It is 9 in the morning and I have slept really badly. Fear and negativity have ruled my night. I decide to call my doctor friend on my way to work.
The Mentalist has way of helping me heal the energy field that surrounds my physical body. I know intuitively that with his help I will be able to craft a new destiny for myself.
“Good morning,” I am happy to hear the comforting voice of my doctor friend, the Mentalist, that morning. I am very eager to talk to him. His voice instantly soothes me. “Am having anxiety attacks again. Not too bad, but still every evening/ night.”
“Really,” the Mentalist sighs down the phone. “Can you describe them?”
“Random thoughts of the past that keep popping in my head, memories… and makes me panic,” I start out telling him. “It’s a horrible world out there. People are bad, evil and sick.”
“I see,” the Mentalist starts out putting order to my ramblings. “Are you able to determine what triggers this during the day or is it based on looking to blame someone for your past experiences?”
“It is not my behaviour. It’s not my fault what happened to me,” I shout out defensively. “Maybe it’s because the kids are in holiday in France with David.”
“Fi I agree it’s not all your fault,” the Mentalist tries to calm me down. “The hardest thing you will ever do is take a hard honest look in the mirror. That’s because you won’t like what you see. I doubt David’s holiday time is the cause.”
“It reminded me of several things,” I explain.
“Your need for control might be though,” the Mentalist goes on. “Like what?”
“Once on our way to France I was followed by two men who looked like they were going to snatch Winston,” I tell him of my worst memories. “And Eric and not being able to get to France. And the horrible things I read in the newspapers makes me scared for my kids.”
“How are the last two sentences related?” the Mentalist makes clear that my communication is all but that.
“And Fred strangling me with his belt popped up too,” I am in total and utter despair as I remind him of all the unfortunate experiences I have to recount for myself. “I don’t know how they’re related. And what won’t I like in the mirror? I already don’t like myself too much… great to know it’s not nice.”
“Are you taking any medication at the moment?” the Mentalist probes.
“No,” I answer very shortly as I am offended he is suggesting I might be drugged.
“Even if I could explain the logic and process behind this it would not make any difference,” the Mentalist sighs heavily again. “All I can say is you must choose. Either these thoughts rule your life or you do. Try and decide what you get from this and what you get from ruling your life. Then choose which works better for you.”
“I want to design my own life,” I decide for myself there and then.
“What you will see in the mirror is a willing participant even if you were a victim,” the Mentalist explains gently. “You could have left any time.”
“I don’t want panic attacks like this winter,” I blubber. “Not with the men following me. Or when I was a little girl living at home.”
“Fear and negativity seem to play a big part in your life,” the Mentalist points out.
“After that yes you are right,” I admit reluctantly. If only life were really that easy. “I could have left. But I didn’t see that at the time. I felt trapped and had no idea I could leave. Sounds stupid, I know. Yes I guess.”
“I think perhaps your need for exhibitionism and need to be desired should be toned down a little these days,” the Mentalist offers as a solution.
“Ok that makes sense,” I am having an aha-moment. “Hadn’t thought of it like that, but ok. You mean my blogging and social media, right?”
“Ok so if you can recognise you could have left at any time you can do the same now,” the Mentalist goes on solving my muddled thought out problems. “By that I mean you can leave these attacks behind and make firm decisions about your life. Find a god to believe in. That will help. No I don’t mean your blog or social media. I mean your behaviour.”
“I don’t like Christianity very much, especially not Catholicism,” I answer thinking back to my years in high school run by Catholic nuns. “What exhibitionist behaviour do you mean then?”
“You are not restricted to anything,” the Mentalist explains about my need to find something to believe in. “Hug a tree religion is good too if it works for you.”
“I’m interested in Shamanism, is that ok?” I ask him dubiously. I have known my doctor friend to make fun of tree huggers before.
“Young girl looking for attention but not from everyone. You are too old for that now,” the Mentalist goes on to explain the accusation of exhibitionism. “Sure that’s OK. But for the right reasons.”
“I don’t go looking for attention at all,” I say to my defence, and suddenly I remember a picture I posted only yesterday. “I have Wim. Pieter is my gay friend!”
“Good you toned it down,” the Mentalist approves. “So all that other stuff is way in the past. Let it go. Your past shapes you so choose the good stuff and re-invent yourself.”
“Yes and stop reading newspapers,” I think out loud to myself. “The good stuff… my grandparents loved me to bits.”
“You don’t have the power to control the universe,” the Mentalist informs me of the obvious. “What you read in papers goes on in other people’s lives not in yours. Yes stuff like that.”
“Yes but those people exist,” I say looking around me half expecting to see a villain or a thug appear any minute. “That stuff happens and I don’t want it to. I have three beautiful children.”
“Do you know them personally?” the Mentalist asks me pointedly.
“No,” I answer rather flat, annoyed he is asking me to put my head in the sand.
“Then what does it have to do with you?” the Mentalist goes on to explain. “Don’t you have enough to do living with kids and Wim and nurturing friends?”
“Yes,” I admit he does have a valid point.
“Let the junk and noise go,” the Mentalist urges me gently again.
“I wish I could go back and save the little girl I was,” I tell him sadly. “I can’t. I shout at people who mistreat their kids. I can’t help it.”
“Why? You are who you are,” the Mentalist answers pointing out that despite everything I have turned out to be rather awesome. “All you can change is how you behave and interact. Happiness is defined by how well you adjust to life’s problems.”
“I can’t just stand by watching like everyone else,” I am on my own line of conversation still.
“What or who gave you the right to decide what is best for others?” the Mentalist attempts to set me straight. “Only time will tell if your parenting methods really worked out well.”
“True but shaking and hitting your child in public is not done,” I tell him aggravated.
“Ok so say something,” the Mentalist concedes. “Make a scene that’s good. Calling out abuse is a good thing to do. But responsibility must come with it.”
“Responsibility?” I ask him for I hadn’t thought of that.
“That’s abuse and should not happen,” the Mentalist goes on firmly. “Film it if you can and tell mommy to stop abusing her child or you will report her and hand over the film. Yes you must offer a better alternative and teach it to the abuser.”
“It was in the airport,” I recount to my doctor friend what had shocked me so much. “I just shouted at her. She shouted back. Then she cooled down and later I saw her talking calmly to her boy.”
“I see,” the Mentalist is getting a sense of what I am saying. “That helped.”
“Yes,” I smile relieved.
“I am going to work,” the Mentalist concludes. “You have a happy day. Don’t worry your kids are fine. They will be home soon and they will still love you to bits.”
“Have a nice day,” I answer fondly.
Which god shall I believe in, I go on questioning myself making my way to Brussels. Shamanism…
I invite you to rewrite your tired old stories and find your higher destiny; to devote your talents and skills to making the world a better place!