Isha
Senior Registered
I had spontaneous childhood memories/impressions/triggers of a PL. I've never tried to find out about any other PLs because the one I do have memories from is so bad. I've recently (3 weeks ago) found what could be possible validation of these memories. It was both a shock and a relief. The relief was because it explained all the problems/tragedy of this current life. I desperately wanted to talk to someone, but there was no one to talk to. Then I found this forum, but felt too hesitant to write about. It's all so overwhelming and personal (to me) and I'm afraid it will be trivialized. But, here goes.....
I'll try to put it in chronological order. (I haven't kept a journal/notebook).
Age 2 or 3: Have a spontaneous memory of looking out a window. I was on the second floor of an apartment building in a city (don't know where, some place in Europe). I was watching my husband as he walked down the cobblestone/brick street. He had just left the apartment and was going to work. I was age early 20s. My husband was wearing a suit, hat, nice overcoat and carrying a briefcase, so he must had had an office job. The only emotion attached to this is just feeling content and happy watching him. I don't know the time frame because men's fashions pretty much stayed the same from 1930s - 1950s, it was sometime then. (I was born in this life in 1955).
Also at age 2 or 3, I always had to go to sleep laying on my stomach because "it won't hurt so much if I get stabbed". I had a recurring impression of being "stabbed in the stomach" and for some reason thought it wouldn't be "as bad" if I got stabbed somewhere else. (I actually never thought about getting "stabbed" except in my "stomach"). I had an EXTREME fear of being stabbed in the stomach by a man.
This caused repeated continuous nightmares throughout my childhood and into adulthood. The nightmares were so bad that I dreaded night and was afraid to go to sleep at all for fear of the nightmares. I was also born with intestinal problems. My mother said the doctors were always changing my baby formula, but nothing really helped. Doctors couldn't find anything wrong, but I had intermittent severe doubling over knife-like intestinal pain throughout childhood. It recurred in adulthood when under stress.
Oddly, I wasn't particular afraid of knives, but was very cautious around them. With or without actually seeing a knife, I would get constant flashbacks of getting "stabbed". I would panic and immediately do whatever I could to stop the thought; vigorously shake my head, jump up and down, spin in circles, ANYTHING for distraction to NOT let that thought in my head. This continued until about the age of 12. At some point the image or word "bayonet" came in my head. But I honestly don't know if that was a "memory" or not.
My mother told me that as a baby (once I could crawl) I would get myself into the tiniest spaces. She was very frustrated by that, the spaces were so small she didn't know how I even managed it, and it was difficult for her to pull me out because the space was so tight.
I also had an EXTREME fear of having my bedroom door closed at night. EXTREME FEAR. This fear was much stronger than the fear of being stabbed. It would cause immediate terror and panic. Nightlights didn't help. My parents left my door open because of it, but as I got older I was terrified if THEIR bedroom door was closed. I asked them to keep it open but they said 'no' (which is understandable they needed privacy, but I was too young to know that. When their door was closed, I stayed awake all night shaking in fear too terrified to sleep. I didn't dare tell my parents I stayed awake all night). That was the last straw for them. They were already angry at me for having all the nightmares and considered me a "problem" and an "inconvenience". I didn't dare tell them about the 'stabbing' fear, they wouldn't have cared anyway. I desperately tried to please them so they wouldn't think I was such a "problem". I was an unnaturally obedient child, so much so that I always heard adults telling my parents they had never seen anything like it. So desperate to please and never do anything wrong. My mother just took it for granted and began neglecting me. My father was gone a lot with his job. I was completely taking care of myself by the age of 6 (getting myself off to school, cooking, etc). Naturally there was no one to turn to for comfort from the recurring fears and nightmares.
Age 7: I was outside and ran into the house to get something and then run back outside. The TV was on but no one was in the room (my mother usually watched her soap operas during the day). I glanced at the TV as I ran past and immediately froze. There was a (B&W) film of a woman walking slowly back and forth on a street in a city carrying a small baby. I started shaking VERY STRONGLY. The voice-over then said, "This woman had been carrying her dead baby for days". I kept shaking/trembling very strongly. I was gripped by shear terror. I couldn't move from the spot. I don't remember making any sound, but my mother flew into the room and started yelling at me to "stop it". She started very angrily yelling at me to "stop shaking!". I tried so hard to obey (knowing I would be in trouble if I didn't) but I couldn't stop standing, glued to the spot, and shaking. I had no idea what/where that film was about. My mother was angry at me and yelled, "oh great, now you're going to have one of your stupid nightmares again! Knock it off! That's about the Jews and it's not going to happen to you because you're not a Jew!" (Actually I am Jewish but didn't know about that until I was age 22). A few weeks later, the TV was on as I walked past. This time I saw helmets. Soldiers! I became overwhelmed with fear and terror. My mother (again upset with my reaction) said, "Oh stop it! Viet Nam is on the other side of the world! There's no war here! And stay away from the TV if you're going to act so ridiculous!"
After that, there were no further spontaneous memories or triggers. (Except looking in the mirror. I looked wrong. It wasn't me. Where was my black curly hair? Why was my hair straight and brown? That's not me). I also disliked cities. As far back as I can remember I always said I would live in the country because I hate cement and cities. Throughout the rest of my childhood I was just left with a constant fear of being stabbed in the stomach, the constant nightmares, and (because I was unloved and unwanted) a desperation to grow up and have a baby. I was obsessed with having a baby. The neglect that started when I was 6 turned into abuse by age 8 and I was also reduced to being a servant. My mother always called me "slave", and constantly said I was different and not one of "them" (the family). (I watched from the sideline as my younger brother and sister were loved, adored and pampered). I was horribly lonely and alone. I told myself that since I didn't have a family, and was unloved and unwanted, I would have a baby and make my own family when I grew up. I survived my childhood with the comfort (obsession) of having this baby when I grew up.
I never knew why the nightmares, fear of being stabbed, and fear of having the door closed was always a constant. I just had to live with it. I left home at 18 and my family has nothing to do with me to this day. They said I'm not "one of them".
I grew up and married young to the first man that came along because I was desperate/obsessed with having a baby. I didn't love him and he was abusive (which I assumed was "normal" since it was all I'd ever known) but I married him for the sole purpose of having a baby. We later divorced.
As a single parent, I took my baby and moved to Scotland (partly to escape the threats from by abusive ex). My 20s were mostly happy but it was always a struggle with one uphill battle after another. At 30 I moved back to America and remarried. He was also abusive. By 35 I was divorced again.
During the divorce I made an appt. with my rabbi to talk about it. (I never attended synagogue but I sent my son to Hebrew school every week. I had politely chatted with the rabbi when dropping off/picking up my son). While talking with the rabbi (during the divorce counseling) I don't remember how we got on the subject, but I brought up the recurrent nightmares/fear of stabbing. He asked about any other fears. I told him about the "weird" reaction I had at seeing the woman on TV when I was 7 and it bother me why/how that had happened. He asked about details. I said I was so focused on the woman/baby that I didn't remember anything else except she was in a city. I told him I REALLY wish I could see it again to look for details and maybe learn more why it affected me so badly. But it was impossible to find that film again. (This was in the 80s before computers). He said it was possible that the film was in the Holocaust archives. I was shocked. What did any of this have to do with the Holocaust? He said it could have been a PL trigger. I had never thought of that. He said he would take me to the archives in San Francisco (a couple hours away) to see if we could find the footage. We went, but unfortunately didn't call ahead, and the archives were closed that day. He said he would make an appt and we would go back again. But, then there were death threats from my husband that I was divorcing and I had to leave out of state and go into hiding. Obviously, we never went back to the archives.
My 30s were rough. The death threats from my ex were intended to scared me away so he would take all our assets in the divorce. It worked. He got everything and I was left penniless and a struggling single parent again. This time with a rebellious teenager. My son hated me with a passion for leaving behind the money. He never forgave me (even though the main reason I left was because his step-father was physically abusive to him. I would take the abuse to me, but I wouldn't tolerate abuse to my son). My son didn't care. He said he could fight back and take care of himself, but me leaving behind the money was unforgivable. I was so heartbroken and overwhelmed, I didn't have time for any more thoughts of reincarnation.
My son spent his gap year traveling around the world. I literally went without food and starved myself to come up with the money and make it happen for him (although he worked while he traveled). He didn't care, he still hated me. That was the last straw. After a lifetime of abandonment, neglect, abuse and being unloved, my son's hatred was more than I could take. The baby I had so desperately wanted, and had devoted myself to now hated me.
I started drinking. For more than 10 years. I drank at home alone. I would black out, before passing out. During these blackouts I filled notebook after notebook. In the morning,(not remembering anything) I would find them. All boiled down to the same thing. Page after page of "Alone!", "horribly alone!", "human garbage", "not human, just garbage", etc., etc. I hated the Universe. Why me? Why, why, why?! NO answers. I started reading books about reincarnation. The books were always droning on and on about 'karma'. Great. That's just great. So, I OBVIOUSLY was a REALLY, REALLY HORRIBLE person in my last life to deserve this life. I just wanted to die. Every night I hoped I would go to sleep and not wake up. I was so depressed every morning to find I was still alive. I didn't dare commit suicide because the "Universe"/"Source"/"God" was so unbelievably cruel, that "it" wouldn't allow me to escape without further punishment ('karma', according to the books). This was all a "lesson" I was supposed to be learning. What "lesson" was I supposed to be learning? No clue? No hint? Thanks "Universe"! Thanks for nothing!! I got online to look for answers. There were none. One day (about 10 years ago) I decided to look on YouTube for the film footage of that woman with the baby. Since the rabbi (way back in the 80s) thought it might be Holocaust related, I searched for Holocaust uploads. I found it! It was in the Warsaw ghetto. It was eerie to see again something that had had such a powerful effect on me as a child. I was glad I found it, but I felt numb this time. Just numb.
I gave up. The "Universe" was obviously not going to give me any answers. Since suicide was not an option (the "Universe" refuses to help and give answers, but he/she/it/they sure are big on dishing out punishment (karma), so to avoid that, I have to stick it out. I quit drinking. Cold turkey. And decided to get on with life. As miserable and lonely as it was. I kept busy with work, hobbies and volunteering but the loneliness was unbearable. I don't mean loneliness from living alone (I've gotten used to that and it's okay). I mean the loneliness of really being ALONE. People come and go in my life, but there's no family, no "best" friend, no "significant other" (obviously), and the biggest heartbreak of all, my son's hatred and not wanting to be in my life. (According to the books, my "soul group" is not around). But there's also not being able to get help. THAT has been a constant. For no explainable reason. I help others, but they don't help back. There's no one I can depend on. When I ask people why they'll help others but not me, they don't even know why! An example; The local mechanic LOVES working on cars. He works on everyone's car. Rich, poor, old, new, doesn't matter. He loves working on cars. Except mine. He wouldn't work on mine. It broke down and was towed away. It was years before I could afford another (used) car. I asked him why he didn't work on my car? He looked blank. Said he had no idea why. And that's the way life has been.
Three weeks ago I received some painful news. My son (who is 40 now), that I haven't seen in years (his choice) and his wife (that I've never met) are going to have a baby. My only grandchild, that I won't be allowed to be part of his/her life. So painful.....
I felt drawn to search (again) about reincarnation. I started reading "Journey of Souls" (which I'd already read) and ordered 2 more of Newton's books that I hadn't read yet. So desperate for answers! Over the course of several days I went back to the thought of "WHAT is the lesson I'm supposed to be learning?" (AS I've asked for YEARS!). In extreme anger I started cursing the "Universe" for withholding this information my whole life. Even though my life has followed a distinct pattern (since the day of my birth, literally, abandoned by my bio parents for being a girl) and this pattern was crystal clear to me, I still didn't know the "lesson"! What "lesson" was I supposed to learn from abandonment, neglect, abuse, and extreme aloneness? To learn to suffer? Check, got it! But. What. Is. The. Lesson?????????????
Directly after the angry outburst I felt drawn to find the film of "the woman" again. I found it quickly, but there was no narration.
I watched again, this time a different version of the footage. There was more info. Now the footage (taken by the Nazis as propaganda) was incorporated into a documentary (made in 2011) about the film footage itself. In the documentary, survivors from the Warsaw ghetto were watching the footage and commenting. When the scene with "the woman" came up, one survivor watching (who had been a child at the time) said he remembered the woman. He said she walked around every day begging for a piece of bread. She was dressed in rags. Her shoes didn't even match and were obviously too big for her. (That hadn't "processed" before because I was so focus on the woman-carrying-the-baby). Now I noticed how thin she was, and the rags, and had the new info that she was begging for bread. The image of her was a bit fuzzy, so I paused it. She had black curly hair. The black curly hair I was "supposed" to have! She didn't look anything like how I look in this life, but for as long as I can remember I missed not having my black curly hair! (Even when my son was born I was a bit stunned when I first saw him. Where was his black curly hair he was supposed to have?)
This time while watching, it hit like a ton of bricks! Information flowed into me like rain pouring down and I knew what the lesson was! Then I felt extreme relief! I had to back away and sit down. I felt like I'd just ran a marathon. I had to let it process.
The lesson is to learn to survive. Alone. That woman/me, didn't know how to do that (I have no idea what may have happened to her husband). Other people in the ghetto (those that survived) learned how to be resourceful. They took risks to survive. They smuggled food (and risked being shot if caught). They stole food. That woman/me didn't do that. She only knew how to beg. That obviously didn't work. In this life, out of necessity, I learned how to survive. I have been homeless, but I found safe places to hide. I have faced starvation, but learned how to find/forage food. How to boil water with candles. How to make the candles with wax from a beehive. Etc., etc. But most importantly, I could not have managed to do any of it if I had not stayed OUT of cities! I knew I couldn't survive in a city. The only hope was to be out in the country. I did it! I learned! I learned to literally survive.
This info wasn't given to me until now, age 61. I had to pass the test first. I felt incredible relief from this! Like the weight of a thousand worlds was off my shoulders! For the next few days I felt light as a feather, like I was walking on air. And so happy! Happy to be alive! Happy to know the answer!
After I "came down" from my euphoria, I realized there was still the unanswered question of the "fear of getting stabbed". That was still a puzzle. In the documentary, it said the footage was taken in May 1942. Then, 2 months later in July 1942, the Nazis began rounding up Jews and sent them to Treblinka. (Some where sent to Auschwitz but most to Treblinka). Treblinka was a death camp. Jews were killed within 2 hours of arrival, in gas chambers. Those that were too old, or too sick to walk were taken behind a building and shot (because they "slowed down" the process to the gas chambers. So they were just shot and thrown in a pit). Death was by gas or guns. No knives here. So where did this "stabbing" fear come from? Then I remembered the word "bayonet" from my childhood. Was the woman/me killed by a knife or bayonet in the Warsaw ghetto and never even made it to Treblinka? What happened?
So I watched any/all footage I could find of the Warsaw ghetto (and looked at still photos) and only focus on the soldier's guns. No sign of bayonets. Or knives. Then I watched anything I could find about Treblinka. Again, no sign of knives or bayonets. I kept searching. I heard about the transcripts from Eichman's trial. There was a testimony from a survivor of Treblinka who had been a Sonderkommando. I started reading it and felt shock when I read;
"The people who were the last to enter the gas chambers, the very last received stabs in the bodies from the bayonets, since the last persons already saw what was going on inside and did not want to enter.
Four hundred people were put into one small chamber, and when they forced them in, they, on their part, pressed inwards and in this way reached the full capacity, so that only with difficulty could the outer door of the chamber be shut."
http://www.holocaustresearchproject....testimony.html
Could this be the fear of getting "stabbed in the stomach" AND my extreme fear of closed doors as a child? (If this did happen to her/me, the being stabbed by the bayonet and having the gas chamber door closed would have happened at roughly the same time).
(ETA: I did get a "lightning bolt" reaction that this is what happened. I was interested in getting other people's opinions, because they would be objective).
Sorry what I wrote is so long. It's been almost 60 years waiting for answers so this is very emotional to me. Thank you so much for having a place I can 'talk' about this.
P.S. Am I off base putting these puzzle pieces together? It just feels like it's what happened. And the relief! The relief is greater than I can describe.
I'll try to put it in chronological order. (I haven't kept a journal/notebook).
Age 2 or 3: Have a spontaneous memory of looking out a window. I was on the second floor of an apartment building in a city (don't know where, some place in Europe). I was watching my husband as he walked down the cobblestone/brick street. He had just left the apartment and was going to work. I was age early 20s. My husband was wearing a suit, hat, nice overcoat and carrying a briefcase, so he must had had an office job. The only emotion attached to this is just feeling content and happy watching him. I don't know the time frame because men's fashions pretty much stayed the same from 1930s - 1950s, it was sometime then. (I was born in this life in 1955).
Also at age 2 or 3, I always had to go to sleep laying on my stomach because "it won't hurt so much if I get stabbed". I had a recurring impression of being "stabbed in the stomach" and for some reason thought it wouldn't be "as bad" if I got stabbed somewhere else. (I actually never thought about getting "stabbed" except in my "stomach"). I had an EXTREME fear of being stabbed in the stomach by a man.
This caused repeated continuous nightmares throughout my childhood and into adulthood. The nightmares were so bad that I dreaded night and was afraid to go to sleep at all for fear of the nightmares. I was also born with intestinal problems. My mother said the doctors were always changing my baby formula, but nothing really helped. Doctors couldn't find anything wrong, but I had intermittent severe doubling over knife-like intestinal pain throughout childhood. It recurred in adulthood when under stress.
Oddly, I wasn't particular afraid of knives, but was very cautious around them. With or without actually seeing a knife, I would get constant flashbacks of getting "stabbed". I would panic and immediately do whatever I could to stop the thought; vigorously shake my head, jump up and down, spin in circles, ANYTHING for distraction to NOT let that thought in my head. This continued until about the age of 12. At some point the image or word "bayonet" came in my head. But I honestly don't know if that was a "memory" or not.
My mother told me that as a baby (once I could crawl) I would get myself into the tiniest spaces. She was very frustrated by that, the spaces were so small she didn't know how I even managed it, and it was difficult for her to pull me out because the space was so tight.
I also had an EXTREME fear of having my bedroom door closed at night. EXTREME FEAR. This fear was much stronger than the fear of being stabbed. It would cause immediate terror and panic. Nightlights didn't help. My parents left my door open because of it, but as I got older I was terrified if THEIR bedroom door was closed. I asked them to keep it open but they said 'no' (which is understandable they needed privacy, but I was too young to know that. When their door was closed, I stayed awake all night shaking in fear too terrified to sleep. I didn't dare tell my parents I stayed awake all night). That was the last straw for them. They were already angry at me for having all the nightmares and considered me a "problem" and an "inconvenience". I didn't dare tell them about the 'stabbing' fear, they wouldn't have cared anyway. I desperately tried to please them so they wouldn't think I was such a "problem". I was an unnaturally obedient child, so much so that I always heard adults telling my parents they had never seen anything like it. So desperate to please and never do anything wrong. My mother just took it for granted and began neglecting me. My father was gone a lot with his job. I was completely taking care of myself by the age of 6 (getting myself off to school, cooking, etc). Naturally there was no one to turn to for comfort from the recurring fears and nightmares.
Age 7: I was outside and ran into the house to get something and then run back outside. The TV was on but no one was in the room (my mother usually watched her soap operas during the day). I glanced at the TV as I ran past and immediately froze. There was a (B&W) film of a woman walking slowly back and forth on a street in a city carrying a small baby. I started shaking VERY STRONGLY. The voice-over then said, "This woman had been carrying her dead baby for days". I kept shaking/trembling very strongly. I was gripped by shear terror. I couldn't move from the spot. I don't remember making any sound, but my mother flew into the room and started yelling at me to "stop it". She started very angrily yelling at me to "stop shaking!". I tried so hard to obey (knowing I would be in trouble if I didn't) but I couldn't stop standing, glued to the spot, and shaking. I had no idea what/where that film was about. My mother was angry at me and yelled, "oh great, now you're going to have one of your stupid nightmares again! Knock it off! That's about the Jews and it's not going to happen to you because you're not a Jew!" (Actually I am Jewish but didn't know about that until I was age 22). A few weeks later, the TV was on as I walked past. This time I saw helmets. Soldiers! I became overwhelmed with fear and terror. My mother (again upset with my reaction) said, "Oh stop it! Viet Nam is on the other side of the world! There's no war here! And stay away from the TV if you're going to act so ridiculous!"
After that, there were no further spontaneous memories or triggers. (Except looking in the mirror. I looked wrong. It wasn't me. Where was my black curly hair? Why was my hair straight and brown? That's not me). I also disliked cities. As far back as I can remember I always said I would live in the country because I hate cement and cities. Throughout the rest of my childhood I was just left with a constant fear of being stabbed in the stomach, the constant nightmares, and (because I was unloved and unwanted) a desperation to grow up and have a baby. I was obsessed with having a baby. The neglect that started when I was 6 turned into abuse by age 8 and I was also reduced to being a servant. My mother always called me "slave", and constantly said I was different and not one of "them" (the family). (I watched from the sideline as my younger brother and sister were loved, adored and pampered). I was horribly lonely and alone. I told myself that since I didn't have a family, and was unloved and unwanted, I would have a baby and make my own family when I grew up. I survived my childhood with the comfort (obsession) of having this baby when I grew up.
I never knew why the nightmares, fear of being stabbed, and fear of having the door closed was always a constant. I just had to live with it. I left home at 18 and my family has nothing to do with me to this day. They said I'm not "one of them".
I grew up and married young to the first man that came along because I was desperate/obsessed with having a baby. I didn't love him and he was abusive (which I assumed was "normal" since it was all I'd ever known) but I married him for the sole purpose of having a baby. We later divorced.
As a single parent, I took my baby and moved to Scotland (partly to escape the threats from by abusive ex). My 20s were mostly happy but it was always a struggle with one uphill battle after another. At 30 I moved back to America and remarried. He was also abusive. By 35 I was divorced again.
During the divorce I made an appt. with my rabbi to talk about it. (I never attended synagogue but I sent my son to Hebrew school every week. I had politely chatted with the rabbi when dropping off/picking up my son). While talking with the rabbi (during the divorce counseling) I don't remember how we got on the subject, but I brought up the recurrent nightmares/fear of stabbing. He asked about any other fears. I told him about the "weird" reaction I had at seeing the woman on TV when I was 7 and it bother me why/how that had happened. He asked about details. I said I was so focused on the woman/baby that I didn't remember anything else except she was in a city. I told him I REALLY wish I could see it again to look for details and maybe learn more why it affected me so badly. But it was impossible to find that film again. (This was in the 80s before computers). He said it was possible that the film was in the Holocaust archives. I was shocked. What did any of this have to do with the Holocaust? He said it could have been a PL trigger. I had never thought of that. He said he would take me to the archives in San Francisco (a couple hours away) to see if we could find the footage. We went, but unfortunately didn't call ahead, and the archives were closed that day. He said he would make an appt and we would go back again. But, then there were death threats from my husband that I was divorcing and I had to leave out of state and go into hiding. Obviously, we never went back to the archives.
My 30s were rough. The death threats from my ex were intended to scared me away so he would take all our assets in the divorce. It worked. He got everything and I was left penniless and a struggling single parent again. This time with a rebellious teenager. My son hated me with a passion for leaving behind the money. He never forgave me (even though the main reason I left was because his step-father was physically abusive to him. I would take the abuse to me, but I wouldn't tolerate abuse to my son). My son didn't care. He said he could fight back and take care of himself, but me leaving behind the money was unforgivable. I was so heartbroken and overwhelmed, I didn't have time for any more thoughts of reincarnation.
My son spent his gap year traveling around the world. I literally went without food and starved myself to come up with the money and make it happen for him (although he worked while he traveled). He didn't care, he still hated me. That was the last straw. After a lifetime of abandonment, neglect, abuse and being unloved, my son's hatred was more than I could take. The baby I had so desperately wanted, and had devoted myself to now hated me.
I started drinking. For more than 10 years. I drank at home alone. I would black out, before passing out. During these blackouts I filled notebook after notebook. In the morning,(not remembering anything) I would find them. All boiled down to the same thing. Page after page of "Alone!", "horribly alone!", "human garbage", "not human, just garbage", etc., etc. I hated the Universe. Why me? Why, why, why?! NO answers. I started reading books about reincarnation. The books were always droning on and on about 'karma'. Great. That's just great. So, I OBVIOUSLY was a REALLY, REALLY HORRIBLE person in my last life to deserve this life. I just wanted to die. Every night I hoped I would go to sleep and not wake up. I was so depressed every morning to find I was still alive. I didn't dare commit suicide because the "Universe"/"Source"/"God" was so unbelievably cruel, that "it" wouldn't allow me to escape without further punishment ('karma', according to the books). This was all a "lesson" I was supposed to be learning. What "lesson" was I supposed to be learning? No clue? No hint? Thanks "Universe"! Thanks for nothing!! I got online to look for answers. There were none. One day (about 10 years ago) I decided to look on YouTube for the film footage of that woman with the baby. Since the rabbi (way back in the 80s) thought it might be Holocaust related, I searched for Holocaust uploads. I found it! It was in the Warsaw ghetto. It was eerie to see again something that had had such a powerful effect on me as a child. I was glad I found it, but I felt numb this time. Just numb.
I gave up. The "Universe" was obviously not going to give me any answers. Since suicide was not an option (the "Universe" refuses to help and give answers, but he/she/it/they sure are big on dishing out punishment (karma), so to avoid that, I have to stick it out. I quit drinking. Cold turkey. And decided to get on with life. As miserable and lonely as it was. I kept busy with work, hobbies and volunteering but the loneliness was unbearable. I don't mean loneliness from living alone (I've gotten used to that and it's okay). I mean the loneliness of really being ALONE. People come and go in my life, but there's no family, no "best" friend, no "significant other" (obviously), and the biggest heartbreak of all, my son's hatred and not wanting to be in my life. (According to the books, my "soul group" is not around). But there's also not being able to get help. THAT has been a constant. For no explainable reason. I help others, but they don't help back. There's no one I can depend on. When I ask people why they'll help others but not me, they don't even know why! An example; The local mechanic LOVES working on cars. He works on everyone's car. Rich, poor, old, new, doesn't matter. He loves working on cars. Except mine. He wouldn't work on mine. It broke down and was towed away. It was years before I could afford another (used) car. I asked him why he didn't work on my car? He looked blank. Said he had no idea why. And that's the way life has been.
Three weeks ago I received some painful news. My son (who is 40 now), that I haven't seen in years (his choice) and his wife (that I've never met) are going to have a baby. My only grandchild, that I won't be allowed to be part of his/her life. So painful.....
I felt drawn to search (again) about reincarnation. I started reading "Journey of Souls" (which I'd already read) and ordered 2 more of Newton's books that I hadn't read yet. So desperate for answers! Over the course of several days I went back to the thought of "WHAT is the lesson I'm supposed to be learning?" (AS I've asked for YEARS!). In extreme anger I started cursing the "Universe" for withholding this information my whole life. Even though my life has followed a distinct pattern (since the day of my birth, literally, abandoned by my bio parents for being a girl) and this pattern was crystal clear to me, I still didn't know the "lesson"! What "lesson" was I supposed to learn from abandonment, neglect, abuse, and extreme aloneness? To learn to suffer? Check, got it! But. What. Is. The. Lesson?????????????
Directly after the angry outburst I felt drawn to find the film of "the woman" again. I found it quickly, but there was no narration.
I watched again, this time a different version of the footage. There was more info. Now the footage (taken by the Nazis as propaganda) was incorporated into a documentary (made in 2011) about the film footage itself. In the documentary, survivors from the Warsaw ghetto were watching the footage and commenting. When the scene with "the woman" came up, one survivor watching (who had been a child at the time) said he remembered the woman. He said she walked around every day begging for a piece of bread. She was dressed in rags. Her shoes didn't even match and were obviously too big for her. (That hadn't "processed" before because I was so focus on the woman-carrying-the-baby). Now I noticed how thin she was, and the rags, and had the new info that she was begging for bread. The image of her was a bit fuzzy, so I paused it. She had black curly hair. The black curly hair I was "supposed" to have! She didn't look anything like how I look in this life, but for as long as I can remember I missed not having my black curly hair! (Even when my son was born I was a bit stunned when I first saw him. Where was his black curly hair he was supposed to have?)
This time while watching, it hit like a ton of bricks! Information flowed into me like rain pouring down and I knew what the lesson was! Then I felt extreme relief! I had to back away and sit down. I felt like I'd just ran a marathon. I had to let it process.
The lesson is to learn to survive. Alone. That woman/me, didn't know how to do that (I have no idea what may have happened to her husband). Other people in the ghetto (those that survived) learned how to be resourceful. They took risks to survive. They smuggled food (and risked being shot if caught). They stole food. That woman/me didn't do that. She only knew how to beg. That obviously didn't work. In this life, out of necessity, I learned how to survive. I have been homeless, but I found safe places to hide. I have faced starvation, but learned how to find/forage food. How to boil water with candles. How to make the candles with wax from a beehive. Etc., etc. But most importantly, I could not have managed to do any of it if I had not stayed OUT of cities! I knew I couldn't survive in a city. The only hope was to be out in the country. I did it! I learned! I learned to literally survive.
This info wasn't given to me until now, age 61. I had to pass the test first. I felt incredible relief from this! Like the weight of a thousand worlds was off my shoulders! For the next few days I felt light as a feather, like I was walking on air. And so happy! Happy to be alive! Happy to know the answer!
After I "came down" from my euphoria, I realized there was still the unanswered question of the "fear of getting stabbed". That was still a puzzle. In the documentary, it said the footage was taken in May 1942. Then, 2 months later in July 1942, the Nazis began rounding up Jews and sent them to Treblinka. (Some where sent to Auschwitz but most to Treblinka). Treblinka was a death camp. Jews were killed within 2 hours of arrival, in gas chambers. Those that were too old, or too sick to walk were taken behind a building and shot (because they "slowed down" the process to the gas chambers. So they were just shot and thrown in a pit). Death was by gas or guns. No knives here. So where did this "stabbing" fear come from? Then I remembered the word "bayonet" from my childhood. Was the woman/me killed by a knife or bayonet in the Warsaw ghetto and never even made it to Treblinka? What happened?
So I watched any/all footage I could find of the Warsaw ghetto (and looked at still photos) and only focus on the soldier's guns. No sign of bayonets. Or knives. Then I watched anything I could find about Treblinka. Again, no sign of knives or bayonets. I kept searching. I heard about the transcripts from Eichman's trial. There was a testimony from a survivor of Treblinka who had been a Sonderkommando. I started reading it and felt shock when I read;
"The people who were the last to enter the gas chambers, the very last received stabs in the bodies from the bayonets, since the last persons already saw what was going on inside and did not want to enter.
Four hundred people were put into one small chamber, and when they forced them in, they, on their part, pressed inwards and in this way reached the full capacity, so that only with difficulty could the outer door of the chamber be shut."
http://www.holocaustresearchproject....testimony.html
Could this be the fear of getting "stabbed in the stomach" AND my extreme fear of closed doors as a child? (If this did happen to her/me, the being stabbed by the bayonet and having the gas chamber door closed would have happened at roughly the same time).
(ETA: I did get a "lightning bolt" reaction that this is what happened. I was interested in getting other people's opinions, because they would be objective).
Sorry what I wrote is so long. It's been almost 60 years waiting for answers so this is very emotional to me. Thank you so much for having a place I can 'talk' about this.
P.S. Am I off base putting these puzzle pieces together? It just feels like it's what happened. And the relief! The relief is greater than I can describe.
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We are all here to help each other, so many of us have been through tough times and know how upsetting/invigorating/uplifting/depressing/confusing/clarifying etc etc all this past life stuff can be. I read through your whole post.
