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Background

I was born in the summer of 1960 and grew up on a farm with three other siblings. Very early on, my mother started corporal punishment with a carpet beater.

At the age of 15, I was sent to Linz for an apprenticeship in the police kitchen. We had a dormitory during the week, where the other female apprentices were also accommodated, with supervision of course - the chef lived in the same house.

When I was given the day off, I went home. Instead of a greeting, I was greeted by my mother, who made me do all the work I had to do.

Traumatization (imprinting)

Work was very busy and as an apprentice I was already on evening duty and had to go to the hostel afterwards. If I missed the bus, I had to walk.

So once, when it was raining heavily, I asked my colleague from the service department if she could lend me an umbrella. There were some police officers sitting in the guest area. They were listening and one of them asked if he should drive me, which I accepted. He didn't drive me to the hostel, but raped me in the car, then threw me out of the car and drove away.

I could never tell anyone how guilty I felt: Shame, disgrace and a huge shock! I had got into his car, I couldn't tell anyone about it, I was severely traumatized.

First marriage and divorce

Years passed and at the age of 18 I met my husband. I recognized his tendency towards alcoholism, but suppressed it. A house was built, we had children - and during this time I only worked part-time in the local pubs.

The alcohol played such a serious role in my husband's life until I was 42, and after several epileptic seizures, it was my last hope to help him turn things around and I filed for divorce.

Finally, after the divorce, he started internal therapy. He was at the precipice of his life and I had paralysis on my right side. Not another step further or I'd be in a wheelchair and the children would fall by the wayside.

Second marriage and causal conflict ( repeated male violence)

At the age of 48, I met another man and we discovered we had things in common. He had a farm with lambs, goats, chickens and a dog - and we built our own snack station. He proposed to me and that sealed the deal, I thought - he must be serious.

But unfortunately, after a short time, his interest in helping out at the snack station faded. And his tendency to devote himself to the female guests was already becoming embarrassing. When he was asked about this, he was told that “I was just jealous and should leave him alone”.

The whole story then escalated: We got into such a disagreement and he became violent towards me. His response: “If you think you can run away, I guarantee you won't survive!”

The conflict content was therefore, on the one hand, “not being able to get rid of a shit/resistant dirt” (the situation with the violent man that I couldn't escape from), and on the other hand, directly or subsequently, a starvation/existence conflict (as I was aware that I would flee from him as quickly as possible).

I was therefore once again in a state of shock, with the difference that this time I was an adult and therefore more capable of acting than then.

Escape and conflict resolution

I decided to plan my escape very carefully. After about three months, I succeeded: I did my work, and when he drove to appointments, I could pack my things and put them away. It was a good thing that he was so covered up with his women's stories, he didn't notice anything. I managed to escape and the divorce was finalized after exactly four months.

One year later, I developed diarrhea with a lot of blood. The trip to the doctor and hospital in 2018 brought the diagnosis: main tumor colon, three liver foci and 30 metastases in the lymphatic system!

I must have been undergoing a proper regeneration. It seems that running away and then getting divorced wasn't enough of a solution; some time had to pass before I really felt safe from this man.

The doctors wanted to start chemotherapy straight away, followed by an operation and then more chemotherapy. As I refused this, I was given a six-month survival prognosis.

In the end, only the operation was carried out, in which all the “affected tissue” was removed at once. This was too much for my body, so I needed a lot of morphine afterwards and could only just be kept alive.

This procedure also no longer fulfilled the required recovery path and I felt myself being lifted out of my body, so I lifted myself upwards like an elevator and found a beautiful, huge flowering lime tree and a beautiful meadow of flowers at the top. There were lots of people dancing, playing music, laughing and just being happy. When they saw me, they came towards me beaming with joy. I felt someone touch me on the shoulder and I was guided back down and into my body like an elevator.

I refused chemotherapy from the outset, thanks to my 22-year acquaintance with the New Germanic Medicine and also lectures by Björn, who looked after me during this time before the operation and for many years afterwards to this day.

Additional considerations

In the case of the liver tumor, it is also conceivable that it developed during my first marriage. He wasted our income immeasurably by spending on alcohol, sweets, etc.

And that the SBS didn't dissolve over the next few years or reactivate with the next marriage.

Or that it was simply a scarred residual condition that was only accidentally found and diagnosed as a result of the colon examinations.

Metastases in the lymphatic pathways may have been diagnosed either because of the strong regenerative stresses of the degradation processes in the colon and liver, or they were in fact conflict-resolved phases of various minor self-esteem collapses and humiliations during the second marriage.