Where Am I Coming From?

As a chioviani - a Gypsy equivalent of a wise woman, energy healer, keeper of ancient knowledge, dunkerer, soul healer, and so much more; I often have other chiovianis and healers come to me for advice or just to discuss different issues.

Many people ask me how I came to be doing what I'm doing now. What's my background?

I was telling someone yesterday that in this lifetime I was born a healer and empath. I've been a healer in my past 5 lives. That's an estimated 200 years or so of experience and knowledge - given that I calculate about 40 years of healing in each life - give or take a year or ten.

Healers, even more so than others, are complex people. Often our extreme empathy with our fellow man is born from a deep well of suffering over many years. Sometimes over many lives. Many of us carry the scars of tortured pasts. Our experience of such depth of pain and suffering is what makes us better at helping others understand their own tragedies. We've 'been there and done that', if you like. We know how it feels.

Take my childhood in this lifetime for example: I was raised by a genuine psychopath. I was mentally, psychically, physically abused by this very dangerous woman for 21 years. Yes, 21 years. Even for many years after that her nasty influence had a hold over me. Only two years ago did I finally sever that hold.

I know you may recoil in horror at how I could have let that situation go on for so long. How could I, a seemingly intelligent person, allow this evil have so much power over me for so many years?

Here's where my understanding has grown beyond what most people think.

I was adopted as a baby and raised from 18 months of age by this person. I grew up isolated and ignorant of the rest of the world. I had no point of reference to see that my life was any different from any of the other kids I went to school with. With child-like innocence I assumed that my life was 'normal'.

It was only in my teens that I realised something was wrong. I listened to others talk about what they were doing, how they and other friends would go camping, how they'd have sleep-over parties, etc.

I had never questioned why this was not my reality in the past and I didn't question it then. But I began to see that something was not right about my upbringing. However, when you grow up with the possibility of "being sent back" hanging over your head, you do and say anything and everything you're told to, just to keep yourself at "home" where you belong - where you're loved.

Ugly, gangly and with the worst cystic acne I've ever seen on anyone, I was the subject of ridicule to the point where I was afraid of other children. Even adults would use me as a sport by saying something that would make my mother lash out at me and lock me up. I was afraid of everybody.

Only as an adult was I able to look back and grieve for that poor little girl. For so many years I actually believed that my adopted mother "meant well" in her own twisted way.

The reality is even more tragic, I think.

Consider that woman who - already a narcissistic, highly competitive, jealous personality - gets married and wants to have children. It would have come as a tremendous blow to her feelings of self worth when she learnt that she could never give birth to a child of her own. Add to that, the fact that all her married sisters and friends already had children. Bitterness would have eaten into her like fire.

My adopted father was a genuinely nice man. He probably suggested in the best spirit of kindness that they should put their names down to adopt. Unfortunately they were almost at the cut-off point in age.

It just so happened that my natural father, who was in jail at that time and my natural mother, who might also have been having a short holiday courtesy of Her Majesty, were about to have a baby. The authorities in all their wisdom, spirited me away in the interest of saving me from such a horrible upbringing, and stuck me in a home somewhere at the age of 10 days old.

About 18 months later, the adoption agency called my parents and told them they had a baby ready and they'd better get right down there (to Melbourne) and pick it up. Of course they dropped everything and ran.

Unfortunately for my adopted mother, the reality of the situation was very different from how she imagined it would be. Suddenly she was stuck with a girl - not a boy as requested - that didn't fit the image of the child she had in mind.

Now, here's the dilemma. She's stuck with a child she doesn't like, doesn't want and has no affinity for. She can't hand it back because they're now too old to get another chance. Her husband falls instantly in love with the child and treats it as his own. He has an affinity towards the child, a raport, that she can't feel.

Everybody - family, friends, etc. - all know they've adopted this child and all oooh and aaaah over it. She's now trapped into raising it.

I won't go into more detail. This blog entry is long enough now to fill half a novel. But you can now guess at how the bitterness turned to hatred and ate into the soul of an already damaged personality. She inflicted upon me many, many years of pain and suffering.

How did I survive? Did I forgive and forget?

No, sadly. As a teenager I was already numb, withdrawn and empty. I could feel nothing, could see no future, longed for the sanctity of death so I could escape this bitter life and start again. At the point of suicide, Jesus, appeared in the mirror behind me and gave me a glimpse of the reflection of an old woman - me. Then I knew I had a future beyond the pain. I knew I would survive.

He also let me know one other reality.

It was not up to me to forgive her and learn to love her for who she was. That was his job. I had to hand it all over to him and stop carrying the burden myself. That was a huge revelation for me.

Once I did that, a tremendous weight lifted from my life. I no longer had to torture myself over the fact that I was not a good enough person to forgive my mother for hating me. That I was so evil I could feel no love for the woman who raised me.

But it was still a long long time before I could actually break the hold she had over me. As she has grown older, she has grown stronger in her hate and bitterness. It has consumed her. She gets genuine pleasure out of hurting people's feelings - especially mine.

I had to distance myself from that or I would continue to suffer from her attacks for the rest of my life. And it took time and effort. I finally succeeded, with the help of a simple Gypsy spell of unbinding that quite simply refocusses your own energy and reprograms your mind to not be affected by what others say and do.

Every time I feel that she is slipping beneath my guard again, I repeat that little ritual and it helps me to remind myself that I have no ties to that person. I have no obligations towards her and there is no reason I should listen to her ravings nor be hurt by them. They are just leaves in the wind.

So there, folks. I came through the darkness to the other side, and with me I've brought a greater gift of compassion and understanding than I ever would have leaned had I not had the life I've had.

That's not to say that I still don't have a lot more harsh lessons to learn. But I don't carry their burdens with me any longer. I release them. I learn from my lessons and remember the pain so I can reach out to others who suffer.

I didn't call myself "the soul healer". I had to earn that the hard way. I grew into the role.

May I, and all others like me, continue to learn and grow. May we all remain open to all possibilities and never be afraid to feel, to love, to heal, to embrace life in all its realities.

Love and light to you all.

Soul Healer