I (female) am now 40 years old and have had asthma since I was 4 years old.

According to the stories, I previously had middle ear infections and bronchitis alternately in a half-year rhythm.

By the way, the doctors said that the recurring bronchitis was the trigger … and the old damp house in which we lived at that time … and the stuffy air in our valley due to industry … and my then house dust allergy … and my then mite allergy … and my then cat allergy … and my then mold allergy … and what do I know what else.

Today I know my trigger … and I find it thoroughly ingenious!

The story about this is less ingenious. My parents quarreled from the beginning of their relationship, and this partly very violently, also by frequent alcohol consumption. When my brother and I were already in bed, we should get nothing of it almost constantly. My brother and I got this then because our common children’s room was directly above the “dispute living room,” but every time.

I can remember very well that each time I thought my ears were getting bigger and moving on their own, I could hear exactly everything that was going on down there (now guess where my middle ear infections came from!).

Now about my trigger:

One night the quarrel between my parents was so violent that probably my mother got scared of my father and fled to our children’s room. How this played out in me at that time was: Mother comes into our room dissolved and frightened, locks the door behind her, and sits down on my bed. I hear father rumbling up the old wooden stairs. Loudly he knocks, hammers, and rattles on our room door. I stared at the iron old door lock the whole time; I could still record it today. I can remember being insanely afraid that he would somehow manage to get in, and this, although I was never afraid of my father – on the contrary! My father was always very loving to me until his death and would never have raised his hand against me. But the whole situation was terrifying for me as a 4-year-old.

I guess, or rather it must have been, that I had my DHS that night, with all kinds of “track traffic.” What came after that were countless “seizures,” which in turn brought me to the hospital countless times.
 
Then at some point, when I was about 11 years old, the doctors came up with the great idea: it must be psychological! So, there followed a hospital stay in Klagenfurt in what I perceived as a child psychiatric ward for the not-so-crazy — it was called the Curative Education Institution.
 
This stay was initially supposed to last a month. I felt very out of place and imprisoned there, coming as I did from a small village where all the children played happily outside all day after school and only went home after long shouts from their parents “when it got dark.” An entirely different world overtook me in the “Heile,” as the children there called it. No parents, no brother, no friends. We were locked up in our ward and had bars in front of the windows that could only be tilted. I also experienced some pretty nasty things there that I would not have thought possible. One twelve-year-old boy kept having fits of raving madness, which then caused him to be “caged” all night, which was a caged bed with bars on top as well. Psychologically very valuable for sure! Then we had many children who tried to run away again and again. A “friend” cut her wrists there … and so on … and so on.

However, my condition did not improve.

The psychiatrist, who once beat her office to smithereens in front of our children’s eyes (she later became the manager), took away my spray one day just like that, which reopened my bronchial tubes during an asthma attack. This was followed by mortal fears and literally full pants every time I had an attack, as my body completely cramped up, gasping for air every time.
I had no help to expect except hand-holding from my favorite nurse. She was not allowed to give me anything! When I described this to my mother on the phone (she called me every day), she secretly brought me a spray during the next visit …

After half a year (!), the “therapy” was finally finished, I was allowed to go home. However, I had to leave my favorite class at school because I had to repeat a year … again all my friends are gone. As you can imagine, the problem was still not resolved!
I got a diary from my aunt at my next hospital stay …. her written words in it … “to your Xth hospitalization…”. There I really started to write in this book, which certainly helped me to sort out my thoughts.

My last hospital stay was when I was about 12 1/2 or 13 years old. There I was pumped so much cortisone into me for two weeks that my mother almost didn’t recognize me when she visited me. Today my skin is still partly so transparent that you can count the veins underneath. As a result, I had to go to the pediatric clinic in Graz every six months (until I was too old for that) for an examination.

But then came the first turning point. I had my first boyfriend and became more and more detached from home. Nevertheless, I had seizures on and off until I was 38, but they never got so bad again that I was unconscious.

One day in September 2011, my father passed away. As a result, my asthma got worse again, and I went to a doctor in December and asked for help and maybe pulmonary rehab. However, it took less than two days after seeing the doctor, and my asthma was gone! I certainly had the epileptic crisis at that time that made me go to the doctor because it was so bad. Indeed, my subconscious registered that this scare-fright-conflict could not come again because of my father’s death, so I solved the conflict.

One time my lungs spoke up again after a scare-fright conflict: My dog had picked up a scent and wanted to run across a street, wherein my mind I could already see the car driving over my Gina. I knew that she would not listen to me in this situation and would not stop her sprint. I screamed my head off and probably because my dog was scared of me, she turned around and ran towards me – my heart dropped! It took only a few minutes, and I had no voice and no air but was not afraid – I knew the Germanic now long enough!

This is my conventional medicinespontaneous healing” – brilliant!

 


Note by H. Pilhar

The things they do to children out of ignorance …

A conflict is resolved when it can no longer happen. You can see that beautifully in this testimonial. Equally, well seen is how the tracks and thus the redivide past the mind. With the friend (weaning), the tracks were avoided more and more and the seizures less. But only the father’s death brought the definitive conflict resolution, since he was also the cause of her asthma (although she loved him).

And the inability of this school medicine becomes likewise clear. In the absence of knowledge about the cause, their assumptions drive the most grotesque blossoms, likewise in their therapy! Unworthy of human beings! We really still live in a superstitious, tyrannical, and misanthropic time … It is time to do “enlightenment”!

Asthma: a schizophrenic constellation in the territorial area. When the bronchial musculature spasms (solution, epileptic seizure) and there is an active conflict somewhere in the opposite territorial area, the bronchial asthma attack occurs for the duration of this crisis.

Cause: depending on the handedness and hormonal situation, a scar-fright conflict (female) or territorial fear conflict (male).

 

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