Something didn't feel right

Penned June 23, 2021

Prompt: Something didn't feel right

~*~ 

Five years old. 1964. 

"I HATE YOU!!!" 

Pound! Bang! 

"I HATE YOU! HATE YOU!! HATE YOU!!!" 

Crack! Crash! 

Pieces of red plastic scatter the floor --remains of the the small, red, once-rectangular, toy gum machine. 

"I DON'T WANT YOU ANYMORE..."  

Exhausted. Crying. 

Upset that the toy is destroyed. It will no longer dispense the two-pack Chiclets. 

Momma looks on from the kitchen, standing in the doorway, dressed in a patterned dress, wearing an apron, looking befuddled like she doesn't know what to do. The apron is a half-apron, tied at her waist. White, edged with small, embroidered flowers and a crochet-laced trim. 

I sit cross-legged, curly headed, and bucktoothed on the dining room hardwood floor. Probably barefoot, wearing cut-off jeans for shorts and a tee shirt. 

I don't recall why I was so upset with that toy. But I killed it with a fury. 

Maybe I just wanted attention; I threw tantrums on a regular basis. Mom talked with Dr. Davis, one of our family doctors, about my tantrums. He advised to allow them and to not respond. Apparently it worked; eventually I quit kicking and screaming and killing inanimates. Maybe I just decided nobody cared, so why bother.

Six years old. 1965.

David, my new 6-year old neighbor, and I meet for the first time. I don't know where his 7-year old brother is right now. David and I stand face to face. Me, a tomboy with neck-length curly hair and buck teeth, wearing cut-off jeans and a tee shirt, barefoot. David, short straight hair and straight teeth.

I'm not happy with my new neighbor. He seems like a sissy. I lift my hand, palm toward his face, place my fingers on his forehead, and pull down ha-a-ard scratching his face with my fingernails; it draws some blood. He screams and cries. 

Yeah, he's a sissy. 

Our moms jump up and run right over; they'd been sitting in lawn chairs getting to know each other.  The scream ended the visit. 

I don't recall getting punished or ever apologizing to David. But maybe I was and maybe I did. We played together on a regular basis for the next six years.  I'd play at his house and drink city water. I swam in his pool, along with the rest of the neighborhood kids, as the neighborhood grew. 

Maybe I wanted to prove this was my turf. I'd lived here at least three years already. Maybe I was jealous because his family built a brand new house right beside ours. I'd played in the big sand pile that was used to make concrete when the builders were building it. 

Our house was built in 1930, not 1965. Nothing modern about ours. We drank well water. David had city water. David had a driveway and 2-car garage. We didn't have a driveway. We had a tiny ramp for a maybe-future driveway at the new curb that had been built when the dirt road had been paved. Mom and Dad parked our cars parallel with the new curb. The new curb that ended right at the end of our yard. It didn't go down the road until some decades later when the Abernethy's old house was torn down and new houses were built. 

I deemed David's family higher class than us. 

David's family had a little Yorkie that his mom carried in her arms or walked on a leash. We had a hound dog named Dan who was rarely, if ever, on a leash. Dan used to go hunting with Daddy. 

The same trajectory...

In my previous chronic-illness life, I developed symptoms in 1982. Symptoms were severe. Too much to list. In 1999, we discovered my body was holding high levels of mercury which can cause immune dysfunction. With my then-integrative-doctor's guidance and treatment, we got to work. It wasn't easy, but I made significant progress. In 2000, I developed a herniated disc which led me more deeply into the mind-body connection. The delve and practices worked; the herniated disc gave up its spasms and pain. By 2005, I was well enough to leave a toxic religious group and its doctrine to which I'd been loyal for 28 years. Leaving the group was one of the hardest things I've ever done. By 2010, I was well enough to take up backpacking. I set a goal that by the year I turned 60, in 2019, I'd fulfill my high school dream of thru-hiking the 2180-mile Appalachian Trail. Unfortunately that dream never materialized because of the next chapter.

The next chapter

In this current chronic-illness life, I developed symptoms in 2011, coinciding with some emotional trauma and a medication for toenail fungus. Again, symptoms have been severe. Too much to list. In 2016, we discovered my artificial hip implant from 2008 had been leaching cobalt and chromium into my body which can contribute to, and even cause, the nerve damage that was plaguing me. In 2016, I got the defective implant explanted and a new non-defective one implanted. My metal levels were down within two years, and I've made significant progress. In 2019 I began to develop shortness of breath, not related to the nerve damage. Doctors couldn't find a cause, other than maybe anxiety from an emotionally traumatizing series of events which had begun in February, 2019, and culminated (at least externally) in January, 2020. In May, 2020, I began having thoracic-back spasms and pain. (Also, I had shingles in October and November.) In February, 2021, the shortness of breath and thoracic pain worsened. By March, 2021, doctors had ruled out (with added tests and images) physical causes...so, in March, 2021, I began (again) a deeper dive into mind-body medicine on a re-quest (quest again) toward healing.

It appears, I'm on the same trajectory now as in my past healing journey...

• Emotional trauma
• Overresponsive immune system
• Diagnosis of disease(s)
• Begin medications
• Connected with good MDs
• Begin integrative medicine with  herbs, nutrition, mind-body work, education, journaling
• Discover heavy metal toxicity
• Remove the cause of the toxicity
• Help and allow my body time to rid the metal toxicity
• Symptoms slowly improve
• Physical symptoms unrelated to the disease(s) appear
• Approach the new symptoms as strictly mind-body
• The new symptoms disappear/improve
• Delve deeper into mind-body work with renewed hope that it may help the initial disease(s) that were in part caused by heavy metals and emotional traumas

In 2004, I got well from decades of chronic health adversities.
In 2021, the outcome remains to be seen.

~*~

Yesterday, 6/30/21

I load my schnauzer-printed tote bag, which I carry almost everywhere, with 2 books I'm reading and my journal, to take to my appointment with Dr. Smith who is my chiropractor, homeopath, nutritionist, and functional medicine doctor. I've been his patient since 2002. Currently I've hired him as my mind-body coach on my current re-quest; ie: quest again.

As I placed the books inside the bag, I thought...

I used to do this with Dr. Piva....

Immediately an image appeared in my mind. 

Me, 1999 - 2001, sitting across from Dr. Piva as he sat at his desk, unloading my books and journal and and then sharing with him what I was learning. Dr. Piva was my GP, osteopath, allergist, and nutritionist who was crucial in my past healing from two decades of chronic autoimmune illnesses.

My immediate thought following the image was...

I'm on the same trajectory...

Some weeks back I wrote, I have renewed hope. It's a hope I haven't had in awhile. This renewal has originated in part from again re-educating my self on healing, the connection of soul, mind, body. The books I'm reading now have newer research about our intricate human bodies; it's a subject that thrills me and instills awe and wonder and amazement...and hope. 

Back in 2000, after starting to journal and re-educate my self, this same thing happened...this renewal of hope. I state in my health story regarding that era in my life: I continued to journal and began to re-educate myself on healing. I began to have hope again.

I pick up my tote bag and go on my way to my appointment with Dr. Smith. 

And again I thought...

I'm on the same trajectory... 

~*~

Today, 7/01/21

Currently one of the books I'm reading is Cured: The Life-Changing Science of Spontaneous Healing by Jeffrey Rediger, M.D., published in 2020. As I read this morning about our amazing bodies and how the immune system and nervous system communicate and what scientists are currently learning about psychoneuroimmunology, I got soooooo excited. (I first read about psychoneuroimmunology in 2000 in the book Molecules of Emotion: The Science Behind Mind-Body Medicine by Candace B. Pert, Ph.D., published in 1997.)

As I sat cross-legged on the the floor, headlamp on my head, hardback book open in front of me, pages scribbled by my pen with notes in margins and paragraphs squigglied and sentences underlined... 

I stopped reading... 

Closed my eyes... 

And breathed in this new information letting it settle in my body and mind...  

Then... 

I lifted my arms into the air... 

Opened my eyes... 

Tilted my head toward the ceiling... 

And thanked whatever powers that be for this renewed hope...

I whispered aloud, "I'm on the same trajectory..."

I immediately called Hubby at work, knowing he may not be able to pick up the phone. But, he's the only person that would completely understand this hope and renewal as I felt it so biggly this morning. He's been with me for over 37 years. He answered and had time to listen and share and validate and rejoice in the moment with me...

I'm on the same trajectory....

In the first chronic-illness era (1982-2004), I got well...

Maybe it can happen again (2011 - ????)?

But even if it doesn't...

I'll have fun and rejoice along the journey...

~*~

Connection...

Some minutes ago, I powered up my laptop to compose some thoughts on life before the internet, before cell phones, before cordless phones, before central air. 

"Party lines" existed; one could listen in on their neighbor's phone calls. 

Folks opened windows for airflow through their homes; they could listen in on outside conversations and, Lord forbid, on inside talks if folks hollered loud enough and their windows too were open, or not.

We didn't lock the doors of our houses; anyone could walk right in. 

Anyway, when I powered up my laptop I discovered something I wrote a couple weeks ago about isolation and connection -- two subjects that tie right in with communication, now and past. 

I think folks were less isolated pastly than nowly. 

Life-past was lived mostly 3D, which of itself brings more connection; more senses are involved. 

~*~

June 15, 2020, thoughts...

Isolation

The marine vet

Raven Rock Overlook, 2019

He asked how I dealt with doing so much solo

How to live with a feeling of isolation

At the time I didn't have any concrete answers

Seems I may have said something about finding connection

Which I had found with nature

But now, I think I have a more concrete answer

Though part of it is embarrassing, but then not

Because I think it is probably an innate human response

Think Wilson in the movie Cast Away

Some may say,

"Carol, you haven't experienced isolation

You have a husband

You go out biking and meet people on your journeys"

These things are true

And I am thankful for them

I am married; I do not live alone

I often ride my bike and sometimes meet people

My isolation?

Around 2015 I had to, for the most part, drop our of social life

Fatigue was overwhelming

Due to my health adversities

Energy had to go into surviving another day

My isolation?

I've never met anyone, in 10 years, who has my medical condition

Which is a major factor in feeling isolated 

The closet have been folks with MS

But I don't have MS

And then, how many folks with MS ride a bicycle?

I've met one person  online

And he gets 'it' more than others, I think

'It''...how a person with atrophied muscles from inhibited nerve function

Can ride a bike

I used to feel I had to explain 'it' to everyone I met on the trail

And sometimes I did, if I had the cognitive function to do so

If not, I'd still try to have that conversation in my head

Probably more for explaining 'it' to myself

Processing

My isolation?

I left a cult in 2005

To which I'd been loyal for 28 years

To which I'd committed my money, time, soul, beliefs

Left behind those connections

But I found connections in the ex-and-anti-cult community

Some of those were reconnections with old friends

But then I left that community after I got falsely accused 

What a mess

I'd defended a guy on the anticult forum 

Who was falsely (or at least mistakenly) accused

I knew he was, because I was his supposed target for his supposed lies

Which weren't lies

Hubby and I even met 3D with the guy, multiple times

I later met 3D with the third party he had supposedly posed as in 2D

Which he hadn't 

Messy, messy

Later folks on a couple anticult forums were told I'd given the falsely-accused guy 

Access to the anticult's secret women's forum

And that I'd shared the women's secrets with him

I didn't do either of those things

I was guilty of telling the falsely-accused dude that a secret women's forum existed

Which I wasn't supposed to reveal

That was part of the agreement when a woman joined the forum

And I had hesitantly joined some months earlier

So I probably shouldn't have told the dude

But I did

I did tell someone on the forum I had done so

And asked their opinion if I should tell the forum administrator

They thought 'no'

And I agreed

So I didn't say anything

In hindsight

I wish I had

I also told the falsely-accused guy

That the guy who had falsely (or at least mistakenly) accused him

Had launched the secret forum for the women 

And that the launcher-accuser was the only male who had access

So the falsely-accused guy interpreted that as perverted

But I didn't think the launcher looked at the forum

Unless there was technical difficulty

I'm getting way off track here

Explaining back story

Which I'm not explaining well at all

It was messy and complicated

Soap opera style

Suffice it to say

I was kicked out of the secret women's forum 

And left the anti-cult forum

Outcast

From the cult

And now its anti-counterpart

Isolation 

Then I got involved in broader "cult-recovery"

With my then-mental health therapist

He called me an "activist"

I'd never considered myself an "activist" for anything

After two years

And still his client

He accused me of things

That I had no idea I had done 

Because I had not done them

But he was my mental health therapist

And I doubted my own perceptions

Could I actually be guilty of what he said?

He harmfully cut me off

Slash

After much deliberation and mental torment

And learning his behavior was a pattern

He'd done similar ten years prior

Before he had his counseling license

I filed a professional complaint

With his state licensing board

A year later

Therapist tried to smear my character online

Using outright fables based on my past

Which he knew well

Some people, many perhaps, believed him

Outcast

From the cult

From cult's anti-counterpart

And now the broader cult-recovery field

Isolation

But then 

Connection

One of Therapist's past clients contacted me

Therapist had harmed them in worse ways than I

They thanked me for filing the complaint

And following through

The ex-client was able to reconcile with a close relative

Whom the client had cut off

Due to Therapist's twisted analysis

And that made it all worth it

"It" being the complaint 

And the attempted smear

And all its repercussions

Internally and externally

But by the time "worth-it" had landed

Therapist's character smear of me

Had already done its damage

In the public arena

Fourteen months later I was a witness for the state  

At Therapist's state licensing board hearing

To which he didn't show

Another fourteen months later

Therapist's license was revoked

The ex-client again thanked me

Along with a few other folks

Who were privy to the situation

And who had experienced harm

At the therapist's emotional-lashings

And that was that

So, yeah 

I've had to live with isolation

At least the internal kind

And some external 

What helps me?

Let me list some ways...

Music and singing and dance

Connecting with the awe of nature

Befriending trees and wildlife

Talking life over with my self

Finding purpose in the smallest of things...

Like laying my parrot-print throw on the foot of our bed so that the parrots are flying out the window

Naming and talking with inanimate objects...

Adult Groot Art-o-mat block

Bicycles, Olivia and Blue

1999 Ford Explorer, Sir Edward

Rolling walker, The Phoenix

And (the most embarrassing) the bath back-brush

I haven't given the bath-brush a name. 

That feels I'm taking it a bit too far.

But who knows?

Whatever helps.

Almost daily, if not every day, I talk with

The magnificent creation of nature 

In which the circle of life happens

Expressing my deepest gratitude

Discovering connection is key...