I hadn’t slept I had woken up out of a torturous dream, covered in sweat. The fear rising in my chest building after what I had experienced. This one was worse a new kind of hellish, children this time. Why was this happening, I wracked my brains. Blast victims everywhere hopeless, helpless no one alive, I have to tidy it up. I was stood next to my bed trying to work out what next. ‘I’m awake I’m awake’ its not real, it felt so real. I spent the next two days confirming it wasn’t real my whole body carrying the tension of a medic on high alert. Telling myself it couldn’t be real looking for any clue in the dream to distguish it from reality. Finally I settled on the sink being in the wrong place. That evening I felt the fear closing in again. I begged my mind not to take me back. My stomach in knots so tight I couldn’t eat. The thought of sleeping now seeped in dread and terror. I prayed it would not reapeat…
I didn’t think I had PTSD. I knew I was a shadow of myself. I put it down to fatigue of being a parent. Sleepless nights and running around after energy abundant small children. Everyone has dreams like that if they’ve been to places like that right? It wasn’t until I found myself participating in a training course. I realised I was not only living with PTSD. I was in a full blown fight with myself and I wasn’t winning. I was hardly surviving. I never thought I would be free of the dreams and nightmares that plagued my mind when ever I became stressed. The faces, I would see from my time in Afghanistan. I had accepted that this was how it was. When my children started to appear in those dreams I plummeted to a whole new level of fear. Something had to change. I still didn’t recognise it as PTSD. So many others had been through so much more, worse tours, pain, injury. How could I have PTSD? Not only did I have it. I had it in all its brutality. To add fuel to a well stoked fire I was battling the shame of being a child of someone who had committed suicide. Not someone, my mum. From the moment I took the phone call my world had been forcefully and painfully torn apart. I never thought I could get over that. The darkness that accompanied it all the not knowing, the pain the triggers more and more of the same but different the anxiety the fear….
And then 6 years after returning home, six years of being lost..
I discovered this beautiful, gentle process.
The moment when change fluttered in like a feather on a breeze. This was not mindfulness, this was not coaching, this was not meditation. This was none of that. This was action. This was the last time when I spoke any of those words thought any of those thoughts I would ever feel like that again. I was about to change in a way I could not believe, let alone imagine. The moment I experienced it for myself the effect was profound. I had no idea that signing up to become a Cellular Release Therapy practitioner. That participating in the training course would alter my life beyond belief. I couldn’t suppress the undeniable power of the subconscious mind. It was pushing forward the very things I had wanted to keep hidden from the world. It was plain as day, the heightened alertness, the inability to sleep. Avoidance of even my closet friends. The removal of colour from my life everything became grey. The constant feelings of criticism, judgement and fear. The pushing away of the things I loved to do. The self doubt and the withdrawal from wanting to work with people. I had no energy for it. Exhausted inside and out. Caffeine and sugar had become some sort of lifeline. I had hated who I had become I had hated myself. The one piece of myself I had managed to hold onto was the part that took care of and loved my children and my husband. That was the only thing keeping me grounded. Inside I was beating myself up for not being a better parent, mother, wife, practitioner. Shattering myself into a million pieces. My mind was its own prison and my body reflected that. The resilience I had come to rely on in my youth was no where to be seen. The optimism and hopefulness that drove me day after day was lost. I was lost. Everything was about to change, out of no where a sliver of hope. I was sitting on the precipice change or don’t change it was now or never. I grabbed my chance with both hands I was not letting go. I knew this was change the rumble was on and I was ready. Every fibre in my body knew it too. I got a sniff of the powerful, intelligent, funny, loving girl I had once been. I wasn’t lost just misplaced in the very depths of my mind. I couldn’t have known that when I started locking down all the hurt, pain and vulnerability all the feelings that terrified me. That I would lock away the parts of myself that loved life, living and laughing. I would lock away the girl that could take on anything and come out smiling. The minute I began learning from Anne Drucker the minute I began diving into those beautiful transformative sessions. The possibility of a breakthrough was not only real it was limitless. Session after session I dismantled crushed and set myself free from those feelings, beliefs habits and pattens. Every part of me unshackled. I grew beyond measure I found I had more to offer myself than I could have ever imagined. I journeyed to the very limits of my own personal spaces. I walked through my own personal hell I kept going. Once I came out the other side I was greeted with my own brilliance, grace and inner power. I could feel the force of nature I have always been, the wild, care free girl with an unstoppable force and energy. I had been awoken, set free. By the time I had returned home I knew I had to establish a place where others could come to. Where others could reach out to and access the keys to regaining their lives back. This had become about so much more than me.The Breakthrough project was born and is here to stay.
I now know I will never have to live or feel the way I did ever again.
The possibility for change is real. If I can do it anyone can.