Visitors Along My Cancer Journey: Emotional Release of Generational Wounds
144
Visitors Along My Cancer Journey: Emotional Release of Generational Wounds
144eBook
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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781504398428 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Balboa Press |
| Publication date: | 02/27/2018 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 144 |
| File size: | 566 KB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Guidance On My journey
The Meeting in the Woods I felt the forest floor under my bare feet with each step I took on this mysterious journey. I thought I recognized the woman who was walking ahead of me and leading the way. I figured she was probably in her midthirties. Her energy felt familiar, yet I didn't know who she was. This must be a dream, I thought, but the scenery and the woman accompanying me seemed real, so real that I could smell the fragrance of the tall trees standing along the path, feel the gentle breeze of the wind caressing my hair, and see the unusual but beautiful vibrant colors of nature showing off its glory. I sensed my surroundings communicating with me, giving me a feeling of being protected and safe. The woman walking ahead was dressed in a brown garment with large pockets on each side. Surely her appearance was not of this time. At the waist, a rope held her garment together. Hanging from the rope were bundles of what I suspected to be roots and herbs.
"Keep on following me," she said. "We still have a ways to go before we are at our destination."
"Where are we going?" I asked. "And where am I? Is this a dream or something? I am so confused, feeling that I'm lost here in this nostalgic-looking place where nothing is familiar to me. And I'm getting a little worried. I have this unsettling feeling that I'm up against something I can't explain, something out of the ordinary."
"Don't worry," said the slightly familiar voice, "soon you will learn what this journey is about."
After what seemed like an hour of walking, we entered a small grove of cedar trees standing proudly in support of one another. In the center of the grove, a circle of stones hugged a fire in the middle. The fire pit, in turn, was surrounded by wooden benches to sit on.
"Have a seat, my child," said the mysterious woman in a gentle voice. "This place is a sacred gathering ground for us to meet in. I am the spirit part of your grandmother whom you have been named after. I know you've recognized something familiar in me, but you never knew me at a younger age when I walked on this earthly plane."
I just about fell from the bench. I realized I knew the energy of this woman, my grandmother who had died more than forty years earlier. I had felt her spirit's essence around me in the past, and sometimes, out of the blue, I had received messages in times when I had needed support. How could this be? Why was this experience so confusing? On one hand, I felt I was walking in an ancient, unknown, mysterious forest, and on the other hand, there was something eerily familiar about the whole journey. "What's going on, Oma?" "Why am I here?"
"The reason for you being here has to do with giving our ancestors a voice. I visited you years ago on that cruise ship and revealed information of seven of your female ancestors. But at that time, you had more living to do and had to add the stories of your own journey before you could finish writing. Now it is time to continue.
"The past seven generations of our female ancestors' stories need to be heard, including your life story, which is still evolving, your sister's, your mother's, and mine. In turn, these stories will bring generational healing to your physical, mental, and emotional life, and to the lives of your daughter, your granddaughters, and their offspring for the next seven generations to come of our matriarchal line. Your ancestors' experiences are still stored in the memory cells of your DNA, and it is time to release that which does not serve you. You will be given the names and the stories about the women in more detail in your dreamtime at some point in the future when we all gather together by the fire at the cedar grove."
Oma continued to talk to me, and all of a sudden, I was fading away into a deep abyss between two worlds. I woke up remembering Oma's visit clearly. Then I was pulled back into the reality of my life's latest ordeal.
My sister and I had both been diagnosed with cancer!
A Gloomy Day
It all came crashing down at the wrong time in my life. I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Of course, it is never a good time to hear such bad news, but why now? It had barely been three months since my sister, Coby, was diagnosed with brain cancer. I was still recuperating from the blow of hearing that news. I needed some time to process it all and find the best ways to cope with it. And now I was beginning a journey to a place I had never visited before. Many questions surfaced. The very first one was, Why is this happening to me?
Like my sister and me, many women face the diagnosis of the big C. I knew I was not the only one dealing with this problem, but at that very moment, my focus was on me. I was wondering what it all meant, and figuring out how to walk this journey myself.
Luckily, I was reminded of the fact that many women survive cancer, still after physical treatment they are left with the physical and emotional trauma the disease leaves in its tracks. I consider myself fortunate because I had scheduled a routine mammogram that revealed I had a small lump. From then on, I entered an unknown world and jumped involuntarily on a rollercoaster, taking a journey that led me on a path to the deepest physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual aspects of myself.
As I look back, I am surprised to see that my physical experience of biopsy, surgery, and radiation seemed the easiest for me to deal with. But how, I thought, do I wrap my mind around the fact that something is wrong with me on the inside of my body? How could I not have known that? The split second after the initial diagnosis, panic crept in, causing me to lose my breath for a moment, and time stood still. I was lost in a dark alley of emptiness, wondering what would happen to me and my loved ones. The next thing I remember was that my logical, thinking mind kicked in and started to ask questions like, What happens if ...? I also asked the hows and the whys. The questions, in turn, created fear and anxiety. "Fear of what?" I heard myself asking. Fear of dying, was the answer coming from deep inside of me.
I am not ready to do so at this moment, thought my rebellious mind. It's not my time yet.
I still have a lot of living to do, said the voice within. First of all, I want to grow old with my husband and enjoy life to the fullest. I want to witness my kids' journeys in life and support them where I can. And I want to see my grandkids grow up. Besides my family, I have an awesome circle of friends I wouldn't give up for the world. And finally, there is so much I still want to learn and do. Then I made a pact with myself, affirming I would not die from this disease. I told my husband and kids not to worry. I was 100 percent sure that cancer would not kill me; I knew it in the core of my being.
It's amazing how this crisis dropped me to my knees and led me to reach out to whatever spirit wanted to meet me in my darkest moment. Then, out of the blue, God showed up in the form of the spirit of my Dutch grandmother, paying me a visit from the other side of the veil. Her presence soothed my restless mind. After the emotional shock of the entire experience slightly faded, I could feel her spirit surrounding me like a robe of light. I was delighted by her presence. And I was in need of a mother-like figure, but since my mom had passed years earlier, there was no one who could fill that role to mentor me. Now my sister and I walked this journey together.
I heard the voice of my grandmother say, "You and your sister will be guided throughout this journey; each of you in your own special way will be blessed to meet your ancestors. Remember: you are never alone."
My Cancer Journey
So here I went on my physical journey, starting with biopsy. When the nurse prepped me for the procedure, she asked me how I was doing, and I burst out in tears. I told her about my sister's condition, and all she could say was, "Ah, you poor thing." I know nurses are not trained to deal with people's emotions, but it sure didn't help. After the initial shock of receiving my diagnosis had faded away, I felt deep down inside, for some crazy reason, that I had no cancer. Still, to this day, I'm not sure I had it. But I went through the procedures prescribed for me anyway, and I see the experience as a blessing. The surgery was the first I'd ever had in my life. I have to say that it wasn't bad — especially after my grandmother's spirit paid me a visit that first night, offering her support on my journey, one she had walked herself so many years ago. I was lucky to have been blessed with a high tolerance of pain, so I didn't have to take any medication. Maybe everything went so easily because my tumor was less than a centimeter and I was fortunate not to have been exposed to chemotherapy. Going into Portland every day for my three weeks of radiation, I kept an open mind and visualized the beams of radiation transforming into laser beams and blasting healing energy into my cells. I prayed for the other patients who received radiation and chemotherapy at the same time. I almost felt guilty knowing that the other patients were physically hurting. Why was I so lucky to have such an easy journey? Every day after my treatments, friends would meet me in Vancouver for lunch to support me. It did make a big difference to receive their love and caring energy. On a daily basis, Coby and I shared our journeys, becoming each other's cheerleaders. All the memories I have of my journey are good ones. The only time I detect any residue is when I see or hear something emotional, especially good things. I can cry just like that. I'm not holding on to the memory of being a victim of cancer. I look at it as a blessing, a life teaching that led me on a new path of exploring my existence.
Everything changed after I learned I had cancer. I found myself walking along two paths. One was marked by the harsh truth of a serious, life-threatening diagnosis of cancer for me and my sister, a diagnosis that was toying with our lives. On the other path, I traveled with the spirit of my oma from the other side of the veil, who was adamant she'd be part of my journey. I welcomed her with open arms. But knowing the forbearing lives my parents and grandparents had come from, I felt it was my turn to be strong, fight my battle, and hopefully release the pains of the past and present lurking in my memory cells. All I could do, I thought, was to surrender and walk the uncertain path between these two worlds.
My mother, Gelina de Groot, was born in 1921 in the city of Overschild, Slochteren.
My father, Jacob Looij, was born in 1914, in the city of Den Helder.
Humble Beginnings
My parents married in November of 1939, just before the war started, so I am a child of World War II survivors. Born in 1952, seven years after the war, I was not planned and had come as a surprise. We were poor, but I never knew it. Most people at that time were happy to put food on the table. Fortunately in our house we never felt hungry. I grew up in a family of musicians. For as long I can remember, our house was always filled with music. We would sing together and play the guitar and harmonica. Dad even played the accordion. My first chore started when I was five years old, doing the dishes every night with my big sister. That's when I was introduced to singing. I remember how proud I felt finally to be part of the family's singing tradition. It was as if I had arrived and was not a little girl anymore. My sister would teach me all kinds of songs, in Dutch and English, whatever songs were popular on the radio. My three older siblings were six, eight, and ten years older than me. When I was seven years old a little brother was born. He died at six weeks of age from cancer. A couple of years later my youngest brother was born. I think I had the easiest childhood of all of us — at least that is my impression — but little did I know when I was growing up what a horrible experience my parents had gone through in the five years of World War II.
Meeting My Ancestors
All of a sudden I found myself walking next to Oma on a path in the woods. I could smell the fire from a distance. Soon we arrived at the sacred cedar circle. There around the fire was standing the most beautiful group of women I had ever seen. The love they showed toward me was so peaceful and surreal. Oma took the lead and spoke. "We are gathering here for the first time with the women of your tribe. I have talked to you before about your ancestors, and now I want to introduce all of them so you may get to know them." One by one I was embraced by all the women in the most loving way. I felt honored and blessed to be in their midst and was excited about the opportunity to get to know them better. The last one to approach me was Mom. She looked so beautiful that I hardly recognized her, but I remembered her essence as only a child can recognize her mom. Oma presided in her role as a wise woman. "Let us first pray," she said, "and invite spirit to guide us. Our intent is to offer to the fire the old experiences Gelina endured in her life on earth. In our ceremony we will honor her life and bless her descendants, who still hold the emotional aftermath in their DNA. She will speak her truth about her life experiences living through a war."
Mom's Traumatic War Experience
Mom settled into a beautiful decorated chair with cedar branches, moss, and soft pillows, dedicated for the one to speak. After she was centered, she continued in a soft and clear voice, telling her story. "Life was so different in those days. In the neighborhood where we lived, everyone was poor, but they helped each other out. All changed when the war started in 1940. Our lives took a different course than what we had dreamed of. Not long after, we found ourselves running into bomb shelters whenever we heard the sirens blasting, warning us that airplanes would fly over, possibly dropping bombs. The very first bombing by the Germans in Den Helder was in May 1940. That's when I almost lost my life, only six months into my marriage. While hiding with your dad and many others in a place we thought would be safe, a piece of bomb entered into the chimney of the building and caused an explosion inside. Many people died. One of them was me, so they thought. A peculiar thing happened, for I saw myself watching from above, hovering over my body. It was so serene and peaceful, I felt in no hurry to go back to the chaos down below me, where my body was lying in between other victims. Beside me I noticed other beings floating like me, looking down at their bodies. Some of these spirits drifted up and away, and others tried to get the attention of their loved ones down below. I remember not feeling any fear, any anger, or any other emotion; it was just so peaceful. I witnessed the scenery as a bystander, without any emotion or pain. Next I was pulled into a dark tunnel, seeing light way at the end. When I entered into this twilight zone, a tall being of light took me under his wings and transported me to a place where more light beings resided. There was confusion among the floaters surrounding me. After a while, a nurse-like light being guided me to another light chamber. She spoke to me in a soft angelic voice, telling me I had to go back, for I had more things to accomplish. I felt puzzled. 'I don't want to go back,' I argued. But before I realized it, I floated back into the tunnel. And when I arrived down below, I was hovering again above my body, watching what was happening without emotions or pain.
"When the coast was clear and I guessed that the threat of more bombs dropping had disappeared, people started searching for the wounded and gathering the dead people so their families could claim their bodies. I was able to follow your dad. I screamed at him that I was here, but he didn't hear me. It seemed he was in shock when he learned that I, his beloved wife whom he had stood next to in the shelter, was missing. I saw his body shake to the core of his being. He was in a bewildered state of mind. As he went home, my spirit drifted alongside him, watching him find our home. Then, in a distracted state of mind, he grabbed my picture and, by some means or another, my apron, holding both tight to his heart. He looked so sad and confused when he went searching for me, asking if anyone had seen the woman in the picture he was holding up. There was panic all around; no one had experienced anything like this before. Having noticed a priest walking near him, I tried to get his attention, begging him to go help Dad, but he didn't hear me. Then, like a gift from God, the priest, who knew us through the family, noticed Dad and took him under his wings. 'Come on, Jaap, let's go find her,' he said. After what seemed to be a long time of searching, they found my body lying in the rubble among other wounded and dead people. Looking down at my body, I noticed I was barely breathing. Next I witnessed my limp body being carried to the hospital, where I was placed in the care of nurses and physicians who began fighting for my life. When I felt myself sink back into my physical body, I realized that my injuries were significant, but the most serious injury was on my head. All of a sudden, my body was screaming with pain all over. A gaping wound covered my head, throbbing like a bomb that could explode inside my skull anytime. I was unable to hear anything or respond to the people around me. A nurse gave me a shot in my arm and I lost consciousness again. I faded in and out, but when I came back, I learned they had shaved off all of my hair so as to tend to my wounds. Looking down at my body again, I noticed a scar starting from my forehead and going into my hairline, at least three inches long.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Visitors along My Cancer Journey"
by .
Copyright © 2018 Klazina Dobbe.
Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Preface, ix,
Chapter 1. Guidance On My journey, 3,
Chapter 2. My Sister's Cancer Journey, 17,
Chapter 3. A Last Farewell, 27,
Chapter 4. Family Dynamics, 33,
Chapter 5. My Oma's Story, 45,
Chapter 6. Trauma Caused by Rape, 59,
Chapter 7. Choice between Good and Bad, 77,
Chapter 8. Murder of a Healer, 91,
Chapter 9. Misuse of Priestly Power, 101,
Chapter 10. Domestic Violence, 111,
Conclusion, 121,
Appendix, 127,
About the Author, 129,