How Can We Evolve From Depression? Can You Guess?

Are you ready to learn why we may be experiencing so much mental illness and addictive behavior?

What if I started by telling you there is nothing wrong with the sick at heart that a look at the root cause can’t fix?  Are you interested in getting to the bottom of emotional and mental imbalance? 

This discussion would be incomplete if I didn’t start off talking about what is literally making about half of the school population emotionally and spiritually sick.  For me I could not tolerate public education in elementary and secondary school and I’ve figured out why the place made me so very unhappy in spirit.

This is important and we need more empathy if our kids are going to get anywhere…

Trying to cope in a row style environment, remembering facts and figures was hard and boring to me.  I somehow knew I don’t need to know everything they want to force me to learn, I can teach myself how to think.  Get me to Grade four where I can problem solve, read, write, communicate with civil behavior and I’ll be fine.  I know now my learning style did not suit left brain academy at all.  I started off on the wrong foot.  The left one.

In Grade 1 we had these IQ testing standards and I remember the teacher saying as soon as we finished our exam booklet to quietly go outside until all of the other children were finished.  Well, that’s all Cherylann needed to pretend to answer all of them correctly as fast as possible without looking at the questions.  Just filled in the grey squares and off I go to play – first one out.

Of course the system thought I was disabled in some way from the beginning because of that first impression brought on by a little girl who just wanted to end the unhappy classroom experience.  From that moment on my life took a turn for the worse and lost years of education I’ll never get back.  I failed grade 2.  That was the first year I remember feeling a deep seated depression settling in my spirit.  No one had any confidence in me even though I could tell time before my brother who was two years older than me, and I was reading way beyond anyone else I knew.  I wrote poetry and was so good even my mother liked my written thought sometimes although she nor I saved anything.  It was rare for me to have any credit in school until I found my own way back starting at my age of 21.

Let me give you a couple of examples on how public school was no help in my emotional or academic growth.  Grade 8 Math said I did nothing that semester, and I finally dropped out of school in grade 10 after the huge disappointment I received from the one class I did like, English: We were told for 50% of the grade to write a book of poetry.  All different kinds, Haiku, Couplet, Limerick, Free Verse…omg I was in heaven!  Finally I was going to bring home an “A” rather than the usual D’s and F’s or Incomplete’s with “U” for Unsatisfactory effort.  Then the system kicked me in the ass right out the door when the assignment had an added requirement:  I had to illustrate each poem.  People who get my brain will feel my pain in the idea of drawing pictures!  It will RUIN EVERYTHING!  In the poetry there is passion, in my drawing we barely have a Kindergarten level ability of even staying in the lines.  It was a horrifying assignment that sucked all of my passion right out me until I found myself again.  I refused to illustrate those poems, wanting to show off my poetic art, and only received a C, and the teacher said I should have had an incomplete.  I am creative, but in my own unique ways that didn’t include fine arts.

So I did what any other free thinking right brain person would do, run away from home to escape the madness.  That’s a nice way to frame things but I want you to know my awareness about myself then was nothing like the self-awareness of I have myself today.  I was a worthless no value person who was filled with self doubt and even hatred, in my mind back in the day.  A bad girl in my mind, however mislead.

I look back today and am in awe of how my life came together so unconsciously perfectly well, and how I made it is anyone’s guess.  I am a miracle but that’s another story I’ll share another time.

Speaking of guessing and getting back to the spirit:

I think guessing is the secret to everything.  I am conscious of our right brain capabilities lately in my work as a Clinical Hypnotherapist.  I work with some seriously depressed and anxious women and men who are collapsing in the same left-brain oriented world that I almost drowned in before them.  All of this memory, order, perfection, lines, rules, technology, is making people sick.  We worship and embrace logical training and is now (or has always, I don’t know) the dominate force of our people.  It is the only side of the brain respected or valued in this, and most other worldly cultures.

The problem is men and women were created equal, but not the same.  It’s so obvious to me I can’t believe no one thought of this before.  We have such a completely different physical and mental mind it’s amazing no one said anything to make me think again about how important Math 8 would be, considering the trauma it caused my happy spirit. We need to ask why doctors only studied the male body for research until recently when female forms are the one’s with all of the tools for life?  How can they compare the sexes at all?  Why no man still understands a woman is because he isn’t one.  It’s part of the plan for us to be different, but we spend so much time trying to be the same as men instead of our own amazing selves.

This is where the exciting part comes in for women everywhere and to come – it turns out our part of the brain makes us the inventors of the world too!  We are Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison, and Alexander Bell, and all of the one’s who made this world what it is today because they were allowed to imagine things without shaming.  Airplanes and wild ideas of internet connect was just an idea floating around someone’s right brain.  The imagination.  If that imagination can connect with the senses for life; sight, sound, taste, smell, touch – and intuition – you can count on a manifestation in reality.  The creator.  That’s our gift.  We have ideas, imagination, and the creative passion within us that would make this world one hell of a place to live.  Almost perfection if you think about it. Being allowed to imagine is all it takes.

Can men be right brain oriented and women be left?  Absolutely.  It’s true more women are right brain feminine but there are many right brain masculine.  Gays, transgendered, ADHD (so-called) and other male types are right brain oriented in some areas and do not do well in school in many cases.   Unless they are little lobotomized to obedience or something.  The mind is is about spirit development, supposed to be, don’t you think?

The emotional imagination has been played with and manipulated for someone else’s benefit.  Not mine.  Instead of imagining and manifesting a good life for ourselves, we give the female sex up to the idea that we are born in sin.  Fear, shame, anger are learned into the consciousness, darkening the heart to sleep until you hardly know it’s there anymore.  This part of our being feels like it’s going insane.  The unconscious spirit just can’t take it anymore!  That’s what I think.

Imagine the imagination is exactly where your kind of wisdom is found?  And it’s beyond left brain limits – it is infinite in emotional intelligence.  The way we have evolved is an example…and it just keeps getting better.  But never to perfection.  It is infinite, flexible, relative, and does not know time.

The whole point is self-love and respect, and to count on you for your good life.  The spirit can only awaken to universal wisdom if we know it is there.  It is clear we have been led down the wrong road for our own spiritual sake with the judgement we place on men and women alike. It is never too late, and maybe all of our experiences was supposed to be how we were going to develop the soul all along anyway.

SENSES OF THE IMAGINATION 

How do you solve problems and then thrive?

  1. Guess.  If you don’t know the answer to something, use your imagination to figure out the problem.  You know.  You know everything.  The more you believe the more you know.  This is an amazingly fast way to open up the vault of the unconscious imagination.  You know things, you have had life, lots of your experiences will remind you of the answer and it’s all stored right there in the unconscious ready to be accessed if you’d just go to the guess channel.  I’ll tell you a secret, if you connect with yourself enough you might soon be connecting with your guides and the rest of the universe as well.

2.      Put yourself into trance regularly.  If you can’t see a Hypnotherapist then find a way to get out of your own way.  Music, arts, look into a fire, whatever…you know how, you know everything.  I have confidence in your innate talents and resources to put yourself into a calm state of mind where you don’t have to think for a while.   🙂

3.  When in a trace state of mind begin to dream and fantasize using the mind’s eye.  If you have difficulty understanding this, think of it as the same way you might have fantasies for sexual gratification, only this time you want to open up the juices of other senses for life.  To create your imagination with any kind of clarity the dark ego emotional nonsense has to be removed.  It’s okay, you don’t need them believe me.  You really have to be willing to give up a lot of the ego.  Use your imagination to balance the emotional senses.  It won’t hurt your sex drive to focus on another fantasy, it might even help.

Friends, as we evolve into this next age emotions are sparking everywhere and it is going to get worse, you can imagine.  This is your gift, your deal – emotions and they are love, compassion and empathy.  That’s the heart under the ego of fear, shame, and anger.  You feel unstable because you are waking up I suspect, and can sense things that go on in your life are not right, but can’t figure out what.  It’s right brain oppression and you’re only just beginning an amazing journey now.  It feels unstable because no one is agreeing with your thinking that you can hardly deny anymore.  Right brain people keep silent and I share from my heart to be an example of the opposite.  I hope you find your purpose and inspire others with your mind. It is special.  It is very special.  Finally.

For Suffering Sensitive Men and Women

You can come up with ideas to leave a controlling or abusive relationship.  Find a way because you are smart like that so do it.    Without consciousness the senses feel like insanity.

Men, they’re great too with their own unique talents, resources, and offerings to the world!  But not everything is all about men, especially when the main right brainers are indeed women who have been very badly neglected in life offerings and benefits, and we are beginning to know it.  I encourage the development of right brain education, in the way that suits the child’s spirit.  I tell big pharma that drugging beautiful minds with medication that stays in the energy 24/7 should be a criminal offense, if they only knew the damage it was doing throughout North America.

Instead of using the imagination to scare yourself to death, try to turn the imagination around for better results and watch yourself blossom into the butterfly you were meant to be. What do you think all of those pretty butterflies are trying to tell you when they flutter by?  Time to stand up and take your place at the table with all of the others now.  If no one has invited you to equality and good life, find another way.  You too will come up with all sorts of theories as you evolve. What if you are allowed?  XXOO

Please like, love or share if you think we need more right brain development for a better civilization!

************************************************************

Cherylann Thomas, BASc.Crim., CH,t is a Clinical Hypnotherapist in West Kelowna, British Columbia.

Check MMH out at the Family Wellness Treatment Centre.  Are you suffering with depression, anxiety, self-identity crisis, obsessive behavior, or any mental health disorder you have been labeled?   Others use hypnosis and hypnotherapy  lose weight, improve your performance, connect with angel’s,guides and spirits, experience past life regression.

Happiness is a choice, and ultimately only one person can decide when to take back control over their destiny.  If you are ready to make the necessary changes for peace, comfort and happiness, please our website at http://www.mindmiracleshypnotherapy.ca

Like our Facebook Page at http://facebook.com/mindmiracleshypnotherapy

unconsicous spirit.jpg

What if Your Wounds Lead You To Your Purpose?

What if there really is a good reason for our emotionally painful life experiences? What if it was to prepare us for our journey to come?

At the cell level of my being I understand pain, fear (terror), resentment, loneliness and even envy of what others had and I did not. I use to think I was one of the most unfortunate souls to walk the earth, the mother of a child who died. While I once said giving birth to a baby was painful; I soon learned I would experience even harsher torture when I had to give Trevor back 25 years later.

When I did begin to investigate to find out why I couldn’t seem to find any emotional peace in my life I realized that the image of myself was all wrong for me. I didn’t belong there. I was better than that. I didn’t fit in the not so merry place of victimland where “Oh Woes Me” could be heard for miles. After a while I never really felt comfortable in that role and I somehow sensed there had to be more for me.  I recalled when I was a 16 year old mess my stepmother looked in my eyes, deeply, and said, “Cheryl, you are special.  Don’t ever forget that.”   I hung onto those words because I needed them for a lifeline from time to time, and they are the words I clung to when I decided to throw caution to the wind and find my own truth.

It was hard because I have a whole shitload of trauma and drama most people would never be able to lift out of. If you knew my complete story (and some of you reading do); you would all understand if I just packed up my bags and lived in self pain for the rest of my miserable life. YOU would be compassionate and understand, but I somehow felt there was better for me.

I had to get tough with myself. No more lying inside to attempt to make myself OR SOMEONE ELSE feel better. That didn’t work. No more lying and secrets, shame and stuffing. Time to get real. When I finally did GET IT I was pleasantly surprised to find my own Truth is actually very special. Who I am. What I am. And where I am going all became very clear to me. I know now I’ll never look back.

My new attitude doesn’t mean I don’t still hurt myself from time to time with my own human impulses.  And I can get just as reactive as the next guy (sometimes that show really looks ridiculous), but today I look at it like I make mistakes, but I am no longer ‘a’ mistake.  And I ignore set backs.

Sometimes the worst of the worst has to happen to us before we are ready to use available tools (and there are options for everyone when we look) to recover from trauma.

I learned I had to stop being a baby and to realize I am not the only suffering soul. There are people out there far worse off than me and when I open my eyes and see how much I really do have I immediately have emotional peace.

I should be more compassionate at times when I see the whining and crying over everyday minute solvable things; I realize it irritates me only because I was there too and perhaps I’m mad at myself for not understanding sooner.  Petty gossip to reduce your friend just about drives me around the bend. We don’t take responsibility anymore. Everything is everyone else’s fault or we are a victim of circumstances. What if you are suffering because you like to? Perhaps this is what your psyche is use to and so you keep doing it?

I suggest we are better than that, under the clutter. You (yes you!) are an amazing person with a potential for an amazing mission. Lift up out of the bowels of emotional despair and find your hero within.  When this is achieved I suspect you too will find your wounds actually do lead you to your exciting life purpose.  The walls will all come down and you’ll not only think outside of your old box, you’ll see there is no box at all!

That’s my message, that’s all. I don’t want to pick on anyone feeling down and out.  It would hurt me if I knew my message hurt someone who is feeling powerless right now. My intention for writing today holds two thoughts: 1. I like to share to inspire people up, and 2. I like to vent (sound out my passion) this way. I find it therapeutic. 🙂  If this did not suit your story that is fine too. ❤

**************************************************************************

Cherylann Thomas, B.Sc.Crim, CH,t is a seasoned Clinical Hypnotherapist practitioner working out of Wesk Kelowna, BC Canada. She specializes in mental illness resolution including depression, anxiety, mood disorders, grief, loss, sexual abuse, childhood trauma.  Cherylann is trained using the latest therapeutic hypnotic techniques including suggestion, regression, PLRegression, Parts and Cords therapies for habits, loss and abandonment.

IMG_7436

Are You Driving Yourself Insane?

Warning: This article is graphic and may have triggers for some.

The most seriously mentally ill win the award for the best vivid imaginations.  They can conjure up all sorts of thoughts and ideas in their heads that are absolute nonsense, B.S. not proven, not even validated a little bit.  And yet we all, at one time or another, allow self-defeating thoughts to enter our consciousness, roll around and around as if it is the Truth, making it the Truth with added imaginary thoughts to confirm our righteousness in our lying positions.  There are degrees of mental illness, depending on the severity of the lies we try to hold onto.

This is personal for me.  When my only child, Trevor, died at the young age of 25, my imagination almost drove me to the brink of madness, if it didn’t once or twice (or too many times to count) in the years that followed his accident.  Where was he?  Did he go to hell?  He wasn’t a Christian and I know he was quite anti-religion period.  So, what does this mean for his future in death?  You can imagine my horror.  A mother is a mother unto eternity and she will always have the intuitive need to protect her young, even in death.

How can I go on knowing, based on all of my biblical and religious training, that Trevor was burning in hell!?  His car accident involved fire; lots of fire, 80% of his body was burned — what did I allow that little smidget of information about the accident do to my imagination?  You can only guess.  Finally, I went so far down the imaginary road of hell I actually believed for a while that I killed my son through my woeful anti-motherly neglect.

I allowed myself to remember every single parental infraction – that time I went off the deep end on him – and that look on his face, like he was slapped or something, was to haunt me forever now.  I worked too hard, went to school at night.  Belonged to every political and community organization that would have me.  I wasn’t there for Trevor.  He grew up to be killed over my early neglect.  More fantastical thoughts came and I let them buggers have a seat and get comfortable in the confines of my vulnerable mind too.  It was a party, complete with lots and lots of booze and pills to numb the fantasy when it got too much.

Soon, my imagination gave way to a complete emotional breakdown.  There was no where else to go.  Insanity, or death. That was it for me.  I was weaning off of anti-depressant, anti-anxiety, and even anti-psychotic drugs because I knew by then my life was a wasteland and not moving forward with them.  I didn’t want to feel drugged anymore.

In avoiding pain, I accumulated more of it.

Suddenly, clear thinking now, everything I had stuffed for almost five years came at me like a tidal wave.  My son was dead all over again.  My marriage ended in my oblivion, We lost access to our grandson.  We gained custody of our granddaughter. I was going bankrupt. Life was an utter mess and I was left to deal with it, chemical free.  The emotional pain was too much to bear, friends. And I made the decision to end it.  I could not tolerate the mental torture going on in my mind one more minute.  My thoughts literally drove me to insanity.

I chose death.

That fateful night I swerved hard-right onto a mountain wall speeding at 110 kmph (about 75 mph I think).  There was nothing but my car embedded into the mountain and me, as I was removed by emergency crews.  I was in shock, trying to comprehend a completely totaled car, and not a mark on my body or ache to my bones.  I didn’t tell the emergency crew who showed up in complete disbelief that I was alive, that I saw an angel in my steering wheel at the moment of impact.  The angelic face was as clear as the wall that I smashed into.

Everything made sense to me in that split second, that moment of impact.  I knew my time was not up.  No one goes until it is their time, and this was not it for me.

I suddenly had a mission.

I didn’t even stay in the hospital for much of a psychiatric evaluation (3 days mandatory I think).  I wanted to get home and get to work.  I had to completely destroy those drugs and get help.  I had to be honest with someone.  I killed my son and I needed to be punished out right, or just let me go. (Don’t ask, this is the stuff that was in my head.)  I knew I was at the bottom and there was no where else to go except up.  I said these very words to myself, “If I have to live, I insist on living in peace!”

I decided to start with hypnotherapy because I knew it was a stress relieving therapy, if nothing else, and I was filled to the rim with stress.  Little did I know that I would find myself in those 14 sessions.  I learned who I was, and more importantly, what I was doing to myself. The abuse I managed to give and take (from myself) was more than most people could bear.  I was allowing my imagination to be the Truth, when it was full of lies, judgments, misconceptions, ignorance, and being naive to the power of my own ability to drive myself insane.

My imagination got me into this mess, it also got me out!

So what is the Truth that set me free?  In the safety of hypnosis my therapist had me imagine Trevor was standing in front of me.  What would he say to me, regarding his upbringing?  Is it possible he would hug me? She had me imagine the words Trevor would speak, because I knew him the best, she said.   I sat and listened, …and the words he would have said came to me.  Wonderful love and support and compassion filled my head.  I was given my freedom back.  Imagining the Truth, the real Truth, brought me home.  I allowed my imagination to imprison me, punish me, and almost execute me.  Now I was using my imagination to understand the Truth.

In fact, my love for Trevor is the Truth.  The only truth that matters at all.  And my knowledge of his love for me is the same Truth.  There is no way my son would reject me, so I allowed myself to stop imagining he would.  My own worst case situation was a lying fantasy all along.

And hell finally left me alone.  Feelings of fear, worry, guilt, shame, anger, resentment, all receded, and were replaced with forgiveness, compassion and love.  Now, to me, only love is real.  Everything else is my enemy.  I seek out the Truth in all of my emotions, and every time, every single time, I win again.

We use our imaginations to scare ourselves to insanity, or death.  Now search for your Truth just by using your imagination to find it.  Believe in yourself.  Your good self.  Your real self.  Stop feeding the lies, and encourage the Truth in your own mind; it is what will not only allow you to survive, but thrive.

“That which can be destroyed by Truth, should be.” P.C. Hodge.

Do you like this article?  Please share with your friends and help spread the word of hope for the ones who thought there was none.

****************************************

Cherylann Thomas, B.Sc.Crim CH,t is now a Clinical Hypnotherapist registered with the International Medical and Dental Hypnotherapy Association.  She specializes in helping her clients resolve anxiety, depression, grief, loss and abandonment, weight loss, fears and phobias.  Cherylann has an extremely important ingredient to her successful therapy practice: Personal experience.  Non judgmental and compassionate, you can count on her to help you find the root of your internal conflict; your Truth.

Now available on Skype.  Please visit her website at http://www.mindmiracleshypnotherapy.ca and come like her Facebook page! http://www.facebook.com/mindmiracleshypnotherapy

wit02

A Fistful of Dimes!

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

I’ve been talking to my friends about these dimes I keep finding all over the house in places dimes shouldn’t be.  It’s so obvious it gets stupid sometimes…but it reminds me of the years immediately following my son’s death, I would find dimes in the strangest places…so many times I took notice.   I never heard of such blessings before; other than the cliché, Pennies From Heaven. but what’s with dimes, I wondered?

A few years into the dime gifts, I remembered something, and an awareness washed over me like a warm, loving blanket: Just one month before his death, on May 27th, I made a gift to my son for his 25th birthday. For some reason that birthday I wanted to make him a HOMEMADE cake, not an easy fix store-bought one anyone can buy.

Sidenote (squirrel) I like to share I am an amazing cook and even can my own stock, soups, stews, and even my girls’ dog food; but I know I have zero skills in the baking department (see the cake in question below). My son laughed so hard at my well-intentioned attempt but held it all back by covering his face with a birthday hat.

But wait, there was more to this homemade birthday cake: At the time I was formulating the type of cake I would make (choosing from a variety of boxed Betty Crocker cake mix), I remembered the delightful surprise of getting coins in my cakes as a child growing up. Well, either I got them or I saw a friend’s cake full of money once. I don’t remember precisely where the coins in a cake idea came from in my history, but I knew I wanted to put some DIMES in my son’s cake this year! And so I wrapped several dimes in wax paper and slipped them in his cake.  This memory / connection completely slipped my mind until years after Trevor’s death.

Trevor's dime cake

For some reason I was feeling very nostalgic and just wanted to give my son a homemade cake I had never given him before, with a surprise of dimes, representing my wish for peace, happiness, and abundance for his future, inside my homemade cake!

I know it’s taking a leap about the coincidence of dimes in his birthday cake and me finding a bunch of dimes after he passed. But keep reading…and these coinkydinks keep getting curiouser and curiouser.

So, that was a lovely sensation of understanding about my dime situation all those years ago. But now, here they are back. In the last few months I’ve again found a multitude of dimes, usually singularly. Today I was at a 7-11 store and my coin change for $5.12 worth of two beverages, was a fist full of dimes!  The clerk apologized repeatedly, as I starred with mouth wide open at what he had given me, him stating dimes was all he had for change.

Thanks to witness and photographer Arlana Tanner Sibelle, I have a photo of my dimes I am sharing here!

When I got home from our outing at the Penticton Angels and Fairies Expo (I can’t make this stuff up, because that is where I was all weekend), and pondered my blessing of all those dimes today in one fell swoop, another awareness washed over me, and I had to check my calendar!

Sure enough, today is June 14th: and is the last date I saw my son alive.  That day, June 14th, 2003, I was watching Trevor pack up his 1985 BMW (a wedding gift from his in-laws) with his final belongings from our house. Gary, Ximi, Trevor and I were chatting, hugging goodbye, chatting again…hugging again. In just two weeks Trevor would be starting his heavy duty mechanic career at International Trucking in Edmonton. Ximi was going to ‘nest’ their new apartment until the fall, when she would return to school to complete her Tourism Management Degree. Her dream was to open a club.

I was so happy for these young pups, who had struggled so hard to get to where they could finally begin a life together with new blessed beginnings.

After a final kiss and squeeze, the kids piled in the packed car. Slowly driving away, they both had their arms sticking out of the windows, waving goodbye. My husband and I hugged each other, walked up the steps back to our house, and something sharp shifted inside of me. I felt horrible, and no understanding as to why. I wasn’t one of those clingy mothers who would suffer severe empty nest syndrome; that’s not the way it felt.

The truth is, I knew. I didn’t know I knew until two weeks later, when, on June 28, 2003, my son was taken from us in a car accident. Today’s that anniversary of the last time I held my son. Today I got a fistful of dimes.

I never thought I would recover such a traumatic loss, of my only child.  But I have.  I now understand he was a gift for me, for a wonderful 25 years.  I cherish those memories, and believe I am who I am today because of his birth, and because of his death.