Was It A ‘Nervous Breakdown’ or Something Else?

I remember back then in the mid 80’s, a feeling of uneasiness creeping through my life.  I couldn’t put my finger on what was causing it but it felt like a deep wound somewhere inside me for which I had no words.  A sadness. A deep, deep, murky sadness.  I had seen things.  I had experienced things.  Things too awful for words to describe.

It was painful in the same way that an abscess that hasn’t quite come to the surface is painful.  It’s there, you know it’s there, but you can’t yet see it.  It’s not erupted yet.

I was used to feeling that way.  Carrying this sadness around.  This unaddressed wound that I didn’t know how I got.  It was part of me.

My life was pretty ordinary really – husband, children, house, job – tick, tock, tick, tock.

I remember watching TV and hearing the word ‘Chernobyl’ and my world shook but no-one would have noticed.  I tend to keep a straight face while I’m in shock.  And I tended also not to talk about how I could FEEL other people’s pain, HEAR other people’s thoughts, KNOW things before they happened.  And while my nervous system is sending pain signals round my body, I tend to kind of carry on as if nothing is happening.

I’m an old soul.  I’ve been here before.  And I’ve remembered past lives and forgotten them again – thankfully.

I’ve had such profound experiences, yet I’m just an ordinary human being, nothing special.  But I understand the world of feelings and how we can remember through our feelings not necessarily through our intellect.  We’re all different you see.  We may all be human but we all operate in different ways.  Some people are thinkers, others are feelers.  Both come to the same result – just via different routes.

I knew so much.  To Know.  Gnosis.  

I knew that I knew everything and nothing.  I was shown everything and nothing.  But it wasn’t an easy process.

The Pipes, The Pipes Are Calling

I nudged my husband in the arm, “Those bloody kids!  What in God’s name do they think they’re up to?  Listen to that din!”

We rolled out of bed at around 2.30am, not the happiest couple on the planet.  Our kids had friends staying over, we always filled the fridge and allowed them to ’sneak’ downstairs for a midnight feast when we’d all gone to bed – but this was going too far.

They were bang out of order making this din at this time of night.

I threw open the bedroom door and hurled myself onto the landing as the banging got louder and louder.  It sounded like a spanner being thumped onto a metal radiator – “Clang, clang, bang, thud!”

My husband followed, wrapping his dressing gown tightly around himself.  The clanging was louder out there on the landing.  Those kids were going right back to their parents and mine were going to see the whites of my eyes.

I came to a premature halt as my mind made a useless effort to make sense of something but couldn’t.

There were 4 children on the landing and two adults.  Two of the children were mine, two were their friends and the two adults were my husband and myself.

So who was relentlessly banging on the pipes with the spanner?

We all looked at one another with the same gormless expression and the words “Huh? Eh? Erm? Who … ” were randomly uttered from the various mouths which were wide open.

Suddenly my mind just KNEW.  I said “It’s OK, go back to bed.  It’s Dr Burda.  The Pipes … Danny Boy … Come the Millennium you will have KNOWLEDGE … it’s him … I have to write.”

What I had to write – I had no clue.  All I knew was that I had to go downstairs, switch on the computer and write whatever came through me.

I spent the next 7 years or so writing manically.  I couldn’t stop for more than a bite to eat. 

He had held his hands above my head when I was a child and the words he said were “Come the Millennium, you will have KNOW ledge.  You will just KNOW.”

And it wasn’t quite the Millennium yet.  But the knowledge came like a huge download of information and it came through me and out of my fingers.