by Rod Harvey, Marketing Manager, Gold Coast
Before my involvement with Universal Medicine, I had limited tolerance for people who blamed their past for emotional issues or problems in their lives. My attitude was “well, that’s the past, get over it and on with it, and here’s a personal development book to fix it”. After all, I had my life sorted… so I thought.
Outwardly, I was confident, yet there I was, striving at various sports to prove I was good enough; putting ridiculous hours into work to show I was worthwhile; struggling for years to find my purpose in life and getting drunk at the pub to relieve tension.
No, “I didn’t have any issues”.
After attending various presentations by Serge Benhayon, I realised that I didn’t really ‘have it together’ as I’d thought. I’d been faking it. In fact I had buried my issues, particularly relating to self-esteem and my need for recognition. I also recognised behaviours I used to distract me from life.
One in particular was my predisposition to ‘live’ in the future. I spent much time in that imaginary world. Some of my favourite phrases were: “when I’ve got more money I’ll…” or “when I do this I’ll be able to do that” or “when I lose weight I’ll start exercising”.
When I realised that the unresolved emotions trapped in my body were indeed affecting me, I decided to do something about it. Gradually, I discarded much of what I held in my body with the support of Universal Medicine workshops and various practitioners.
There were some things I had to face up to that I wasn’t proud of and nerves were touched. However, by taking responsibility and being open and honest, I found the ‘letting go’ process to be liberating and healing.
As I discarded my unresolved issues, it felt as if numerous anchors that had been holding me back were released. Now I feel lighter and it’s much more enjoyable to float through my days.
However, it was the following personal family experience that really revealed to me what it means to let go…
My father served in three campaigns during World War II and afterwards held a strong bitterness against the Japanese, yet not so against the Italians or Germans. He never said why and we didn’t ask. We knew something lingered beneath the surface.
Our family didn’t buy Japanese cars or products for a long time. After about 20 years, Dad relented, and my parents bought a Japanese car and household items.
Dad had a very gentle nature. In his 40’s he gave up smoking and drinking and would often prepare his own healthy meals. My mother was very generous, particularly with food, money and herself. Yet there were sporadic times when she would get angry and shriek with rage – it was ear splitting and out of character.
Later in life she loved playing bingo and giving her friends presents and lifts in her (Japanese) Mazda. Yet, there were still those unexplained outbursts, often followed by tears.
As they moved into their mid 80’s I felt that Dad was ready to pass on, but held on for mum’s sake. Her health was deteriorating and she was losing balance and her anger bursts were becoming more regular. Dad was getting feebler and eventually both moved into a high care nursing home.
After 18 months, Dad died peacefully in his sleep. Mum was grief-stricken; after more than 60 years of marriage she had lost her rock. Her body deteriorated further and tightened up, with rigid frozen arms locked into her chest. Her ability to communicate with us became limited.
Around this time, through an elderly relative, I discovered that my mother was abandoned as an infant for a few months when she was sent to a foster home after her father died when her mother couldn’t cope; and again at the age of 14 she was sent to a foster home when her mother remarried and there were problems within a blended family.
This was a real surprise to us, as mum never talked about it. Instead she held it in for most of her life, with no counselling or sharing. That’s the way they did things. No wonder her release valve was the angry outbursts; it was her way of releasing her frustration and sadness. It explained much to us.
Eighteen months after dad died, mother followed. One of my sisters was present the moment she passed on and in that instant my mother’s rigid body immediately let go and all of her tightness vanished. She had held onto her hurts closely until her last breath. It was a relief for me to know that my lovely mother was liberated from the pain and turmoil of her trapped emotions.
My father died peacefully. He had reconciled his past, forgiven his enemy and moved on. Yet my mother had not cleared her emotional anguish and her body reflected that, right up until the moment when she passed over.
The lesson for me was clear: don’t hold onto unresolved emotions in the body.
Let go and live.