrase “diamond in the rough.” If it were not for the hardships that cause one to get thrown about in the waves of experience, then one may never reach that level of refined beauty that so many seek.
I was asked recently by a friend, “How did you end up with a good man after being with an abusive one?” This was asked honestly with the underlying notion that those who get involved in abusive relationships tend to repeat those relationship choices.
I had never thought about my current relationship from this perspective….
How did I end up making a positive change in my life?
I am glad my friend had the courage to speak up and ask me. This was a blessing in its own right. The subject came up because of a blog post that I reluctantly made about my past abuse. I did not know at the time just how much healing that one blog post could bring me and again I was blessed.
My current relationship is thankfully not an abusive one. There are hard times and there are really tough decisions that need to be made, but I am now in a secure place in my experience that allows for greater spiritual growth. I am changing and growing and I am blessed to be in such a responsive relationship. I have been contemplating for weeks about my current relationship and questioning its blessings in preparation for this post. I only now see this relationship as such a blessing in progress because of this post.
When we honestly question our current experience for deeper meaning we are allowing the All That Is to move about freely in our lives to help us do some polishing up. This is also when synchronicity becomes visible. This has definitely been happening in my life, and I am happy to invite the change in perspective.
My previous post was about past blessings and where they have brought me. Those blessing in my life were much easier to view in hindsight. I could see the good that came about from those situations and I could say with confidence that I was blessed.
This current post is not as definitive as my last. I am being blessed yet I am among the chaos that comes with the shedding of old ways. Many of these current blessings are still being expressed and brought forth. They are not finished with me and I have not felt their true worth.
One of those blessings is my husband. It is his birthday today and I want to honor his presence in my life by expressing the blessings I have received from our relationship.
It has been difficult to truly see my blessings. I know that I have benefited greatly from our relationship and I know that I am happy with where our decisions have brought us thus far, but after 10 years we are still a work in progress.
If there is one great lesson that I have learned from this man, it is to seek greatness in all that I do and the blessings will abound.
I am still at a loss for words to describe the blessings in our relationship, but I do know that love is the best sandpaper there is when is comes to smoothing out our spiritual selves. My husband and I can only truly know our worth to one another and others can only know the reflections that our relationship makes upon this world.
My hope is that we help create positive change to those around us.
Change is always happening and we get to chose how we perceive it, just as you get to perceive my intentions for this post.
I want others to seek to see the beginnings of blessings in their current situations and remember that blessings come in many unsuspecting ways.
My mother and father divorced when I was 9 years old. This is the same age my father was when his mother lost her battle with cancer. Within the first year after the loss of his mother, my father also lost a brother to drowning and his grandmother to old age. Not long after these losses my father’s other siblings left home, and he being the baby was left to survive this devastating string of events with an emotionally and psychologically unstable father.
My father was never equipped to create and raise 3 girls, let alone 2 step children along with a wife who had untreated thyroid problems that caused a whole slew of psychological trauma on its own.
I am not real sure how we as children survived much of this. Thankfully, none of my siblings lost their lives, but we were all disturbed none the less.
We were, however, blessed with the presence of a man who walked into our loves so simply serendipitous. My mother was eating by herself at a restaurant one morning and was approached by a young man asking for a cigarette. This young man was accompanied that morning by his uncle who had noticed the petite woman dinning alone. He didn’t care if she had a cigarette or not, he really just wanted to know more about her.
Within a few months my mother and this man would be married in the living room of our home. She was in a mint green dress and he in slacks and a button down. It would make a third marriage for the both of them. Last summer they celebrated their 23rd anniversary.
In a few days, this man turns 56 and I have so many life lessons attributed to his sweet and kind spirit. He taught me not only how to play chess and to cast a fishing line, but he also taught me that among the chaos of life there are still waters.
I do not know much about where he came from and how it was that he made his way into our lives, but he was the bastion of hope that our family needed. He may not have been my biological father, but he was father to me in so many ways. I am so thankful for his being in my life and my family’s life.
He was the age I am now when he was given the choice by my mother to take on a family or move on. He chose the hard path, and he walked into a damaged home filled with broken hearts and managed to patch some things up by setting a good example.
I often contemplate where my life would be without his guidance and acceptance. He was the memory in the back of my mind that allowed me to see the good in the world. When my heart was broken by detestable men, I had the hope there were good men out there because of his representation.
I owe him so much for showing up in our lives and maintaining a place in our hearts, and for all of the effort and love that he put into my growth as a being. Just knowing the struggles he faced as a surrogate father encourages me to push forward when things get difficult in my own life.
I was and still am truly blessed by his presence in my life, and my wish as we begin our journey into 2016 and beyond is that others receive such a great blessing in their lives as well.
I began this as an exercise to help me emotionally heal from past trauma, but what started out as a short exercise quickly turned into many hours and pages of writing with no sign of stopping. It just poured out of me.
I was a bit unprepared and really should have been working on my commissions, but the universe had other plans. I feel deeply that sharing my story will bring forth more healing than I could have imagined.
The result of my Exercise:
“Get in the truck!” Mike yelled at me from the doorway of my friend’s house.
He had driven his truck through the yard, and parked right in front of the porch. This wasn’t an unusual event. Mike parking his truck in the yard. His urgency and tone however were a surprise to me.
Everyone I knew used the yard in such the same way. The small property usually was filled with mud covered vehicles some of which were filled with 4-wheelers and beer packed coolers. The house was rented by two twenty something brothers and their female cousin. Located in a dry county this property still saw its fill of liquor and drugged induced parties. The brothers may have paid the bills, but the house was claimed by many as home throughout the week and late into the night on the weekends.
I first met the brothers of the house through my friend who dated one of them. How we as teenage girls became involved with guys more than 5 years our senior is a distant memory, but we quickly became a regular presence at the house. Mike was 8 years older than me. I met him through the brothers who lived down the street from Mike’s parents house. Dating underage girls was not the only thing that went on against the law in that house.
“Where are we going?” I asked Mike as we walked outside.
“Just get in the damned truck,” He snapped back at me.
I quickly heeded his request wondering what his intentions were. As I closed the door to his truck, he promptly demanded, “Pull down your pants!”
“What!” I look perplexed at him as quickly as I felt violated.
“NOW!” He yelled. “I fucking said now! Pull down your pants!”
He was so angry and I couldn’t conceive of why. I was pretty high at this point in the evening which may explained some of my dismay, but I had not done anything to deserve this kind of abuse from him. I had been given some money earlier in the evening by Mike’s parents. They had agreed to watch my daughter and sent me out to do some roaming just as their son had done earlier in the evening and many evenings before. They may have saw the discontent in me about my relationship with their son. They were first hand witnesses of our relationship since we had lived with them for more than a year now.
In hindsight dating an adult guy who lives with his parents might not be the best choice for a 17 year old, but I was naive and at the time the relationship worked.
I happily took the money from his parents, called my friend Cam, and made plans to hang out. I made the 20 minute trip from my house to Cam’s. Darkness set as I made the drive down the long country roads. I couldn’t have imagined where my night would have ended.
As I made my way down the curvy road to Cam’s house, I passed the street that led to the Farm. Thoughts began to swirl in my mind. Thoughts that could not be harnessed. I imagined and then re-imagined that feeling. That feeling was what comes over one when you take the first drag of a pipe loaded up with crack cocaine. It was the feeling of consummate euphoria. My mind supposes it is the feeling of divine union with God himself. The thought of that feeling made my heart race and my mind fill with emotions. I quickly assessed the time. I pulled over into a church parking lot not far past the road to the Farm. I couldn’t think straight. I searched through the console and then the glovebox. I didn’t have anything I could use to create a makeshift pipe if I could score some dope. I didn’t think. I immediately pulled back onto the road and made my way to the Farm. “Cam will wait. It won’t take me long,” I had thought to myself. I didn’t have much cash on me, but I had enough to get a good sized rock.
I made my way down the dark and narrow one lane road. There were no street lights and very few houses. That is until you make it to the Farm. The road is still one lane but the trees opened up. There was an eerie red hue from the brake lights of other vehicles being approached by runners. The runners were the guys who ran with the money and brought back the dope in return. They ran the dope to get dope in return. If one doesn’t know what they are doing the runner will take your money and never return. Sometimes they will try to pass off soap or peanuts as dope. Either way you will be at a loss. The runners have an upper hand. I slowly made my way around vehicles and spotted a runner I knew from previous encounters at the Farm. I rolled the my window down and shouted at him. He helped me score and then I asked him about getting hold of a pipe. Some runners kept pipes on them for trade. The runner suggested I take him down the road in exchange for use of a pipe. He showed me a pipe while explaining his plan. I hesitated, then I looked at my ashtray where I’d stashed my rock. I took a quick look around at vehicles entering and leaving. Fear comes over me. “Where is Mike tonight?” I think. He could have had the same thought as I and could be pulling up any minute. A question ran through my mind, “What if he catches me?” I didn’t have time to think. I agreed with the plan and unlocked the door for the runner. He jumped into the front seat. He was an older white man who looked to be about in his 40’s. His hair was thin and long as well as his scraggly beard. He quickly directed me where to go and thanked me for the ride. “You can’t catch a break, man, they all want a piece…ne’er leave a fella alone,” He lamented to me his problems with smoking his payments around the other runners. He then began to fiddle with the radio. I was a bit relieved. He reminded me of my dad with his short stature and lanky malnourished body. I relaxed some and followed his directions. We pulled off the road, through an open gate, and out onto a gravel drive. He assured me we won’t be bothered here and reminds me of his promise of pipe privileges. I again wondered if I had made a mistake. It was all a mistake. I pulled behind a fence of bushes off the drive and parked. My lights had been off for most of the drive to our secluded spot. He quickly loaded up his screen with dope and took a long slow hit of the pipe. Finally I was allowed to take my euphoric trip to another world. It settles my mind for those short lived seconds. Quickly I am back to reality as we took turns until all we had was gone.
I made the trip back to drop off the runner. This time, though, while turning around to leave, I see a familiar truck. It was the truck of one of the brothers. He immediately spotted me, got out of his truck, and came running over to my car. He scolds me for coming to the Farm by myself. I wondered if he saw the runner get out of my car. He made certain to let me know that he did not approve of my actions. Him, here to make his own score, did not approve of me. We argued for a few minutes. I pleaded to him to not tell Mike. I promised to leave and never return. He seemed amiable at that point and promised not to say anything. I quickly return to my previous night’s engagement.
Cam and I spent some time at her place and made a trip to town. We of course ended up at the brothers house. Nothing was ever mentioned about my trip to the Farm.
I was a bit relieved at not ending up in the horrible perpetual cycle of scoring, getting high, then scoring again, getting high, then wanting more dope.
I was pleased with myself for showing some restraint.
This had been the first time in a long while that I had scored some dope. After moving away from the town and beginning Vo-tech classes, I had sworn off getting high. I was on a clean road to becoming sober. I had begun a full-time job at a local dollar store and had begun planning to make something of my screwed up future. I looked at this score as a minor set-back, but I was definitely showing signs of more control.
“What for!” I question Mike as he begins pulling at my shorts to unbutton them.
“Because I said so, you fucking whore, that’s why!” He retorts.
I am at a loss, but I did it anyways. I pulled down my shorts and underwear in the front seat of his truck. He reached over and grabbed the fabric between my legs.
“It’s fucking wet. Who’ve you been fucking tonight, you fucking whore?”
I was speechless as I embarrassingly pulled my shorts back up. I knew the brother reneged on his promise and that Mike apparently knew nothing about female anatomy. In that moment I felt like a helpless child. There was a sunken feeling in my chest. I just sat there frozen.
Mike pulled away from the brother’s house. My car was still parked in the driveway. “I’ll get it later,” I thought to myself.
Mike continued to yell questions and profanities at me as we drove down the road. I tried to argue my position. I tried to explain his parent’s generosity. He didn’t believe anything I had to say. I knew that I had done nothing wrong in regards to our relationship. I had never even thought about cheating on him. Nothing I said could calm him down.
He reached over and slapped me on the left side of the face with the back of his open hand.
“Shut the fuck up whore. I know what the fuck you were doing.”
My heart sunk deeper. I hadn’t done anything in my mind. I did do some drugs, but that didn’t hurt anyone but myself. My child was being cared for and he was out doing stuff too, but I knew the life I was living was not right. I knew I should have never went to the Farm. I wondered why I couldn’t control myself. At this point I was more disappointed in my lack of willpower than I was with the man that just degraded me in so many ways.
I felt disgusted on so many levels. My face hurt, my heart hurt, and my spirit hurt.
We had been together for about a year, and my daughter was only a few months old. That night was not the first time Mike had hit me, but on some level I felt as though I deserved the punishment.
Coming from a home of corporal punishment, it wasn’t a far cry from what I had been used to. From a very young age I had been yelled at and hit when my choices were deemed incorrect.
No matter what my choices had been, though, I had not deserved the degradation that I had received.
I can’t claim to know the first time Mike hit me, nor can I recall every circumstance that he did. I have some difficulty with recollection these days. I can’t say for sure why this is. Was it the drug abuse or the physical abuse? I do know that there were many times that Mike caused traumatic brain injuries with his explosive rage. He claimed, usually through tears, not to remember what he did during the worst attacks.
I’ll never know his side of the story, or what his childhood trauma was.
This January will make 13 years since I last smoked crack cocaine, and 14 years since I finally had the courage to reach out to my family for help. I had seen myself as a failure for so long, that admitting my mistakes was a very difficult task, but I knew that my future and the future of my daughter depended upon it.
Many times I have questioned my soul’s purpose here on earth. And I still do not full understand why I am existing now. I lived through so much trauma in those days and tried committing suicide numerous times to alleviate the hell I felt trapped in those 2 years.
I do not hold ill will against my aggressor. We were two lost souls who crossed paths in the no so best of circumstances.
Our eyes were jaded by poverty and drug abuse.
I have many good memories alongside those atrocious ones.
We celebrated the birth of my first child. I shared my first moments of parenthood with that man. I went through the process of moving into and decorating my first home with him. Together we took many trips and had numerous happy memories. I will not allow the tragedy that beset me make me forget the good I found in him and our time together. It is that hate/love that made it so hard to let go in the end.
I have learned much about myself from reflecting upon those experiences and the reactions that I had to them.
I am today who I have allowed myself to become despite my experience.
This keeps eerily happening…training exercises around the same time as the live event. The really sad part about this that gets me every time is that REAL people are loosing their lives. I do not for once think that those lives lost are fake or are actors.
I really hope that there is not some rogue government agency coming up with this stuff and people are actually loosing their lives over some greater agenda, but my mind can’t stop thinking about all the atrocities that have been wrought on peoples by their government. Throughout history this has happened, and in American history there have been 100’s of “conspiracy theories” that have later turned out not so theoretical.
Our jobs as citizens is not to sit by idly and complacent while these “coincidences” keep happening. It is our job to question and create alternative theories to try and figure out where we have gone wrong as a people. Is our society really creating these people? What trauma does our current system impose upon our youth that this is the end result?
Gun control certainly is not the answer. We can see from history that many many more objects can be used other than guns to cause mass murder. Just do a Google search.
If there is not some greater conspiracy behind these events, then there is something seriously wrong with our society and we need to fix it.
Please contemplate your lives and the lives of those around you. What things can you do to create peace in the lives of others?
My mind and heart cannot fathom why the parents of a 6 month old baby would go through with something like this. They just celebrated the birth of new life and in turn took the lives of so many. What went wrong?
Training exercises dovetail with mass shootings
What are the odds?
by Jon Rappoport
November 21, 2015
(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, The Matrix Revealed, click here.)
By Jon Rappoport
Note: Thanks to humansarefree.com. I found much information at the site, as well as links to relevant articles.
Whether mass shootings are approached as the mainstream reports them, or as false flags, staged scenarios, or outright hoaxes, there is a common thread which runs through some of them: official training exercises held just prior to, or at the same time as, the shootings.
I’m not trying to present an all-inclusive list here.
The November 13, 2015, Paris attacks: “Since the Charlie Hebdo attacks in January, from which 16 people died, Paris-area ambulance crews and emergency personnel have taken part in regular exercises designed to test their readiness for possible attacks. One such exercise was held on Friday morning…
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One thing that my coaching experience did teach me.
“Do not let someone to tell you who and what you are not.”
This is an essential lesson learned even without the payment for services.
My coaching experience started with me being wrapped up and flown on a magic carpet ride to an imaginative dream world. A world where I could have all that this world imagines for me. Great abundance and prosperity. Little did I know my idea of abundance (happiness, satisfaction, inner peace) greatly differed from my coaches idea of abundance (money, vacations, and stuff) This seeking of future abundance could almost become an addiction for some. I did what I do best…speculate and create.
I’m good at this. I could sit and imagine all day. I may be addicted to theorizing and postulating, but one day I feel something will come of it. This is because I can’t stop it and I’m not sure if I want to.
A huge bump on my flight to dreamland that brought me out of my daze was when my relationship with my husband was not only questioned by my coach, but I was demonstrably shunned for thinking such a thing about my own experience.
I may not have a clue as to why I am here on this earth, or what exactly I am supposed to be accomplishing in this incarnation, but one thing I do know down to the deepest of my core as a fluid and feeling being in this temporal experience is the facts about my relationship with my husband.
I know what we have and I know where we have come from the beginning. Our relationship is the closest and most profound experience that I have manifested in my reality. We are so deeply intimate that I find it difficult to even describe. We have pushed and prodded one another toward greater awareness of the other as well as into deeper understandings of ourselves. We continue to grow and hope to effect those whose lives we encounter. We have spent many countless hours talking about our deepest fears to our greatest dreams. I know no one closer than he. I am so intricately intertwined into his psyche as he is to mine. Truly I believe deep down that we are one soul on another plane. The completeness that I get from his presence in this life is the one thing that grounds me every time I let my feet lift off into the other-worlds; those worlds of doubt and worry. The desolate places within our minds that hold all the darkest parts of humanity in its tombs. These are the places where our devils and demons are chained and caged for us to view from afar. The places that exist so we may have formality and complacency. Those are the places that many try to ignore and forget. The places that get changed into myth as though they never existed. They are brought outside of our selves and put on display as if we have no order or control over their forces. It is easy for a dreamer to get lost in these deep dark caverns of our psyches. Nicholas is my beacon among the shadows. He brings me back to reality. I could go on and on with my expressions of happiness and gratitude when it comes to the other soul that gives me a sense of completeness, but it will not settle with anyone’s heart unless they too have experienced such a relationship.
I am grateful for the grounding that I receive from my husband, and it was our relationship questioned that brought me again out of my coaching dream state.
It pains me when I mention something about my love to someone and they reply with the totally opposite viewpoint using socially acceptable clichés about relationships. The cliches you see used in TV entertainment. The drama and excitment of discontent. It too is addicting to some. I thankfully do not have this addiction, I think…
During this coaching experience I began learning some things about myself and becoming excited about delving into the waters of my soul, but my coach stopped me mid sentence and told me that was not the case and that I needed to get that idea out of my head. I was immediately taken aback. I was shoved into my past where as a young girl I could be so entranced into my imaginative play and then was dragged out by the screams of my mother about all the wrong I had done.
This is when my expensive carpet ride hit some turbulence. I had opened up too much to a total stranger. I had poured my heart out and cried to this woman, and in an instant she betrayed that trust. I was shown a side of this woman that she had cleverly hidden from me. I had been given a completely wrong impression from the beginning as a cute sales ploy to gain my allegiance as a customer.
I was just another sales call.
I was disheartened.
Every interaction we had after that I was reminded of all the others in my past whom had lied to me about who they truly were; the manipulative and abusive boyfriends, the classmates who sneeringly joked about me, the mother who transformed into a monster, the father who abandoned me, the religion that ostracized me.
I was still healing from these things and so quickly were those wounds ripped open. I had spent the most money ever on myself. I was just emerging from my dark night of the soul on my healing journey when my coach grabbed those chains and drug me back to the filthy pits of transgressors.
I lost all trust again.
I was that little girl hiding back beneath the bed, peeing herself so she didn’t have to face the monster.
I wanted my money back. I wanted to forget about what had happened. I didn’t. I was shot down and too scared to stand up for myself. I stuck through the rest of our time together. I got nauseous and gagged a little when she spent an hour trying to convince me to sign up to her inner circle, for a monthly fee. I knew that I couldn’t use the same deceptive practices to lull some unsuspecting soul into a trap for a few bucks. I could not and would not join a group of women who pride themselves in the closing sales pitch as they flaunt the wealth that comes from their deceitful practice.
I would liken the experience to a new age cult. One is slowly reeled in by promises of multitudes and plenty be it happiness or money. Then once inside the halls they are damned to perpetuate the cycle in order to uphold their end of the deal. If they do not uphold their end… they are dropped from the circle that keeps them alive in whatever they were promised. Either you want it bad enough, or you would rather save your soul.
I sheepishly saved my soul and ran for the nearest exit.
I did gain insight with my coaching experience just like I gained greater insight from the many other relationships I have had as a human on this earth. I fell into the coaching trap for a reason. It may not have manifested what my ego wanted, but it did give me greater wisdom.
All of my experience plays a part in who I have become in this 33 year old body. It all comes down to whether I choose to allow that insight to help me create order within myself or delve into chaos.