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Oversensitive?
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Posted:Apr 28, 2012 6:40 pm
Last Updated:May 3, 2012 5:05 pm
2691 Views
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Are you hypersensitive? I am.
The least thing can upset me. That's just the way I am at present, and life has brought me to this point. Being aware of it, I can look at situations, and ask myself what was actually meant in that situation, and work out whether I was right to be all upset. Most times, I find that I became upset for no reason, and that helps me get over it.
Then there is hypersensitive to certain people.
During the last few years of my second marriage, I was incredibly hypersensitive to my then husband. The reason? We had been married for a long time, and somehow, my psyche had developed expectations, that I was totally unaware of. He'd say something, totally harmless, meant just as a comment. I'd take it as a criticism, and get really upset. He also reacted badly to totally innocent comments from me.
Because both of us seemed to develop this real sensitivity to each other, I noticed, and started to look at what might be going on.
You could say it was a combination of things, caused by many years of being together, and relying on each other for whatever it was that we relied on each other for. I am not going to in the direction of dependant/co-dependant/interdependent. We were married, and when you are married, if one of you is doing the dishes, the other needs to either dry them or go shopping, or mow lawns, or something else that needs doing. That's common sense.
He relied on me to bath the and put them to bed, so while I was doing that, I relied on him to cook and wash up. We negotiated these tasks, and I thought I was getting the good end of the stick. For some reason he thought he was getting the good end of the stick, so we were both happy in our roles. We also relied on the other to fulfil that role, or we'd be stuck with doing it. I relied on him going to work, and he relied on me doing housework, shopping, budgeting, paying bills, and getting it right. We had a system that I am not going to reveal, so that he could "check up" on me, although it had nothing to do with checking up. It was about ensuring that we had a kind of equality financially. On very rare occasions he'd ask me what I had done. I'd tell him, and he would say "fair enough". Sometimes I'd also ask him what he had done, because I had planned something and the funds weren't there. It would be "ok, that explains it".
After all those years, we trusted each other to do what was expected of us. If something was said about us, I think it was a case of doesn't the other one trust us? Only once I started examining what was said, firstly by me to him, and I knew that I was not trying to offend him in any way. I was just stating things as they were, or if you like, as I saw them. I'd see his reaction, and I'd say something to the effect of no, it wasn't meant that way. I only meant...
When I started reacting to what he was saying, I was aware that he had reacted to things I had said, and that I had reacted to things that he had said, and so I asked myself, ok, what did he actually say? Then I'd ask myself, what did he mean by that? Then I'd ask myself if this was actually what he meant, or whether I was misunderstanding.
What I found was, that even though what he said was innocent, a comment, or a statement, I was taking things as criticisms, because for some reason I was incredibly sensitive to what he said.
Nobody else could upset me in the same way. If he said, "you're looking a touch pale today", it would be what do you mean by that? why are you picking on me? . . . .blah blah. Yet, if anyone else had said it, I'd take it to mean I was looking a bit pale! When he said it, I was taking it to mean, "you should have done something to make yourself look your normal colour, not all washed out like you look right now!" Yet he had said nothing of the sort, and that was happening with both of us, an incredible hypersensitivity!
Once I became aware of that, I realised that I had to be very careful what I said to him, and then if he reacted badly, to be very careful to resolve the issue, right there and then, and not let it be misunderstood and as a result taken to heart and then become a festering emotional sore.
In the same way, I had to look at what he said to me, if I felt upset, and look at what it actually meant, or if you like, how I'd react if someone else had said it, and what I would understand if someone else had said it, and then look at the situation and how he had said it, and what he had actually meant, not what I took it to mean. Once I did that, I wasn't upset anymore.
So life progressed in this fashion from this time on.
Since then, I have found that when I cared about a particular man, this situation arose very quickly, and I was amazed. However I also knew how much I cared about this particular man, and I knew that I just had to work harder to make sure things didn't get out of hand, only they did, because I wasn't very together at this time, being after my dramas.
I know that I have reacted in a similar way to "friends" in recent times, and I have had to look at myself and what is going on.
Unfortunately, I have been at a time of life, when one overreacts, misunderstands, and a host of other stupid things, that become extremely embarrassing if anyone says anything about our behaviour. I do hope it passes before too long, as it can be quite distressing to watch myself behave in what I consider childish ways.
So, I am hypersensitive. I do hope for your sake, you are not, as it's not the greatest condition. How do you stay friends with people you have trusted, if you overreact to what they say or do, and as a result become alienated? This is very good reason to sometimes let go, rather than hold a grudge. It just makes things easier, when you end up not knowing if you should be upset or not.
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...and I am back again
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Posted:Apr 27, 2012 10:56 pm
Last Updated:Apr 28, 2024 7:2 am
2208 Views
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Hello again. I have been busy, both last night and today.
I will have to go back outside and adjust the chain on the chainsaw, as the silly thing jammed while I was working. I wasn't taking any risks, so I did leave it until today. Sometime soon, I will go out there and see what I can do to release the chain, and make it the correct tension again. It should be quite easy to fix. I am so glad I didn't try yesterday afternoon, as my mind just wasn't going there.
Only once I was away from it and calm, it was a piece of cake to work out how to resolve it, so soon I will be back chainsawing again, only I do suspect that it will be with more relish, as I am getting used to it, and haven't cut any limbs off yet.  There is hope!
I don't want to cut any bits off, love all my bits, yep, every tiny bit of me!
Today seems to have disappeared on me. By the time I did a few basics, and then took a rather long phone call, and as a result was totally sidetracked, checking out motorscooters online, and ringing about them, and as a result going and looking at a nice one .. . by the time all that happened, it was now! I still want to go out and mess with the chainsaw! It will be dark before too long, so I had better get out there just about now.
Catch you next time!
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Time to get busy!
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Posted:Apr 26, 2012 11:11 pm
Last Updated:Apr 28, 2024 7:2 am
2299 Views
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Oh ohh, it's that time of year again.
It's getting colder here, and today we had a beaut frost, one that made you feel it's cold outside . . and for some reason I had the fire going nearly all yesterday and last night - not very wise if you don't have more firewood to replace what you are using up.
So the good news is that I did trim some trees in summer. I did get someone in to trim a tree away from the building, so that it wouldn't let the rats in - not that that would absolutely stop them, only there don't seem to be any rats at present.
So, with wood waiting to be cut up, and the only way I will achieve that is to attempt "chainsawing102", I suspect that as soon as I get the courage, I will have to go out there . . unsupervised, and start doing some serious cutting up. This will relieve the rat issue, as there will no longer be all the open spaces for them to hide in. It will mean that I can move the wood into the shed, instead of leaving huge branches lying around on top of each other in one massive pile of mess.
Please don't pick on me. This is something I really wasn't ready for ever. I never had any intention of picking up a block splitter, nor an axe, nor any other kind of wood cutting implement, except perhaps for craft purposes. I never ever had any intentions of acquiring any kind of wood, other than for some kind of project around home, if anything, and then, it was all going to be limited to necessity, or real beginners things like a crude table or something similar.
The facts are as follows. I moved here without thought to heating other than easy as! On arrival I found a wood fire. My reaction was Huh??? (Thought you'd guess that.) Then I found out that electric heating was now way too dear.
Step two was light the fire, as there was a bit of wood here at the time, not much. I grabbed some of the wood, lugged it into the place and discovered "this is heavy!". Ooops! Then I tried to light the fire, and I tried a bit more, and I tried again, and I tried and tried and tried. Sometimes I'd sort of get it started, and then it would go out. It took at least two men telling me what to do, or if you like how to light a fire, a very large quantity of firelighters, newspapers, time, and patience.
One day I finally sort of mastered the art of lighting a fire. Then recently I discovered I was a total idiot, and you could say I learned the missing link in my chain, which was why so often my fire would fail, and it was only sheer coincidence that made me find out.
I just happen to have been chatting with a man who actually knows his chemistry/physics, as in he knows his elements and that "periodic table" that I should know, and even how to calculate the formulae. Yep, someone who knows his stuff. I told him how I had gone out shopping for a fire grate, and given up in the end.
We just happened to spend some time together around a fire, as it was minus a few at the time. The fire was already built while I hadn't been watching, only he found the grace to talk about it.
Initially I wasn't taking anything in, totally confused, and then I started to take in some very important information that allows one to build a fire, really basic stuff, that really had never sort of risen to the consciousness, so that I could take it into account, and I felt like a total dill brain, as it had been said in different words previously.
Only I have a saying, that "I don't think because it hurts". Well not quite, however if it's beyond, yep, that's the answer, I tend not to bother a lot of the time, as I have lots of answers inside, and that won't work if you are learning new things, so I consult people. Only again, that doesn't work when you are on your own, as I have been a lot of the time for quite a few years now.
So that's the fire building mastered at last. Then there is this other thing, fuel. It costs money, well not the newspapers, not the ones I get anyway. However the firestarters, matches or gas lighters, and any other bits all cost money, including buying wood. For several years, I relied on others supplying my wood, as there was no money for it at all. One day it really wasn't working out anymore, as I was now once again relying on my mother to finance my wood supplies, and having her fund my needs really needs to stop. She has been my mainstay over the last years, as I really wasn't together enough to work things out and live within my means. Now I am starting to stand on my own two feet, as I realise how much I relied on her.
Back to the subject. So the second issue was supplying my own wood, and last year I paid for my first lot, and then the bottom fell out of everything when my mechanic gave me a bill that was just way more than I had the resources to pay. Only it was in retrospect, so last year, somehow, and I have no idea how, I managed with about one trailer of wood. That is really not enough, just I had no resources to get more.
I decided to sell the car to allow me to register my little truck. Then I could go get wood, and I had already acquired a regular chainsaw. (I have just about sold the car for a lot less than I wanted to.) In the meantime I have worked out a cheaper way of getting around when I don't have any commitments such as a passenger or a load of wood (or other). Some time in the hopefully not too distant future I will acquire my first motor-scooter, nice and not too powerful, and join the world of temporary drivers, because it will be more affordable than the car.
Issue three. With the purchased wood, I found some bits were way too big, so I had to split them, and I did that sort of ok with a blocksplitter. I had an axe at one stage, only that's gone at the moment. To use the blocksplitter, I didn't swing it. I hammered it through the wood. It does work, as you tend not to miss, just in the great scheme of things, it's a touch woossy.
Issue four. Some lumps of wood were too long, not just too round, and they needed something else, so one day I acquired an electric chainsaw for next to nothing, making it an option financially. I taught myself to use that, and only used it in crisis, when there was no other way, as there was this thing with the cord, and then there was the other thing that it was a chainsaw, and I had no idea. A lot of the time, I'd get someone else to resolve the problem for me, either having the wood cut shorter before I received it, or something similar.
In the meantime, I had watched a chainsaw lesson when I was out somewhere. It was either watch the lesson, or go home. I decided I could watch, because I didn't have to touch the tool.
Then one day I walked into a shop when I had a few dollars in my pocket and discovered a chainsaw that was in my budget, so I grabbed it. Then I took it home and looked at it for a long time, until one day someone came over to do something for me. I asked if he would mind supervising me in "chainsawing101". He said no prob, and did. He instructed me to go outside and cut up some thin branches, so I did, no drama. Only it's me that has to make sure it has bar oil, and the right mix of fuel. I have to check it has enough of both. I have to remember how to start the thing, and it all seems so complicated.
Consider, all I ever heard was how I could cut my leg off, or my arm or my head off, and how dangerous the things are. This is to a woman on the pension for severe traumas, so of course I was scared. ... yep, I am not going to use that word, only I suspect I was that scared.
So, issue five, get out there and use the ... chainsaw! Um, if it's from me, the swear word would be very mild. and of course pictures of bodily fluid come to mind as I think of it, and I connect it all to "chainsaw massacre!" Oh dear.
Meanwhile the fire feels rather lacking in heat. Maybe it's out. I will check. Lucky, another log on it, and it's ok for now. Only I need to get out there and get more in.
I also need to do what normal people do, prepare meals, wash clothes, do dishes, vacuum, dust, clean walls and the list goes on, plus outside.
Only I do pretty much all the maintenance here, as if I don't do it, it does not get done. If it's broken, it's me who has to fix it, no matter what the item, and the pension makes that non-negotiable. Only there is this slight issue, that even if I do everything, there is not enough money for all the materials, and the cost of living on top. Then there are a few other issues, like I am not a plumber or electrician, just I do have my electrical basics, and I am mechanically minded. That means that I can work out that if I have a nut, bolt, and a spanner or two, yep, I can work out how to use them to hold something together. (That was a cheeky grin.)
There is never enough money, so I revert to making things when I want them, be that cooked, sewn, or crafted somehow. It's how it has to be, and in between all of that, I am supposed to find time out, to allow myself to heal from my dramas, so there is always some intensive game playing on my computer, as in daily. There is some serious blogging, almost daily, and at least daily reading of other blogs, and responding to usually at least one of them all. Then there is searching online for information, so a lot of time gets spent at the computer, partly because it gives me time out, partly because it's good to read other people's opinions, and not think I am the only one. It's good to check my emails in case there is something that brightens my day, and some do.
There are lots of positives about coming to the computer, only if I want pastry, I tell myself I have to make it, as it's so much cheaper if I make it. It's also a lot healthier to cook without lots of artificial additives or the occasional allergen that will cause trouble.
You can't cook pastry while sitting at the computer. The chainsaw doesn't check the oil or mix its' own fuel, and definitely doesn't fire up and do the job, so right now, I am thinking at least get out there and start the thing if I do nothing else today out there. Maybe I can cut up just a bit of wood, so I don't feel like a totally useless person. (Uh, I know I am not useless at all.)
So I guess I need to go.
Wish me luck! I suspect I am still worth not having to live short one limb, so I will be careful. Thank you to those who care, and hugs back to some of you, those who know I am sending hugs back to you.
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It was Anzac Day . . .
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Posted:Apr 25, 2012 7:36 pm
Last Updated:May 27, 2012 10:14 pm
2495 Views
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Downunder, it was Anzac Day yesterday, and to Australians, it can mean a lot. It really depends on the person. I am not going into that here.
For me, it was a day that I felt I need to participate in, so once up and almost moving, I made the effort to make myself presentable, and have something in my stomach to survive until I came home.
It took me too long, and I was distressed that it had started by the time I arrived. It had probably only just started, as I wasn't really late at all. Once I arrived, I tiptoed nice and quietly until I just felt I didn't want to go any further. There was someone I knew, so I stood next to her, and listened.
The usual transpired, the hymns and the speakers who had done great things, some silence in memory of the fallen, and then it was over. That's only the way it was done here this year. It can vary with the location, and the population, as well as the whims of the organisers. When they sang the second hymn, I imagined my singing it, and of course, that brought the tears. She has a voice that can just break a heart, or bring tears of sheer delight. Either way, she can make a listener cry.
Once I had brought tears to my eyes, I was a goner, and next thing my tears were streaming down, as I reminisced over past Anzac Days, and it just made me so sad, and the tears poured, so it was good when I met another lady, who was going home now. We walked, chatted, and of course the tears stopped as I focussed on our conversation.
The afternoon passed in a sad blur, and then I felt a need to go to the shops for something related to dinner. Once down there, the tears came back, after I was asked something. It was quite strange, as I chatted to three people who work there, and have become more like friends over time, sharing this and that, and the tears were really threatening badly again. I really needed to go home, so I could just cry. Of course, once home, I was so busy with dinner and TV, that the tears vanished.
I have been so busy this morning that my tears didn't get a chance to come back. Maybe something positive happened in dreamland.
Yesterday, I had woken up to memories of a dream in which this place was burgled, and there was a broken window and other damage. I was distressed when I awoke, and maybe that had something to do with the miseries during the day.
I just realised how symbolic that dream was in relation to that blog I wrote the other day! Wow!
I remember a few happy Anzac Days, because of the company I was in. Yesterday it was cloudy, miserable, and just as cold as today. Only today the sun has come out, and it's not bleak, so it's a lot better.
As I have things I still want to achieve before too much time passes, I do need to go and work on those things.
I do hope all is good in your world.
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A note
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Posted:Apr 23, 2012 5:27 am
Last Updated:Apr 27, 2012 10:45 pm
2589 Views
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There might be bad men on this site. There might even be awful men. I don't tend to meet them through here, or anywhere else online.
Pretty much all the bad or not nice men in my life were met out there in the real world.
The men I met here were of the highest quality, the nicest men, just there were issues that I did not check into prior to meeting them. I do know what the issues were, and haven't met any men since I worked that out.
There was a slight glitch in this formula, as since I met both the man of my dreams, and the love of my life, any other man will seem like less than the best; so I really don't see any point in worrying about meeting anything other than men I see as potential friends these days.
I did meet a great love of my life through here, and I was in the wrong emotional place when we met. He didn't see me for what I am. I was not myself and presented very differently to what I normally am.
The man of my dreams decided that I was "in love" with him, and has never bothered to really find out what I am. He has only ever made assumptions about me based on the most minimal information. As a result he is now in my past.
I accept all of that, and if I make contact with a man, he needs to be aware that it is most likely nothing more than civil or friendly, as once a relationship is in my past, I tend to be nice, and nothing else. I work hard at putting any past relationship in the never to be touched again basket, as I know the heartbreak caused by pursuing what you can't have.
Like many others, my heart has been fractured once too often. I don't think these would have had the effect they had, if I had not lost my home through the actions of a man a few years ago, and soon after had a really precious man die suddenly a week after he told me he loved me.
It's not a case of I will never go there. That's an assumption. It's just that it will take a lot to go there again, because like most others, each time I love someone new, I do love him more than I have loved any other in my past, whether he deserves my love or not.
It really pays to sift out men who don't quite fit the "glove" that will match me, and then only get to know the ones that fit that mould.
That way when we do get attached, it can be counted as a "right" relationship, and not a waste.
Recently I made friends with a few men who seem really nice. They all seem to be in time out, or maybe even gone, for whatever reason. It's fine. That's the beauty of only making friends. When they disappear, it doesn't usually hurt at all.
Something I don't mention these days as a rule. I do love my friends, and usually quite a lot, in the nicest way. That is nothing like being in love, and it does not mean it's not possible to cross from that into in love, however for that to happen would take a lot, involving two people, both the man and me, not just me or him.
I do not believe in "one way streets" and won't walk them. I only go down "two way streets", so when men think that I am in love with them, and I am saying, no I am not, I get really frustrated and annoyed, to the point that I can get annoyed enough to just walk away for good.
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I didn't suffer much at all! In memorium . .
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Posted:Apr 21, 2012 9:34 pm
Last Updated:Sep 17, 2012 4:28 am
5738 Views
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It's a long time ago, and I think it's time I shared about a lady, a mother of five, who deserves some recognition, even if only in the past.
She was married at the time, with at least one baby, having five under about five years of age. Her husband worked at a good job, and she had a dishwasher. They were "happy". One day, it seems they went a local hotel, and from there, she was "kidnapped", literally.
Let me share a touch about her. This lady was not tall at all. She was tiny in height. She was also rather cuddly in stature, and she loved a good miniskirt. She also liked her makeup to be brighter than bright. Add blonde hair, and a touch of a limp in her gait, and this is the lady who was kidnapped this day.
Her assailant deliberately chose the shortest, seemingly most vulnerable lady he could find to be his victim.
She didn't share how he managed to get her from there to another street quite a distance away. I don't think anyone knows. However once there, out in the street, he proceeded to her, not once, over and over, and he headed down this street, quite a distance, as he took her pretty much the length of the street to a railway station.
Yes, this story is horrific. The man dragged her by the hair, by her arm, by her leg, whichever part of her body was closest to his hand at the time, and proceeded to her over and over. I am not sure that he was fussy about what part was either.
The outcome for her was that she drifted in and out of consciousness during this incident. People did see what was happening, and heard her screams when she did scream. Nobody reported what was happening. All stayed behind closed doors.
Her ordeal lasted quite a while. As I heard this straight from her a few years later, I can only share what I know. I also happen to have read the newspaper story about this incident at the time it happened.
By the time he "dumped" her, and yes, basically left her for dead. Remember, I said she drifted in and out of consciousness? By the time he dumped her, her dress was covered in blood from above the waist to the hem. As this had to be tendered in evidence, a photo of the dress was shown in the newspaper.
She told me the offenders name, and I said "you're kidding!" She said no. I said, I know his sister, as I went to school with her. I said, I met her brother, this being the offender. His mother and sister warned me to stay away from him. They said he was strange, and could hurt me. I did see what he looked like, and had been quickly ushered away from where he was in the kitchen, where I had only just been. As a result my visit was short, and I never visited my friend's home again. I shared with the victim, how the sister was the nicest young /lady, and had the happiest sweetest nature. I was saying how I could not understand how her brother could be like that.
The victim said "don't you ever let him near me!" I said isn't he in jail? She said, yes, he's in jail, but he'll be out . .. I said oh, and I was a touch mortified, as I realised what a man like that could do once free again. That was horrifying.
It all gets worse. After this incident, no doubt she spent some time at the hospital, and eventually went home to her husband and .
ONLY. .. . now, she didn't want to be touched, would jump if her husband touched her, didn't want sex, would shrink away, and over time, he lost patience, and he started her, as he had not had sex for so long. He even started beating her up! She loved her , would do anything for them. She needed space, a chance to try and deal with what was happening, so she did the only thing she could do, left home. At the time she was estranged from her parents and at least one sibling, so she had no choice but to make her own way. She headed interstate, and of course not knowing people there, made her vulnerable again.
She headed somewhere one night, and a carload of young men picked her up, took her to a party, and gang banged her, and then dumped her somewhere, leaving her for dead.
She developed photo-sensitivity, became hyper-terrified, and would not go out in broad daylight. In time, she headed back towards her , as she missed them, and wanted to see them. Only when she returned it got nasty. He went for custody of the , blaming her for leaving them.
She had to deal with all of this, and around this time, she met me. She was smoking about four packets of fifty cigarettes per day. When she shared all of this with me, I was totally empathetic, as I had only recently suffered my first divorce and the dramas associated with that.
I was frustrated by her love of miniskirts. I was frustrated by her incredibly bright makeup, especially the lipstick, as I knew that by toning these things down, she could reduce the potential of being a victim again.
I also made a point of taking her out, anywhere that I could, so she could have a life too. Only I was recently married, and found it really hard to be there for her as time passed.
We did take her out fishing one day, and made a really fun day of it. She found that she could trust my new husband. It was hard to achieve, as she was photosensitive, and really terrified, even of going from where she lived to my car, and then back in, and meeting my husband. We did manage it, and on another occasion I even managed to take her out one night. She drank too much, and I felt she embarrassed herself by her behaviour, drawing a lot of attention to herself by being happy, and feeling safe with me there to both watch over her, and drive her home safely.
I did take her home, and after I went home, I shared with my new husband. I told him about what had happened, and how I found it so hard. Around this time I became pregnant, and kept in touch with her throughout my pregnancy, and for a while after the baby was born, only it was hard to be there for her. She'd ring me for up to four hours per day, sharing with me, chatting away, and over time that became harder.
One day I took my young baby with me and visited her, and we chatted lightly. I watched how she constantly smoked, those four packets a day of fifty! I watched how she wasn't eating properly, and saw that she was pretty much killing herself slowly. Having discussed the situation with my husband, this visit was with a purpose. This wasn't my first visit, as I had been there a few times previously. She asked to change my babies nappy when it needed changing. I understood and let her. We chatted about her whole situation, and I did my usual, asking her if there was anything she felt she could do to improve her situation, and probably made at least one suggestion, for her to look at. There was nothing she felt she could do, just she was trying to get accommodation much closer to her . I agreed that this was a good idea, and the access thing etc. It was all quite sensible.
Then I shared with her, about how the new baby took up all my time, and I needed time to do housework, and was finding it hard to adapt to my new life. I shared how I could no longer take her four hour phone calls. I said I am really sorry. I have to stop seeing you. My life has changed since I met you. She said I understand and cried, as I ended up doing too, for her.
I didn't see her for a few years. Then one day I was at the local shopping centre and there she was. I was amazed. I was now separated from that new husband, so that's a few years between sightings. She was standing on a "ramp" above my level, as in about a metre away from me uphill. She was holding a two litre bottle of cordial, and we chatted, catching up a bit. I am not sure what was said. I just remember what happened, as it was so characteristic of her whole situation.
For some reason, she accidentally dropped her cordial, and the bottle broke on the floor, just "above" where she was standing, and the green cordial flowed between her legs along the ground, as if she had wet herself. Only she hadn't, and she just looked so pathetic, I almost felt like crying. It just was so representative of everything about her, like just no hope!
She immediately asked if I could spare two dollars to replace her cordial. I felt awful, so I gave it to her, said, I'm sorry, I just can't be there for you right now, and disappeared as fast as I could.
At a later time, I did look for her, finding her mother, and asking to make contact. Her mother gave me her phone number, and every now and then I'd get in touch or visit. Only by this stage, she was in and out of hospital, because she had developed a condition called pancreatitis, from when her husband had been hitting her in the stomach. In six months, she had been in and out of hospital over and over, and at one stage for three months. During one attack of pancreatitis, she had clinically died six times on the operating table, before they finally brought her back.
Of course she ended up staying for about six months this time, and only got to go home for a bit of time away from hospital. I started a touch of contact with her mother, and somehow, her mother organised for the to visit their mother in hospital, and then one or two of them would stay at her place when she was home for a bit.
I think it was about three months later, she was allowed home one weekend, and they didn't make her go back to hospital this time, somewhere around Christmas. She still smoked like a chimney, and I visited with my . I wished I had not taken him. She was sitting on the lounge, unable to open the front door, and her had let me in. While I was there, she had a bucket, and was being sick into it while I was watching. She had a smoke, and just lived through the whole thing.
If ever I was depressed by a situation, this one dragged me right down. I think it was one of the worst situations I have ever experienced. It wasn't the sick. My and others had been sick at various times. It wasn't the smoking. Others had smoked way too much. It was the way, she just kept smoking, just kept going as if there was nothing wrong, the way that things just looked so awfully pitiful all around her, the way it was always like there would never be a tomorrow. It was just her whole situation, and how she was slowly killing herself, and I knew it, and I knew not to say a thing.
Soon after, I tried to make contact again, as I had been very concerned that day. I could not get an answer to her front door. I couldn't get an answer on the phone, so in the end I tried her mother. Her mother said she was in the hospital, just around the corner from me. I rang there wanting to visit her there then, and was put onto the ward. There the nurse/sister who answered the phone asked me a few questions, and then she said, she has been in here for about five days. "I am sorry, she died this morning." I said "you're kidding!" I said "ok, I'll have to ring her mother, and find out when the funeral is on". She let me go.
I rang her mother, and found out about the funeral. I attended her funeral, and her were all there, and they were crying so much. I am tearing up right now for them. I missed a tiny bit. I did ask the cause of death, expecting it to be pancreatitis. It was emphysemia, from her smoking, which I should have expected.
She had had so many things wrong with her as a result of the abuse she had suffered. Her had not been seeing her, and before she died, all of her five had seen her in some way, and I do mean visited her. One, perhaps her oldest, had had real difficulty being there for her, and at last he had seen her.
If you want to feel sad or sorry for someone, feel for this woman, and even more for her motherless young adult , as they were pretty much young adults when she died.
If you want to remember, remember how her life was totally destroyed by literally one man, her first assailant. Until then her life had been normal, and this day her life was destroyed.
I am lucky, most of my really bad things happened in my youth. I have an old age to look forward to, because I have never given up. I don't want to give up. I want to live the old age, that I believe can be mine. I just have to be patient and trust that it will happen.
For me, I have felt that my road has been long and hard, only it has been easy compared to some.
And that is the way I see it.
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Drinkies . . anyone?
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Posted:Apr 20, 2012 7:07 am
Last Updated:Jun 29, 2013 10:27 pm
3034 Views
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First a small sidetrack. I love that word drinkies. I heard it in a lovely British accent a few years ago now, and I have used the word ever since, as it suggest delight, pleasure and fun. A bit of triple dipping here!
Ok, it's a few years back that I had my first drink. Perhaps it's even a few more.
I have memories of - I can't believe this now, it's an incredible admission, anyway, here goes - going into the dining or lounge room after my grandparents visited on a Sunday, and I think this may have happened when a few others visited also. The ladies had drunk an advocat, yes the egg one. I suppose that you could call that egg brandy, if advocat is a brand name. It's the only name I ever knew it by. They drank this drink out of tiny glasses, and there were always plenty of traces of the drink. Being a , maybe that's it, have no concept of germs or something. . . being a , I'd get the glasses, poke my tongue in them, and lick all the traces clean. Then I'd put the glasses in the wash-up, oh, soaking of course.
Doesn't that just sound so gross!!! YUK!! How could I! It was only a few short years later that I was totally paranoid about germs, just goes to show.
Ok, after work, my "Daddy" would have the usual beer, as many men did, and of course at some stage, I asked what it was. He told me and I asked for a taste. He told me it was for grown ups, and I could only have a sip, so that's what I had. Then each day I'd ask for a sip. I didn't even like the stuff. It's just the way my parents reacted at the time. Uh, having said that, I think on a hot summer's day it seemed to have a touch of a cooling effect, and it was way better than that super sweet lemonade!
Ok, so the sips started small, and by the time I was a young , I'd be trying to empty the glass in one go. Don't blame me. I am just sharing. Uh, this is the same family where Mum went to church and took me there with her, almost every Sunday. Mmm.
So if you like, that's how it all started. As I reflect, I do realise that the only drink that wasn't super sweet besides water was indeed Dad's beer. All the cordials were way too sweet, just like the lemonade. It does explain why I liked my "sip" of beer back then.
Then it gets interesting. At some stage, I seem to have developed an allergy to beer, and by the age of sixteen, it could put me to sleep, or that's how I felt about it anyway. I may be wrong here. This may actually be related to a specific event, which I have not shared yet. It's the sort of event, that's really hard to share, so I just haven't.
Ok, so now all of a sudden, I can no longer drink beer. If I do, I can have a half a glass, and after that, I am in trouble, acting as if I had had several or more. Strange. Only if I relate it back to a specific event, it does make perfect sense.
I was a normal sixteen year old, or at least I think I was. If the opportunity arose to drink, then I did, and as I was suddenly allowed to go out, having moved from Mum's to Dad's pretty much overnight at one stage, I cannot say my drinking was very responsible. I had rules, and I broke them, easily. (I had made rules a few years earlier, that I would not drink to excess, that I would not drink before dinner, except on special occasions, and not before five pm.)
I now found myself breaking the "to excess" rule a few times, just like any other . Mind you, it turned out that excess meant pretty much more than two glasses of wine back then. There was this one wine, that the young men loved getting us young ladies to drink, and it was a touch like port. . . .I can't think of the name of it, as it was so long ago. I keep remembering duck, and a colour red, pink, purple or something, and none of the colours sound right anymore, so I cannot remember the name we used for it, just that it was supposed to be really good, and quite effective.
I must have had it at some time, and I have forgotten that too. What I have never forgotten, is getting drunk three times in a few short years. By the time I was married at seventeen, I am pretty sure I had been drunk more than once. After the third time, I was pretty sure I really didn't like getting drunk, so I worked at ensuring I became tiddly, and then paced myself for the rest of any evening.
Only after the awful start to that marriage, all I wanted was to forget and drown my sorrows, and since it seemed that it was ok to have lots of drinkies, that's what I did, started the evening with roughly a shot of rum, and the rest of the glass Cola. By the end of the evening, I could see the bottom of the bottle, and I was drinking most of a glass of rum, and a shot of cola with it. That's how it was for several months. I have a suspicion I shared my story about that night in another blog. Not to worry. It's sad.
One morning I woke up without a full memory of the evening's proceedings. I walked into the lounge room, and there was the base of a parfait glass on the floor. For some reason my then husband was home. I asked him, what happened? How did that get there?
He said: 'You sat on it' HUH??? How???? Anyway, he suggested that I was becoming an alcoholic, and I didn't like that concept at all, so I decided to pretty much quit drinking from that moment on, except for special occasions. I even became annoyed when there were too many special occasions sometimes, because my drinking was down to one or two, for Christmas, my birthday, and I think perhaps Easter. That was it, and stayed that way until I met the second husband.
Now he wasn't doing anything basically wrong. Back then, most of society had this drinking culture, that pretty much said that unless you kill someone, it's ok to drink as much as you . . . . well want. Mmm. Only that thought terrified me, that a person could get into a car under the influence, and drive straight through a red light at high speed, without looking for other traffic, or if they did look, they didn't see. I was in the car a few times as a passenger when this happened. Mhmm. It's why I worried so much.
Anyway, I met the potential husband, and it was "how about you have a drink to calm you down?" "Here, have a drink, give yourself a break. You need it", and within a few short years, almost every night of the week was drinkies night. It was scary. We never drank and drove. If we were out, one would drink and the other drive. We wouldn't start drinking until the were at least in bed, or asleep. It wasn't an issue that was affecting the rest of our lives. It was just an issue for me, because I was scared in case I could not give up, or ended up drinking more and more over time. I really wanted more control over my drinking. I did discuss it with the then husband. We did do things to keep a lid on the situation.
Then one New Years Eve, I drank far too much, and when I found myself still alive the next day. I was really disappointed, and that's when I knew that I had a real problem. My way of dealing with that problem was to leave that marriage. Then I celebrated that I didn't have to drink anymore.
I pretty much stopped drinking except when I wanted to have a drink, and for quite a while, that wasn't very often. There were people who didn't know I drank at all, a bit like my smoking. As I only had about seven cigarettes most days, many people never saw me smoke, as I'd go somewhere, have a smoke before I showered at home, and then not have another cigarette until I went home, or my next meal time, or it three hours had already passed.
I would not let a man know that I drink before we met. I'd act as if I didn't drink. Once I had met him, and I felt safe, that's when I'd consider drinking in his company. That's how it was for several years.
Now a few years back, that changed, when I moved to a town that gets so cold in winter that it's frightening if you are not used to it. I found that in winter, the only way I would not notice the cold, was if I had a bit of something as warm as drinkie inside me, so now I found myself having at least one drink every evening in winter, before I went to sleep. I wasn't really happy at the time, so one could become two or three.
Once summer returned, I'd return to my normal modus operandi, which was basically have a few on Saturday night, and it was ok to get tiddly if I did. It was also good if I had no more than two.
Another thing I did was check how much "a glass" was. If I was drinking this wine, a glass was so much, and if that, it was different, so I made sure that if nothing else, I knew how much a "glass" was of the drink that I was into. I have stayed with that.
Then I met a man who would ring me really late at night, so late, that by the time he rang, I had already had at least one or two drinkies. This distressed me, and next thing I knew, I was having three, four, and in the end, while we were on the phone, I'd say, "I am having number ..." whichever it was. I was worried sick, and I have no idea why I could not explain the problem to him. I was never able to explain it. Uh, I was on the pension for trauma, totally traumatised??? Sometimes, I amaze myself at my own lack of understanding. Uh, it's pretty hard to be able to do anything when you are severely emotionally damaged, and I have amazed myself over and over since my dramas at just how bad I was.
Back to the subject. Over time, the amount I was drinking concerned me deeply, and he really had no idea as to how worried I was about this. I did all sorts of strange things to try and lessen the amount I drank in the end, as I was really scared that I'd end up drinking myself into a place from which there is no escape, terrified.
I ended up raising the subject with him, and the results were not good. Over time, it just became my worst nightmare, to the point that I ended up saying, if you haven't rung me by eleven pm, it's too late, and you can't ring me. I need to at least be heading for bed by eleven, and it's ok if we are already on the phone, only I don't want a phone call after that time. I wouldn't start drinking until ten pm, so then I had only had one or two by eleven. This didn't work and it all just seemed an incredible nightmare, that was never going to end, the drinking part, nothing else.
I was just really scared that I could lose control. Our relationship had deteriorated over time, as he had no concept of how damaged I was when we met. I was able to be there for him with his issues, and our relationship made me a lot better than if I had not had the relationship, only the drinking thing and other issues between us were really undermining everything, and sending me back into the place where I had been when I met the man, or even before that.
One day, he visited me for my birthday, only he didn't arrive when he said. It seems that I relaxed him so much, that instead of heading here around nine am, he slept until lunchtime. Mm. Then he spent less than twenty four hours here, and headed for another ladies home in another area, and stayed there for several days.
HMMMM! After that day, I drank every night of the year. I had no control anymore, and for a long time, was happy if I had less than four drinks a night, because I could accidentally finish about half a bottle without trying, uh, that's a seventeen drink bottle.
OK?? So I felt that I had a problem, and I felt that I had to work really hard to deal with it. Yes, many nights I only had two or three, only there were a few nights when I had more. That was my issue. I just wanted to regain control, and have never felt I really have control since. The good news is that I did go away a few times for at least one night, and when I went away, I did not drink. I just made it my rule like before, that when I wasn't home, I would not drink, because I was driving. Even today, I am careful to not drive unless I am sure that I am sober enough to pass any test.
I really value my license. I am aware of the residual effect that alcohol can have. I know how much one drink of what I drink is, because if it says seventeen drinks on the bottle, then I need to divide the capacity of the bottle by seventeen to arrive at the measure that one glass holds. I have done that, and found a suitable glass, that even when I really fill it, only holds one glass full of drinkie, so if I say that I had one drink, I really did have only one drink, and so on.
I had disagreements with the man who went and visited that woman. For a long time, we still kept in touch, and often in disagreement, as I could not begin to tell him my issues. I was always too distraught by everything in relation to him. The more I tried, the worse it became. I just wasn't meant to resolve this one.
This is not the first time this has happened to me. It used to happen to me as a all the time. I'd like a boy, and all hell would break loose, as I was just this "". I have no idea how to explain it, except to say that it's really not a good look for me to try with a male.
It's not clever for me to try with any male ever, as it always goes against me.
So now you know. That is why the normal me does not waste too much time on any one man. Yes, I will get in touch with him today, then him, then him, and over a week or two, I might make contact with more than four, even up to about a dozen males, and not feel attached or obliged to any of them. I don't believe in putting myself in a situation where the man makes me feel like I am somehow chasing him, so I just don't.
That's another reason to have a drink. Only, I want this to stop. Tonight, I have not had a drink, and it's nearly midnight. This is not the first time. These days I have often gone without a drink until I was actually heading for sleep. Then I might have one, and go to sleep.
I like the me that doesn't need a drink. I like the me that has it together. I like the normal me, and haven't seen her for a number of years now. I really want that normal me back, and I just seem so damaged, that all the diet is not fixing it, all the rest and R and R is just not resolving my issues.
But then how many people find themselves targeted as if they were some awful person when they move to a home that they had no idea was so cursed? However, by the time I am done, this place will not be cursed, as I will have resolved it. I am way too determined to ever fail in this. I will get there, and then I can focus on me again, and getting myself over my garbage.
I can only do one thing at a time, and I am working on it.
All the best to you in your life.
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I am green with envy!!!!
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Posted:Apr 18, 2012 3:28 am
Last Updated:Jun 29, 2013 10:31 pm
2761 Views
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"ooh lalalaa ooh lalalaa, you're my ooh lalalaa . . . man"
Oh Wow! I suspect I am the same size as her! Just I can't begin to put my body on public display like that, because . . .
my name is not Imbi, and I'm not from Picton!
oh it takes guts! and she has them!
They say if you've got it, flaunt it, only can't we stick to flaunting the boobs, and subtly disguising the tummy somehow???
I do love myself, and I carry a lot of weight at present. I just don't like putting it on display for the world to criticise.
If you'd like to see who Imbi is, watch "Australia's Got Talent", as she got through to the next round.
I do envy her, as she has the guts to go on this show, and go for it. I have failed to get singing lessons, and failed to try, so if she gets through I will indeed be envious. My ego is so big, that I think I am at least as good as her. Yet I won't put my money where my mouth is, so the critics have the right to say I am not. My boobs aren't quite as big as hers either, although I think they are great! Sounds like jealousy!
I think it would be fair to say that I am green with envy, that firstly she tried, and secondly, she managed to pull it off! . . . and she is the same age as me! and that's what really gets me!!!
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Four letter words and the rest . .
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Posted:Apr 16, 2012 10:59 pm
Last Updated:Apr 28, 2024 7:2 am
2406 Views
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I just shared this on another blog, and felt I really need to share it here, just in case I haven't already.
I don't have a problem with men who swear, as I tell them I don't swear because I can express myself. Then I also share that I don't argue, because I can explain myself. If they continue to swear, I now know their IQ is perhaps the opposite to mine!
This is when I locate the exit, and promptly use it, preferably long term.
Now there is this other issue of language, complicated, easy? Here I have a different rule. If someone doesn't understand what I am saying to them, then my language is too complicated at that time. I feel the way to speak most of the time, is in uncomplicated language, as in easy words, and mostly in an easy to understand way.
There will always be a situation where the exception to the rule applies, as with everything in life. I understand big words, as long as they are genuine, and don't have a problem with a smattering of big words here and there.
To me, there is "TAFE" language (Technical And Further Education), and there is University language. I once asked someone the difference between the two, as I was trying to decide which one to attend for a course I was planning.
I was told that TAFE teaches you how to do it. At university, you find out why you do it (as well). I looked at the person and smiled. I thanked them. I really wanted to know how to do this particular thing quickly. I did not want to hang around discovering why, or the history, or what's behind it. I just wanted to know how to do it, so I enrolled in a short TAFE course that year, and I was very happy with the outcomes. I have never forgotten that advice, as it has always made my decision easy since then. If I want it for the whys and wherefores, then uni is the answer, and if I want it simple, then TAFE is the go. That easy.
Now of course there is TAFE and University language. Well, sort of. It all depends on the course, and the complexity of what you are actually studying. If you are studying photography, the first big word you will have to learn is "photography"! and what that means! Sorry! It is true! Simple words like focus and frame will of course be no drama, however in every subject, you can almost be guaranteed that there will be at least one big or obscure word, and you just need to learn them at the time, along with their meaning. Then there is university language, where there seem to be fifty new large words almost every five minutes! Well not quite, only it can feel that way. The gist is that TAFE language is simple, and quite a large amount of it, is very easy. University language however, is far more complicated and frustrating to a novice.
As not everyone is gifted with the ability to deal with almost anything, and even really clever people can have blonde moments, I try to always chat in easy language, unless necessary. This tends to avoid all the "duh??" moments. I tend to ask others to do the same. As soon as the topic becomes technical, not an issue, big words relevant to the theme should be used, as long as they are in context.
Once upon a time, when I was a very little girl, I saw the moon up in the sky. It looked strange and very big and round. Way down below, and in the distance, I saw two figures, with bicycles heading towards me. They looked a lot like those black stick figures you sometimes see in paintings. As they neared, either they or I struck up a touch of conversation.
I was less than five years old, and to me they were about eighteen at the time, only today, I do suspect they were just young teenagers. They asked if I could see the man in the moon. I just looked at them, and said "no?" They said "have a look, you can see his face, he lives in the moon". HUH??? I looked at them in amazement, as nobody had ever told me there was a man in the moon, and I believed every word they told me.
After they left, whenever I was supposed to, I went home to Mum, and told her about these big university people. Uh, yes, they told me they went to university too. I repeated everything they said, and she laughingly told me that it wasn't true, but yes, the moon looks like there is a face in it. I was totally confused at this stage, because I had believed everything they said, and I had never had anyone lie to me before in my life, at least not that I was aware, and I had no idea as to what 'not true' or 'lies' were.
For years, I looked for a term, phrase or word that I could use to describe these people, as they had used big words, yes, the long variety that I did not understand, and totally bamboozled me with what I had thought was their knowledge. Over the years I met other people like that, and they always claimed to have a degree, or be university students, at least until I passed that age. Then they just claimed to have a degree, and I always believed that without question. Today I am not so easily impressed, and one day, as a young , I did come up with a description of this kind of person.
I call them "university belligerent". You need to look that word up if you don't know it, because if I tell you the meaning, you are likely to forget it. By looking it up yourself, you are far more likely to remember the meaning, and then you will have the pleasure of feeling confident to use the word when it is relevant.
It's because of people like that, that I took a teacher's advice in my very young days, and looked up every word that I did not understand. When I wanted to know things, I'd have to either go to the library to look things up in an encyclopaedia, or if I was lucky, use one at a friend's place. Then one day we had encyclopaedias and after that I was able to use them lots, and I did.
To this day, I look things up whenever I don't know them. Unlike back then, I can now look up several sources or references to find out what I want to know, as online, you can read lots of search results, or in a library reference section, you can look up several books, which means that you can compare answers and work out for yourself how accurate the information you have found is.
It's all quite wonderful for someone who grew up firstly without encyclopaedias, and then with only limited access to resources, because computers and internet were only a dream, yet to be realised.
So there's some thinking material for you. I do hope you enjoy.
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Does Faith Healing Work?
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Posted:Apr 16, 2012 5:51 am
Last Updated:Jun 29, 2013 10:45 pm
3101 Views
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Whether you are Christian or other, people talk about this thing called faith healing. Christians tend to call it faith healing, and others Reiki. . . and that tends to be the problem with not only faith healing, other gifts as well.
If the person with the gift is a Christian, a churchgoer, and they call their gift the right name, using it for what is considered "godly" things, like healing fellow Christians, or healing the "faithless" to show God's love to them, well that's all good and dandy. It's real, genuine, and works.
This concept probably runs through other religions too.
However, call it Reiki, let the healer be not Christian, and have them do their thing from a distance, and the Christians can see it as evil, yet it is exactly the same thing. As this is an adult site, I have the right to express my views.
It seems that there are things that don't or can't get healed. I have no idea why. I just know that sometimes there are things that perhaps have foundations in a person's environment, or similar, such as diet, that can't be changed without removing the source of the problem. Other things also, are things that people have been born with, and sometimes there is just no way, that this can be fixed with faith healing. An example might be one less toe, or a missing thumb.
I think this needs to be noted, that yes, wonderful things can be achieved, only because some things are not what we would think, they just won't be fixed. Then again, a touch of faith healing might really help as someone gets operated on in a hospital. What I mean by this, is that if people are concerned as to the negative potential of the operation, by getting together and using faith healing at the same time as the operation, the potential outcome is more likely to be positive.
It's basically using the old "mind over matter".
I think a way of explaining how faith healing can be of no assistance, using an example, is that if the part of a person's brain that controls their speech is removed in an operation, or similarly severely damaged, so that their speech control is destroyed, nothing can heal that as such. Faith healing can ease the distress a person might suffer from a condition such as this, as faith healing tends to be based on nothing but pure loving energy, however chances are it will not repair the irreparable. There is a chance that new brain cells can be stimulated to create a new kind of communication, however it is unlikely to be the same as before. This would also depend on the age of the subject involved. While I procrastinate here in order to explain to you that nothing is guaranteed, "miracles" can always happen, no matter what the religion of those asking for them.
For someone to heal from a distance, they really have to have the gift, concentrated, within themselves. There are people who do, and I suspect they have worked on me, since they worked out what I could achieve if I were myself. I cannot say how precious that is, as slowly I achieve this and that. It's taking a long time, however realistically, if I never achieved another thing besides the wonderful things that have already happened in my lifetime, it would still be wonderful. Those who have been reading my blogs since the start know what I am talking about.
These same people also know that it's not just about me. It's about a chain of people who work as a chain, each link doing a slightly different task, and the chain achieving in the end as one. Without one link in that chain, the next can't achieve it's previous potential. It can still achieve, just not in the same way.
Put any group together, who all believe that they will achieve a healing with one or a number of people, let them touch or meditate on the subject/s, and the subject/s will most likely be healed. As long as they all believe the healing will take place, it is very likely to happen. It's in the numbers, as in the power of the group. Let's face it, wherever we go, there are doubters, whatever it is. As long as there are a number who believe that the healing will happen, it's very likely to happen. Try it sometime, no matter who or what faith you are.
It's just about the concept that "faith moves mountains". The reason is because it really can, just not literally as such. It means that if you believe, as a group, that you can achieve something, your combined faith/willpower energies allow your group to achieve the desired outcome.
Now with this kind of healing, there is only one catch. As long as the subject believes they are healed, they stay healed. The instant they stop believing, or doubt, their malady can return, exactly as it was before. Again, this is not fact. Their malady can return, and in some, no matter how they think, the healing stays. It seems to depend on a lot of other factors.
The thread though, is that if the receiver believes, and another or others wish the healing, then it happens. It's that simple. It's exactly the same as a group wishing for anything. As a group, there is a good chance that provided their wish is not against the natural laws, as in the laws of nature, it can and does happen. There is another proviso, and that is the obvious one, that it cannot happen if an equal quantity of opposite desire is working against the group. The action will either be negated, or the superior group, as in superior in either numbers or willpower or both will succeed.
So how can this happen? Is there a scientific explanation? Uh, not as far as I know right at this minute. However if I share a little right now, here, about what I understand happens in faith healing, the scientists can take it a touch further, and hopefully soon find the scientific evidence that is needed.
Ask anyone around any kind of faith healers, and the general thread is that the faith healer seems to develop a "hot" energy in their hands as they use them to heal. Tap into the chinese version of things, and they talk about "chi", life force. In simplistic terms, this is the white light I have spoken about previously, your living energy, a low current electric circuit, that runs through your adrenal system. Science cannot quite explain it yet, which is why people like me keep searching for more new answers to try and allow science to explain it clearly.
I am not a genius, and just what I have said could just set a genius off, and he/she might just find the answer that we have been looking for. To me that would be wonderful.
That's what science is all about, so even if my answers are still a bit vague and sketchy, I am putting forward that yes, faith healing is possible, given the right circumstances, and yes, it can be reproduced almost anywhere at anytime, given a group, or in some cases just one person, with the right attitude.
Right now, science has not quite caught up with this theory. It is yet to be proven. Because I look at things carefully, I often find the basics, can show how it should work, without explaining the scientific theory behind it. Only once I explain it in simple terms, often the scientists are able to both explain and prove what I could not in scientific terms.
What a healer does, is move the energy around with their hands, or just focus it on the site they wish to have healed. Some have a lot of confidence, and don't have to work hard, just "wishing" and the event happens. Others don't have the same confidence, and feel the need to "work" their healing energy, thus concentrating it, so that when they feel it is strong enough, they can use it at the healing site on their subject.
This action would be similar to the way doctors "bombard" cancer cells to destroy them, only in this case, the healer "bombards" the cells in the healing site with their energy to achieve healing. Once science works out how the healing occurs, as in how the cells are bombarded with healing energy, and then what causes or if you like triggers the healing. I am so close to the answer here, and I do not have it.
Ok, healer focuses energy over cell, electric? heat? energy enters cell, and healing takes place, so the energy works like a slap on a baby's backside, or a trigger for the memory of the cell, or maybe the cell group. No I think it works on each individual cell. Umm.. . .so if the energy is electric, then maybe the cell's ionic status changes. Uh, sorry, either wasn't listening or stopped at this stage at school. If heat, then um . .ahh, warms up which agitates the um, neurons?, bits inside? or maybe the bits outside, so that the cell gets triggered to do what we might refer to as "think about the whole situation", only in cell terms, not sure how that would happen.
It's getting late. I am not sure I can achieve much more tonight. There is tomorrow, so I think it will be clever if I return.
Maybe someone else will continue this and find an answer that I can't in the meantime. With the internet, things are moving a lot faster today than they have been. If you do, please make sure you leave a reference here, so I can find what you have worked out, and read it before coming back here.
I don't get paid for this, so I can disappear anytime I like!
I will be back soon enough. . . .
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