Tag Archives: blame

conspiracy, Politics, QAnon and others, Spiritual Abuse, Trauma Talk

Bottoms Up – 3

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Bottoms Up – 2

Dr. Lawrence Palevsky continues:

“(1:22.09) You’re going to have to start realizing that you were duped. That you were lied to. That you accepted something because you were pressured and could not put the line in the sand. That you thought you were better off getting the shot because you could then go to a restaurant or to a ballgame, or to a theater or to a movie or to a museum or to see family members. That you put your life on the line to get a shot that was never meant to protect you, cause look at how many people are sick. Who get’s the flu in July and August into the levels to which people are getting sick in July and August and September in the uh the U.S. and in the northern hemisphere? We have been sold down the river for a bag of goods that is just rocks and you have tied your ankles with lead weights and jumped into the river.”

There is no doubt in this New Age pseudo-scientific spirituality of supposed freedom, that one is blamed &/or shamed, quite like I was from my church pew.

Thinking about pressure. He’s pressuring the listener, the follower, the inquisitive, the searching, the vulnerable into believing they are weak . . . ah but he is strong. Hmm. Where have I heard that before?

Look what you unenlightened dummies did. You gone and done yourself wrong because you were all into material things. Stupid idiots. You lined up, gave them your arm because you were afraid and believed the lie about a virus that doesn’t exist and now look at you, you’re all sick and dying. Tsk! Tsk! Then of course, the reference to the flu. Can’t tell you how many times the flu has been flung.

You are dying. And if you aren’t, you are sick. And if you aren’t sick, watch out, you’re going to be sick. First of all we know you are sick because you were fearful and got that damn shot! Emotionally you are insecure and that alone will make you sick if you aren’t already. You people blew it because of your religion of false God(s) and false idols.

Shamed in my pew. I blew it. I fell for the lie. The perfect set-up. Time to repent.

Time to connect with the Phoenix.

Death, Emotions, Healing, Life, Pain, Personal Memoirs

Part 2 – Thirty Years Later

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I woke up in Recovery Room to a familiar face.  I told her I was glad it was her.  I was exhausted.  I was sad.  I laid there thinking of all the women who I had cared for in that Recovery Room who had also miscarried.  Never again would I not be able to relate to their experience, the hormones, the emotional and the physical pain.  Looking back, I now realize the sheer volume of spiritual pain that many of us carried, hidden, behind our shame, our guilt, our self-blame.   We mothers so easily carry a universal-type Eve complex.  It’s our fault.  :-(  From now on, as a professional nurse, I would realize that tears or no tears, the information swirling around in the heads of women is often more than they can bear.  Of course, often, those who believe in God also believe that God won’t give them more than they can bear.  Or so that’s what everyone tells them.  Not true.

I learned from the nurse that the baby and the amniotic sac were all in contact.  From the surgeons eyes, he saw nothing wrong with the baby.  But of course, the baby was dead.  And yes, I called it a baby and to this day I still call it a baby.  The umbilical cord, for whatever reason (and I would later blame myself for this) fell apart breaking the connection between baby and me.

My stay in the hospital was brief.  Both my doctor and surgeon discharged me the next morning.  One told me to take the night off from sex but then I could get started right away and try again.  The other told me he didn’t want to see me for at least three months.  In other words, don’t get pregnant for three months.

The surgeon made note that he expected me to be sad and very upset the morning he sent me home.  I looked at him, brushed it off matter-of-factly . . . I had slipped back into nursing mode.  It’s okay, I’m fine, miscarriages are a dime a dozen . . . I was in another kind of shock and as well, I had started into that belief that God had allowed this to happen to get ahold of me again.  I had also started to believe that the miscarriage was my fault.  The level of athletic activity before I miscarried was heavy.  I believed I had not taken care of my baby by selfishly participating in a rigorous sport.  I shut down my feeling side and believed that what I was enduring was what one should expect.  I blew it, I deserved it, so there.

Then I went home and I went to bed and I didn’t cry until two days later when from the living room my husband heard my sobs.  Rushing into the bedroom and coming to my side he gently said,  “I wondered when it would come.”  And so I woke up for a bit and mourned the loss but underneath I was seething with self-blame and shame.  I named the baby, giving it a unisex name, not knowing whether the child was a boy or a girl.  I wrote a poem and held my own memorial service.  I pictured my little one floating in a specimen jar in the lab, along with all the others whose destiny was to float in a toxic chemical the rest of their non-lives.  I was horrified.  I believed though, that the child was in heaven and that gave me great peace at the time.  I understand why mom’s need a heaven.  (Dad’s do too by the way, but right now I’m writing about me as a mother.)