The terror memories (from World War II) from a grandmother, brought to life without a will by her niece.

A woman appeared one day in the door frame with a terrified expression on her face, trembling and saying "I need your help to figure out what happens to me!

With mellowed voice I told her to take a seat.

• Please tell me what happened.

She burst into tears, tears form the soul, with hiccups and tears streaming down her face.

• I have a wonderful husband, but I have a great terror to have a baby, I am afraid that I will lose him somehow..... and something else, I have some memories that are not mine, It can not be mine, form wartime world ... there are not memories of a movie and are all too real and I feel them almost every night. I'm afraid to fall asleep because I would dream of living in terror and run.

Her story begins like this :

This woman (aged 32), a businesswoman who lives apparently living the dream with her husband who has the same age, she could not conceive the idea of ​​having a child, living with the fear that something will happen to him, that will be lost, will suffer or die.

Step by step, day by day (coming every day surely), we managed to restore the thread of memories from childhood where there was a subconscious trigger. She would listen to stories of the grandmother before going to sleep in the night.

Grandmother now has dementia and schizophrenia, can not give her the information she need.

Grandmother's story sounded like this :

I was young and I was running, running away from terror and slavery, in the running I suffered the loss of parents in a shootout, fleeing to live to have you, to live live nice not like me...

One night when I was having dinner with my parents in a quiet candlelight, a noise destroyed everything they built. That evening I wanted more than ever to live, in whatever and wherever way.

While I ate, dozens of bullets broke the windows of the house, we fell to the ground. I took my parents tugging them, dragging them on the floor so I could go to another room without windows to guard against bullets. My mother was wounded in the hand, but something superficial, my father was shocked and could not speak, just look at me wide-eyed and speechless. I encouraged and managed to put in a bag found in the cellar some old clothes, papers, bread, cheese and salami. I waited a bit to calm down the noise and went with my parents to the station.

Running, my eyes record everything they saw ... it was chaos, people were lying on the ground, people full of blood, lost people that do not know what to do, a panic set.

The station was full of people with huge guns, we hid in the bushes to wait a train and to climb in it on the fly. After an hour, a passing train was going slowly ... we got him running. I had a beautiful long dress, boots and a beige jacket, the dress tattered while I got on the train, was my favorite dress ... We hid in the bathroom with my parents in the last wagon. We locked the door and we gathered all three on the floor of the toilet.

After a night sleeping huddled, we woke up by a screaming and footsteps of thick iron shoes ... we left the toilet and we were hanging half-open door of the wagon train. In the speed of the train we stood clinging to pieces of iron from the door, wait for those barbarians. They wanted fugitives in their search ... and they caught my parents who were were afraid to jump from the train, I could tell that they wanted to get caught ... I throw myself at high speed, falling in a wheat field. I scratched everywhere ... then go along again, running along the rail, hoping that another train will pass ... and at last it did ... I got him ... wanted to hide again in the toilet, but when I open the door, other 4 people were already there, I had no place ... I had nowhere to hide ... so I stayed on the cold floor hallway .. iron ... and slept a bit. I did not cry, I just wanted to get away from everything. I awoke when a man pulled me, then the four men came out of the bathroom and I was saved, they said that I look like their daughter who died in a shootout ... I kept silent, I did not said nothing about my parents that they wanted to finish the life leaving me alone.

It was night ... and I was running under tunnels, it was dark and raining ... I stopped the run, I was hungry, I was thirsty, looking in garbage hoping I would find something to feed me. Then I saw a dog that was carrying in his mouth a little white blanket ... dirty, I managed to get close to him and great was my surprise to see that the animal was trying to save a baby ... baby was a few months, small but not crying, was malnourished, she was covered in blood ... I stood by him praying to find food to give him something ... but after a few hours died. I cried like I cried after my child ... because I wanted to live! To be there for my child, to not get hurt like that!

In my quest for shelter, a soldier took me by force into a car .. a soldier who I fell in love at first sight ... he was running too, he could not kill and torture people no more. We ran together ...

After a while I said to him that he will be a father, he was so happy ... but I lived with a lie, I could not tell him the truth ... he was not the father, he knew I had to born the child prematurely, he knew nothing ... he did not know that in my running from terror I was pregnant with you my love ..

I, as a counselor I was astonished ... the grandmother told her the same story every evening since she was 3 years old to 5 years old when she started to ask questions, then the story stopped.

But this mature woman, realized that she had a fear to conceive a child with the man she loves, when he said how much he wants to be a father ... dreams, nightmares lasted for more than half a year .. . lost weight 15 kg, barely worked, no longer loved herself ..

Mothers, make sure what you tell to your children, the little ones can not answer you, but your child may assimilate the information, then thinking that those are their own memories, if often narrated many times.

Posted from my blog with SteemPress : http://laviniaterapeut.org/uncategorized/a-new-project-has-began-to-bloom-steempress-hand-in-hand-with-wordpress-write-on-wordpress-and-get-rewarded-by-steempress/

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