Twenty-Eight: Giving a Child with Aspergers a Break

 

Giving a Child with Aspergers a Break

Be. Let the words pour out of the child. Let the busy thoughts escape the mind. Let him speak as long as he wants about whatever he wants. Set no time limits. Welcome the rambling, digressions, repetitions, and dissertations. Be present, without interjection or correction. Allow time periods with no communication rules, lessons, examples, rights, or wrongs. Let the child release the pressure in his mind. Take long walks and car rides together, and just listen. Let him be himself.

Retreat. Grant her a day of rejuvenation, a full day with no visitors, appointments, outings, sports, or any mandatory doings. Keep the day free of all restrictions, chores, and obligations. Stay in pajamas. Allow escape, isolation, and repetitive activities. Give her the chance to rebuild her stamina. Provide solitude and comfort. Stay home from school one day. Peel away the rules and regiment. Let her retreat.

Environment. Ask about sensory concerns in the environment. What causes you discomfort in this space? How are the lights? The chair? The sounds? The smells? The flooring? The pictures? How do your clothes feel? Your hair? Your skin? Where is there discomfort? How can I help? What does it feel like? Describe it. How is the shower? The bath? Do you hurt? Where do you feel the safest sitting? What is hard to tolerate? Do you need sunglasses? A pillow? Earplugs? Let him create a more comfortable environment for himself.

Active Interest. Show interest in her special interest. Don’t call it an obsession or fixation. Call it an interest or passion. Participate. Explore and collect. Be together. Establish a schedule. Make the special interest a priority. Place the passion in a spotlight of acceptance. Establish a blog, newspaper, journal, comic, drawing, song, rhyme, act, or other creative outlet to express the interest. Let the creativity blossom. Welcome the opportunity for connection. Let go of the need to control, fix, alter, or end the special interest. Replace objection with acceptance. Replace disinterest with interest. Celebrate new discoveries. Use the interest as a therapeutic tool. Allow him the freedom to escape from the challenges of his world.

aKnowledge. Acknowledge characteristics, talents, skills, and intelligence. List positive attributes. Don’t pretend anything is easy. Be a warrior and teach how to be a warrior. Don’t try to change the child. Imagine how scary his world is. Tell him he is very brave. Tell him he is not alone in the world. Share others’ stories. Find an adult with similar challenges who is an effective role model. Watch movies about Aspergers. Know the child wants nothing more than to be good, to do good, and to feel good. Explain that he is never a failure and always a success. Tell him you hope he tries his best, but on the days he doesn’t feel like he can try, that’s okay. Tell him he has a right to hurt and be scared. Tell him he is a gift and that there is nothing he can do to make you stop loving him. Tell him he is perfect. Tell him even though you aren’t him, you can imagine how hard life must be for him. Ask how he is feeling. Never minimize or discount. Never say it’s not that bad or things could be worse. Say you are getting stronger and wiser every day. Believe in him.


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Day Twenty-Six: Patch Freak Makes Life Change!

 

I’m going to attempt to use humor to explain a major life altering decision.

I’m back.

Bet you didn’t know I was gone.

I totally (California born and raised) slipped out of focus and got sidetracked for an hour’s time about the origin of the word humor. Why? Because I used the word humor in a sentence, Silly. And that led Brain away, like a string of yarn does for a kitten. This morning Brain’s string began at etymology: the origin or development of a word, affix, phrase, etc., and the string ended with black bile. Yucko-mania!

If Brain hadn’t allowed for a detour into Reasoning Forest, and instead he/she had left me in the moment, I fear I would be profusely apologizing for the spattering of snot and tears all over the computer screen. Yes, remarkably indeed, Brain returned me to an emotional state of equilibrium, with one quick, and rather boring, sidetrack.

And I have good news. When Brain examined the root origin of humor, which included words like phlegm, LV (little voice in my head) found us a new patch for our sash! Our lovely patch Melancholic is one of the four temperaments, the others being: Sanguine, Choleric, and Phlegmatic.

 

It is black in color, the Melancholic patch, and now firmly sewn on to LV’s slash, amongst her numerous other merit badges of distinction. She tore off the high-maintenance patch to make room for the new one. The patch of Melancholic represents the following traits: sensitive, intuitive, self-conscious, easily embarrassed, easily hurt, introspective, sentimental, moody, likes to be alone, empathetic, artistic, fussy and perfectionistic, deep, prone to depression, avarice, and gluttony!

Sidetrack: (Brain left again, but only for a brief stretch. He/She had to know the origin of origin. Call him/her crazy. I do. At first I was afraid that there was no origin of origin. Fear gripped, an anguish surfacing from the depths of Grendel’s mire: What if there is no origin of origin? Don’t panic. Luckily there is. The original meaning of origin is to rise, become visible, or from beginning source. I can live with that. I just wish the online etymology dictionary had the real origin of the universe. Which by definition would be the beginning source of the universe. Sadly, the definition only reads:  the cosmos, whole, and turned into one. No real origin there.)

The Melancholic patch is an improvement over some of the qualities listed on the other temperament patches, such as: hedonism (which is an ugly word to begin with), impetuous, prone to hypocrisy, and prone to sloth. Prone to sloth, makes me giggle. To learn more you can click here

I think from now on, when I’m in an Aspie funk, unable to make a decision, on overload, and/or plain overwhelmed with my brain, I will say: “I am prone to sloth, presently exhibiting attributes of the phlegmatic temperament.” Just warning you ahead of time.

Concerning the brief mentioning of my life altering decision, I was a daredevil speed racer in my mind for three hours straight last night, between the convenient hours of 11:00 pm and 2:00 am. Riding a cranked-up dirt bike up and around turn tunnels and across perilous ramps. LV had a lot of processing to do. And when I woke up, I endured two more hours. I did not know it was humanly possible to pour gallons of tears out of my tear ducts; but then again LV is sporting that hip new Melancholic patch.

The good news is the tears have cleared and hope has set in. There’s a seedling sprouting at this very moment at the belly of my spirit and stretching to the open sky.

What happened? You query, so sympathetically, (or not). Well…I took a whirl at taking care of Brain, LV, and Me, and got the Heck Out of Dodge! (Brain notes: Get the hell out of Dodge is in reference to Dodge City, Kansas, a favored location for westerns in the mid 20th century. Most notably, the saying was made infamous by the TV series Gunsmoke). And that’s the only reason my husband tolerates me–because I’m full of…interesting facts!

Sorry, about that. Suspense building. Drum roll. Shying away. Just going to splash it out in one big wave:

I got the Heck out of the University that I was attending for my Masters Degree in Counseling.

Kaput! We Gone!

There are a few distinct patches I’d like to stick on that subject, but I won’t.

For now, I’ll let Brain be, and LV rest, and Me, Little Sweet Me, I think I’ll treat her to an overdue retreat. Pardon me now, as I venture into my Phlegmatic Zone, and contemplate how to proceed through the glory of a new opened door.

Oh, Crap. Brain wants to explore truckers’ lingo! And LV is shouting, “Yes!”   The Gods truly must be crazy. I like the words: Gator Guts, Seat Cover, and Suds and Muds…you know you’re curious. Click  Truckers’ Slang Words or check out the video below:

Below You Can Read: All About the Origin of Humor, By Sir Brain  

 

Humor is Latin in origin and first meant liquid. The word represented moisture, especially the moisture of fluid of animal bodies, such as lymph.

Around 460 B.C. Hippocrates noticed that blood removed from the body separated into four parts: clear red, yellowish liquid that rises to the surface, dark liquid that settles at the bottom, and a whitish liquid. He and his students developed a theory based on Hipporcrates’ observations. Later the theory was expounded upon. Theorists believed mental health was a matter of a good balance of the four liquids (humors). The word humor eventually became connected with someone’s temporary state of mind. Humor’s meaning of amusement did not occur until the 1600’s.

The theory of bodily humors holds that each person produces four humors but that a preponderance of one relative to the others brings on sickness.  Fluid was thought to be part of the makeup of the body, and temperament, (meaning mixture), was determined by the proportions of four fluids (humors): blood, phlegm, bile, and black bile.

A predominance of blood, associated with the liver, equates to an optimistic and sanguine (confident) temperament. Sanguine is rooted in the original definition of ruddy or blood red face.

A predominance of yellow bile, associated with the spleen, equates to being choleric (short-tempered). Too much yellow bile and one viewed the world through a bilious eye. Choleric is rooted in the Greek khole, meaning bile.

A predominance of black bile, associated with the gall bladder, equate to a melancholic (pensively sad) temperament. From the Greek melas (black) and khole bile. Melancholia means too much black bile.

A predominance of Phlegm, associated with the lungs and brain, equates to being phlegmatic (slow and unexcitable).

Any imbalance of these humors made a person unwell and perhaps eccentric. Through the passing of time humor took on the meaning of oddness.

Fasting is thought to bring humors into balance. Humorism postulates that each person is born with a basic temperament.

You can find more information about the origin of humor here: In MY BRAIN!

 

Day Twenty-Three: A Sliver of My Sacred Hours

Everyday that I sit to write, usually between the Pacific Coast hours of 9:00 and 11:00 a.m., is a sacred journey for me. Whether I am coming off a black tea caffeine-high, and spicing my ramblings with humorous prose, or sharing a profound recollection or excerpt from past journals, I honor this time as a part of my spiritual passage. And for being here, and sharing in this journey, I thank you. My hope is that you leave with something of value, though I understand your experience is your experience, and out of my control. Still, my intention is to connect and share, to never preach or persuade. I hope you can sense my intention.

I feel guided by a higher spirit during my revered two hours. I try not to plan what I am going to write, because when I do plan, the words never match my idea of what I’d thought to type. Usually, the prose is at a dynamic polar opposite of my original preset plan.

I believe in a higher power but choose not to let my belief system affect my open heart and mind—I wish to remain available to life and avoid rigidness and dogmatic viewpoints. Obviously, in someway, my belief system will always define, minimally at a subconscious level, how I perceive life.

In analyzing my spiritual reckonings, I say today, at this very moment of writing, I haven’t had a choice but to believe in some higher being, collective energy, or presence. A source that remains beyond myself and my limited understanding.  As odd as that may sound—the statment of having had no other option but to believe in a higher source—this remains a fact in my life. I accept this is my current truism, and recollect, that like the flowers through the seasons, I will inevitably transition, possibly into a new state of comprehension. As I explained in my fist post, I conjecture our perception of life is based on multiple factors:

“Our understanding of this life experience is primarily based on our individual genetic makeup, societal influences, family environment and dynamics, adopted belief systems, and the limitation of the five senses. Some would go further and postulate that our experience of this life is based on a collective spiritual, and perhaps even ancestral, journey, and/or that we are living a journey already preordained and set out in an exact blueprint. There is the concept of emptiness. There is the idea of heaven. The thought of the collective unconscious. The faith of a higher power. Some even hold true to the fact that we are living in multiple dimensions, creating infinite destinies with each and every decision, each and every breath. Others believe this life is finite–that the real reward rests beyond.

Each of us holds something to be true about our experience of the world: even if that truth is simply believing no truth exists.”

 I understand this is only my idea of my universe. I choose to not place my view onto others, as I recognize my individual limitations to see the whole of what is before me; if in fact, anything exists before me at all. Within the vastness of my mind, I postulate that my higher source is an energetic love, and whether he or she, or even it, bares the face of a recognized deity, God, spiritual being, or other established truth, serves no baring in my determination of what is momentarily true for me.

Whether or not my higher source is the commonly accepted name of any given society—past, present, remote, distant, or near—is no matter to me. Having clung to and/or embraced multiple belief systems and faiths, I have determined, for myself, and me alone, that whatever the masses proclaim to be the form or name of a higher power, does not substantiate or decrease my belief.

I believe the power behind words, particularly the names of gods or deities, comes from the intention of the people proclaiming said names. When a word is spoken by the masses to represent truth and love, then the word reflects truth and love. And I conjecture the opposite to be true.

Like others before me, I believe words and symbols vibrate with collective energy, and that the level of vibration is determined directly by the belief system applied by the individual writing or speaking the word. Each of us experiences a word’s vibration based on the collected whole’s interpretation and in combination with our own life experience and understanding of the word. Words are simply, or not so simply, symbols transformed into pictures, images created in our minds. What I visualize in my mind is ultimately different from what another pictures in his or her mind. The variance of experience is inevitable, but the power behind a given word remains universal.

In current times, the line between science and religion, and other belief systems, regarding human’s state of existence, is becoming narrower and narrower; the line often appearing to vanish, as one sect’s of accepted truth overlaps with another sect’s of truth. I believe any man (woman) who holds onto his or her truth as the exact and only truth to be an innocent one. Inside the elements of my truth, all of us are innocent: for even when one accepts the limitations of the mind, he or she is still grasping at his or her individualized way of interpreting the world. This is not to say that I do not envision my higher power as a particular embodiment, only to say I understand my mind’s limitations.

In actuality, there is current evidence for an ever-changing world and belief system based on individual perception. The science community continues to postulate, from collected data, that an electron’s movement is directly related to the observer. And man has recorded photographs of water crystals forming exact shapes and form based on the vibration of the written words and/or the intention of one’s thoughts. Reality is being captured by man as a state of perpetual transition based on the observer.

I share this with you as a form of preparation. Not for you so much, but for me. As this aspect of myself is a vital piece of who I am, and how I currently present myself through words. In my walking world, where my physical form is present, I often shy away from topics encompassing my reality of life, but here, where I am shedding light on my experience, I find a necessity, at least for today, to be as real and authentic as possible.

Ironically, I aspire to paint with words a picture of my individual reality, while I know this world is not mine to own or create alone.

I’ve included a substantially complex prose entitled Universal Measurement below, which delves deeper into one’s  perception. In no way do I claim this as anyone’s truth. I’m not even certain the writing is what I know to be true. The words are only words, miraculous letters combined to convey a sliver of a glimpse of what I perceived. I still embrace many aspects of the religion I was raised to know; the main difference now is that I acknowledge my own being’s limitations to ever know the exact truth. In peace and love ~ Sam

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Day Twenty-Two: Brain, Little Voice, and Me


Have you ever been in one of those relationships where the person is highly intriguing, passionate, and overall seems like a very likeable gal, but for some reason, you can’t stand to be around her? That’s the type of relationship I’m currently in. Only it’s not exactly with a person….. It’s with my brain!

Brain and I, we go a long way back. Yet, I’m still trying to figure him out. Sometimes I try to understand Brain more by comparing him to other brains.

For instance, just the other day, I asked my husband, “What are you thinking about?”  He responded, “Nothing.” And I said, “What? You’re joking. Really? Absolutely nothing?”

He thought (or did something) for awhile, and then answered, adamantly, “Nope. Nothing.” Now, by this time I’m laughing, in that annoying I-do-know-better way, wanting to knock my knuckle on his head, and say: “Hello, in there!”

Later, I asked my eldest son, the same question. And his answer mirrored his father’s. “Well, what were you thinking about a few minutes ago, then?” I queried. “I don’t know, Mom. Leave me alone. Nothing important.” (He’s fourteen.)

Now, get this. When I asked my middle son, “What are you thinking about?”, he gave me a thirty-minute dissertation. Can you guess which one has Aspergers?

I didn’t bother to ask my baby-boy, Robert; he was too busy securing plastic wrap over a clear plastic cup that he’d carefully filled with the blood he’d collected from his bloody nose. He was saving the blood for future science experiments. I easily guessed what he was thinking about.

Movies are interestingly-annoying with Brain. There are times I  have to press the pause button on the remote during a film, because I’m so excited by the fact that I was actually enjoying the show for five minutes strait without brain interruption!

This is a super big explanation mark deal in my book, because usually when a movie is playing, some 99.99 % of the time, LV (Little interior Voice in my head) and I are carrying on an entire conversation.

I noticed today that LV is starting to have a full personality. Which causes my stomach to rumble, somewhat in fear. Because I fret I may end up with yet another neurological disorder. And there’s only so many LV and I can keep track of.

I picture LV like Laverne, from the show Laverne and Shirley. Like Laverne, LV has letters monogrammed onto her tight sweater (LV), and she’s totally clueless that her sweater is too tight. So she looks like a loosey-goosey, even though she doesn’t mean to appear that way. She’s like me, when I wore those glossy yellow shorts, during freshman class physical education, that were way too short; yet, I hadn’t a clue why the boys and girls were calling me those names. I’m picturing Rudolph the reindeer crying. I’m fine. Santa and the elves loved Rudolph.

Not to should on LV, but she should have a question mark right along side her LV monogram. It’s all about inquiry with that chick. Here’s the typical repertoire of clauses she choses from, while I attempt to watch a romantic, carefree comedy:

Is this the director’s first movie? I wonder how much that actress got paid? Do you think Shakespeare knew actresses would be idols one day?  Is this a box office hit, for real? Wow, nice hair; maybe I should get my haircut. Look, did you see her pause for a whole fricken five minutes to let the other person talk?  How does she do that? Is that normal? Is that what I’m supposed to do? Oh my goodness, do you think she realizes what the plastic surgery did to her face? That can’t be her? Is that her? Should I pause the movie and ask? I want that table wear. Is that materialistic of me? The blue is so pretty. What color is that? Cobalt. Cobalt is a strong sounding word…

Which leads me back to the whole: I wouldn’t want to be my brain’s friend argument. Not that LV is my brain; my brain is mostly a man. LV’s more like the cute cuddly ambassador of my brain. And I have no idea why my brain is not homogenous, probably because he/she has a right and left hemisphere, but I feel invaded by one side—if you must know.

You might have noticed, beyond the rambling, that I used the word  fricken, earlier. That’s because LV doesn’t like to swear, beyond crap and poop head. She does have fun turning harsh “bad words” into less offensive words that sound dorky. Oh, and she does call our little female labradoodle the B-word, only because that’s logical. She also calls the dog spastic-colon!

LV kept me awake last night. Her and the caffeine I had after the noon hour. Anyone, who’s had that can’t sleep ‘cause I’m caffeinated experience, knows the agony.  Now add LV to the picture. Well, I’m twisting and turning in bed, illogically trying do to the same thing over and over again, while expecting a different outcome; even thinking if I fluffed the pillow just right, I’d suddenly slumber, when bam! Smack out of nowhere, a parade of words and numbers start drumming in my head.

They were in a row, all these words and numbers, flashing at me, like the letters and digits in the television show The Electric Company.

I just made a whammy of a flashback-connection: I loved Electric Company because the show was all about words and numbers! And all these years, I thought I liked the show for the Gorilla and his bananas.

Here are some of the words I saw as I tried to fall asleep:

Pretty Sure, Maybe, Kind of, Almost Certain, Could Be, Probably, Perchance, Most Likely, We’ll See, Perhaps

LV, obviously awake from the caffeine as well, was trying to figure out how to assign a statistical number to each word to determine which word/phrase indicated a more likelihood of occurrence. For instance, when parents say, “We could be going to get ice cream later,” is that a more probable chance than parents saying, “I’m pretty sure we’re going to get ice cream later.”

LV reasoned Pretty Sure earned a 95.5% and Could be was very open to interpretation, perhaps a 51%—dependent upon tone of voice and inflection.

LV was going on and on with this theoretical rhetoric, until she concluded that all the words are ambiguous and confusing. All this while I’m side-kicking my husband for snoring and shoving my earplugs into what had to be my eardrums.

In the television series House, during one episode, this genius-type male patient is deathly ill, and the reason for his sickness turns out to be cough syrup. He had been drinking (and hiding) a large amount of cough syrup to stop himself from having complex and profound thoughts. Primarily, he wanted to stop the thoughts, so he could stay with his hot babe of a wife (who was clueless-brained) without being bored to death.

LV is reminding me of this episode and encouraging grape-flavored cough syrup. Like that’s even a feasible idea? Like I said, LV is not the type of friend one chooses. No offense LV.

I had another thought, but I can’t remember now—probably, because LV is upset.

I did want to share that I realized something about music and my relationship to music. A song was playing on the radio this morning, and immediately I became lost in my mind. Which makes me wonder, if I should be driving.

The experience was similar to stepping into a music video, only without all the sexy clothes and makeup, and weird body movements that ooze of I’m cheap, (or maybe drunk).

While I was one with the song, (Ommmmm), I was still me, but had Santa Claus powers enabling me to magically stop time. In the musical experience I visited everyone in the entire world who was sad and lonely. I saw myself stepping into strangers’ homes and staring into their eyes. I saw myself releasing mass amounts of pain and misgivings, and lifting many in spirit, so they could recognize their inner beauty. It was amazing! In moments like that, when my brain enables me to be in the music, I forgive him/her for all transgressions.

One more thing, before I head out to pick up my son and take him to Thai food… Can you hear my tummy cheering! Thai food! Thai food! He (tummy) is wearing a cheerleading skirt and looks completely (avoiding totally) dorky.  Oh no, I think my tummy is forming a personality, too.  Shootness, I just realized all my internal organs have genders! Please Google that and tell me if that’s another neurological disorder. No, don’t.

I better stop myself now, before I make this the longest post in blog history. (Thinking of the end of the Rudolph song: You’ll go down in history.) Have a good one. I’ll be chowing down on Pad Thai and assigning Sir Names to all my internal organs. I’m thinking the most of me is masculine internally. What’s that mean?

Day Twenty: The Wounded Healer (Enter with Caution: Super Deep)

The Wounded Healer

Often my philosophical prose presents itself to me as a stream of consciousness.  The words usually come as I am drifting to sleep or just about to awake. This particular philosophical prose The Wounded Healer appeared as I was resting on the acupuncture table. The message was shown as a page, resembling a scroll. I read the words (in my mind) and heard them simultaneously (with my inner voice).  It feels something akin to being a vessel that is downloading information.  This gives me the sense that there is much information in energy itself. I like to tease my husband and say, “I am either a genius or getting help from somewhere.” I tend to believe the latter.

I propose that many of us our wounded healers.

I offer this out as an example of philosophical prose. Take or leave what you want from this. It is my sole intention to shed light on my journey. Blessings ~ Sam

 

“There are many types of healers. They are all brave. No healer is better or lesser than the other. One healer is called The Wounded Healer. Sometimes this may be preferred to as The Wounded Warrior, as they are like warriors, in their undying effort to overcome obstacles and serve. Before coming to this earth Wounded Healers make a soul-contract to answer the calling of a healer. Those that answer the call follow a similar pattern in life; some eventually become healers of great magnitude through various means, others partially complete the process; and still some, as hard as they try to answer the call on this plane, cannot. Still the soul-commitment of a Wounded Healer alone adds to the positive vibration of the earth and heals. And in this way there is always success. A Wounded Healer need do nothing on this planet and still contribute to the healing effect. However, The Wounded Healer that does go on to complete his task will have a huge impact on others’ pain.

Human pain is perceived as physical, emotional, spiritual, mental, and psychological in combination. No pain experienced is singular. Because no pain is singular, Wounded Healers “learn” to understand various levels of pain in their own life. To a great degree, each person on earth has the potential to be a healer. In fact each person in recognizing the light in another human being automatically heals. Thoughts heal. Words heal. But The Wounded Healer varies from many others in that their life’s purpose from birth is to heal. Because of this, there will be distinct markers of a Wounded Healer.

At all times it is beneficial to remember that a Wounded Healer is no greater or lesser than anyone on this plane of existence, and seeing oneself as a Wounded Healer is not meant to elevate or lift a person. In truth a Wounded Healer will feel a great degree of conflict in reading this; not wanting to feel prideful, pleased, or increased in any measure, there will be discomfort in the physical body upon reading these words. For The Wounded Healer’s main objective, above all, is to remain humble in spirit. Without humility, the healing efforts are lessened, not decreased entirely, but depleted with feelings of judgment of self and others. One cannot judge oneself lesser or greater than another, without losing humility. One cannot heal to the greatest degree without humility. Thus, these variants are dependent upon one another; that is to say, give up self to become humble, become humble to heal. Of course, as humans, there is a degree of self-giving and self-worth that is necessary to survive. Therefore, a balance is necessary—that  is to say, for The Wounded Healer there needs to be a balance of healing of others and self-love. Though most Wounded Healers, when reaching the fruit of their calling, will be naturally loved and healed through healing others in humility. And therefore, in its greatest capacity, the healing is contradictory in terms of existing as both self-serving and endowed with humility. This is a complicated matter in considering, but no less necessary to explain.

There are five distinct traits of a Wounded Healer. These traits can be used to identify a healer in yourself or others.

 

(1) Wounded Healers are set on a path of empathy from birth. This is referred to as the “pain-cycle.” Often over-sensitive and naïve in nature, The Wounded Healer will experience pain in all forms before reaching their final role as a Healer of Mankind. This pain will happen throughout many years of their youth, and likely into young adulthood. Some will experience strong degrees of pain for half or more of their life. When this pain-cycle is complete, differs for each healer. When they have experienced the pain intended to experience, the cycle will make a dramatic shift. This will be an obvious shift. Observers will recognize this shift, as will the individual. The shifting of the pain-cycle will feel like a rebirth. This is often predicated by a dramatic change in lifestyle or life choice. This is not to be confused of “hitting bottom” or breaking the cycle of addiction. This is the end result of years of trials and tribulations—one after the other of soul-experience of pain and human-experience of pain, until at last there is a sunrise of a new day. This will literally feel like a “dawning.” There will be no doubt that the pain-cycle has come to an end. Healers will thus still experience pain, pain does not disappear, but the cycle of learning through pain will have ceased to spin.

 

(2) Often, almost all of the time, the child will experience great trauma in childhood. This will be perceived at one pain-level at minimum, most commonly the psychological-level, but very often the pain comes in combination. Wounded healers choose to experience a childhood of trauma in order to obtain a higher degree of empathy. This trauma (during this current time period) can be seen in all forms of abuse, ridicule, shame, addiction, neglect, malnourishment, poverty and abandonment. In the absence of an outside force produced by others, or in combination, the pain may be self-inflicted, as in perceived ailments of the mind or body. This may take the form of disfigurement, or the inability to be considered by others as “normal.” In later life this pain-cycle may manifest itself in the form of repeated unexplained sickness. These traumas will make a mark on the child. Each mark will serve as a greater good in the years that follow. Each mark indicates a pain that will be released from another being other than the healer. This can be visualized as slashes on the skin. A Wounded Healer carries these slashes that have turned to scars. Each person they heal at a later date will cause a healer’s scar to heal. Thus it follows the more scars a child experiences, the mores pains she is destined to remove from others. But remember, the number of scars is not equated to the number of people. In the process of healing only one person, all of the healer’s scars can vanish. In this way, a Wounded Healer’s soul-purpose may be to heal only one. Whether one or millions are healed is of no difference. Healing one has as much power and magnitude as healing millions. There is no lesser or greater; this is of up most importance to remember. Therefore, a Wounded Healer may complete his contract by healing one or healing many.

 

(3) All Wounded Healers are called to serve since childhood. It is not uncommon for the child to know before the age of ten what they aspire to be. Whether this vocation transforms rapidly or slowly is dependent upon the pain-cycle the person is to experience. Some will arrive at the vocation at a young age, while other will change jobs many times before answering the call.  Still others will slowly transition.  All life experience will benefit the Healer’s vocation. In childhood, The Wounded Healer will seek out ways to help others. Oversensitive, they will feel drawn to saving, nursing, rescuing, and easing discomfort. They will notice the wonders of nature that others often overlook. They will cry if a creature is hurt. They will cry if a person is hurt. At one point, in an attempt to survive, they will learn to stop crying as much, and this can cause much inner turmoil. These children will seem wise beyond their years. They will have the strong need to serve the greater good. They will often feel like failures and not good enough. This will be mistaken for low self- esteem. This is not so. These souls have a strong, if not all encompassing need to serve and heal, and when they cannot do so they feel suffocated, inadequate, weak, and not good enough. They might be mistaken by others as depressed, failures, dreamers, or perfectionists.  Emotions may be out of control.

 

4)  All wounded healers are empathic and also considered Empathic Healers. The Empathic Healers carry empathic traits, but do not necessarily carry all the traits of a Wounded Healer. The Wounded Healer includes the qualities of an Empathic Healer. However, an Empathic Healer may or may not have the traits of the Wounded Healer, such as: traumatic childhood and pain-cycle. In distinguishing the two, there is no urgency or necessity. But for clarity we point out the difference. Traits of an Empathic Healer include the ability to read the emotional energy field outside of a person. This can or cannot be seen. Usually the energy is felt more than seen. But seeing can be developed with focused practice and attention. Empathics have the ability to pick up on others’ emotional state. They may feel “depleted” in energy around other people, especially in crowds. This is a falsehood to consider the experience a “depletion.” This interpretation implies that there is not enough energy left in the person, and that something has been removed, taken, leaked, or escaped. There is no depletion of energy that is possible. What is happening is the person is taking the others’ energy and reworking the energy so to say, and then returning the energy cleansed to the others. This is like a doctor removing a sample of blood, cleaning the blood, and returning the blood. Only the Empathic Healer is the doctor, the tube holding the blood, and the source of healing. Thus the Empathic Healer is left feeling tired from the process. There is no danger in this except the feeling of exhaustion and the possible susceptibility to taking on another’s pain instead of cleansing the pain. Each Empathic Healer will have to learn how to protect themselves from exhaustion and the transfer of pain. The key is to recognize ultimately there is no pain, and thus, what is really happening is an energy transfer, a giving of one to heal another at a soul-level. This “healing” is complicated, but it is suffice to say the one must recognize the other for the earth to heal, although, even this is very much not the true and ultimate meaning.

 

5)  All wounded healers are repeatedly humbled. This begins in childhood and does not stop for the course of a lifetime. For in order to heal to the greatest degree, as mentioned before, the person must practice and live in humility. Each will do so in various degrees. The greatest healers and shifters of mankind will be the most humble. We need not look far to see who these souls were that existed to transform this world. Not all souls who are Wounded Healers will retreat to the greatest of humility, there will be varying degrees based on culture and the necessity to affect change. How others perceive the healer is still important. Societal rules and regulations, and the status of a person, can all affect the perceived skill of the healer. Therefore, each Healer will have different degrees of humility. Not all seekers will feel comfortable with a half naked man with no teeth. Therefore, Healers are colored in all patterns, and dressed in robes that will attract those needed to fulfill their highest good. This may mean no robe, a tattered robe, a designer robe, or a robe of gold; what matters is not the robe the healer wears but what he houses beneath. A Wounded Healer will heal. This is a matter of practicality. There is no way she cannot.

 

Wounded since childhood, and sometimes before entering this plane, the soul of The Wounded Healer will seek out help from an early age. They will attempt to remove the pain in many methods. Many of the methods will lead to further humility. Sources such as strict religion, addictive relationships, drugs, alcohol, gambling, overwork, and the like will often accompany the Wounded Healer in his journey through the pain-cycle. Many will seek help through doctors, psychics, energy-healers, therapists, clergy, and counselors, and in this way continue to be humbled. Others may succumb to mental collapse or physical breakdown. Again, they will be stripped to the bare bone. Some will experience great pain through loss and affliction repeatedly, which end results leads to humility. The pain-cycle will continue. When the fruitful time has arrived, The Wounded Healer will break free from the pain-cycle. This is different for each person. If one were to know when the pain would end, this would be no different then knowing the age of death. On knowing the age of death all life is unavoidably lived and experienced differently. Therefore The Wounded Healer has made an agreement to not know when the pain-cycle will end, in order not to affect change or the end result.

Even as the pain-cycle ends, pain remains to a degree. Humility remains, as does the ability to see in others what is in thy own self. Humility then becomes a coat of armor and a friend. A blessed companion we thank the heavens for creating. For in this grand humility we find the comfort of knowing what has come before has served to heal.

In evaluating a Wounded Healer it is best not to use logic but instead to rely on instinct and feeling. A healer of such magnitude, who carries the armor of humility and the pain of many scars, will be notable to you on many levels. First, and foremost, they will carry with them a peace and inner light so that you will have a tendency to feel that you “know” the person or want to know them. You will be attracted to The Wounded Healer and not necessarily know why. This of course is after the completion of the pain-cycle—before this you might actually be propelled away or want to escape. But we speak of the end of the pain-cycle, when the cloak of humility, grace and service is evident. In this time seek you signs of a welcomed presence. This Healer will seem wise beyond his years, will gravitate towards serving others for the sake of healing alone, and will often be serious-minded and unable to easily let go and relax. Overall, in considering The Wounded Healer it is important to remember their coat of humility. For whatever they may say or do, or seem to say or do through your perception, their ultimate goal is healing.” ~ Sam

(No editing was applied to this prose. This all came out in one quick sitting.)