Knotweed

Dear people,

This blog is going to tell the story of the remedy Knotweed.
It will be a very intimate story but for me, this needs to be written.
It also got very long but I couldn't write it shorter.
Also, I have written this blog in "Madeleine-speak" and maybe journalistically incorrect but it is my story.

Always I write about what a remedy does. Now I do so based on my own experience and feel it is time to reveal this story to the outside world.
Yes, it got long but hope it will help those, who are touched by it, a little further.
In any case, it has helped me back a bit on my life path, after all, I am only 75 years old 🙂
The death of my beloved Robbie, who himself chose to end his life on earth, has given me unimaginable shock and trauma.
The struggle to "pick up" life again was an intense process and partly due to the unconditional support of my beloved son and friends (how grateful can you be) and the remedies, I was able to "cope" with life again.
But still, still something kept lingering that I couldn't put my finger on.
This finally made me decide to take the remedy Knotweed myself. And I always warn people who come to my practice about the effects of this remedy. I can never know what soul stirrings are subconsciously going on in people, which is why it often takes a very long time, and in consultation with the patient/client, to decide whether or not this remedy should be used.

I also exchanged views on this with Pierre Capel, and in particular on the effect of Gaba butyric acid.

What exactly is GABA?
Gaba is an abbreviation for Gamma-aminobutyric acid. We find this substance naturally in our brains. Gaba is essential for the regulation of a lot of different activities within our brain. One of the main functions of which is functioning as a neurotransmitter. People with too little GABA can suffer from anxiety disorders.
There is, of course, much more to read about this on the internet.

I've always said that Gaba butyric acid acts as a "lid", ensuring that very traumatic events don't surface and that you can live your life (not always, of course) without facing intense situations, which may have happened. That Gaba pretty much acts as a band-aid.
"Entering into your" process through remedies is, in my view, the deepest form of psychotherapy. To me, and I have been calling this out for 40 years, it means that remedies have an effect on neural networks. How I would love to have research on this. I have been to universities, explored the possibility of somehow conducting research on this. Any "double blind research" I dare. But no, so far, always zero to no avail. There is nothing to be gained from this. There is no patent to be had on this.
What the remedy Knotweed does is take that lid off the well and you may be confronted with emotions that you may not have even known existed and that you have tucked away deep down.
After taking Knotweed for three weeks, the nightmares came and so bad that I decided not to take the remedy anymore because I felt so "abandoned by God and the whole world".
I "quenched" this feeling with 3-Union and then things got better.

But that didn't get me there.
Since Rob had passed away, my voice got worse and worse and, despite all the love I received from my beloved son and my beloved friends, I withdrew more.
And "coincidentally", because I fell ill (laryngitis), I watched the series Unorthodox. And in it, too, I recognised the loneliness experienced by the protagonist.

The insights were now starting to come gradually.
In my book, I have already described that my mother was the only survivor (of the family) of World War II.
She had a big family. Her mother, my grandmother, had seven sisters, married, all children and it was, despite the poverty then, a big family who were always having "short or long" tea together.
Her father, my grandfather, had three brothers, also married and children. My mother had two brothers and a sister. And no one came back.
My parents went into hiding from 1943. My sister was born that year. The three of them survived the war. After the war, their house was gone; other people lived there.
Jewish people, who "came back" from concentration camps or from going into hiding, were not exactly welcomed with open arms in the Netherlands and the Red Cross did nothing but nothing to help these people while in other countries the Red Cross took care of people, who came back from the camps.

My father found a property on Stadionplein in Amsterdam where they could live, thankfully.
Due to hardship, especially in the hunger winter, my father fell ill after the war and contracted diphtheria. Recovery took two years. My mother was pregnant with me immediately after the war. When she went into labour, she weighed 101 pounds. I came into the world with a severe form of rickets and after nine months I contracted whooping cough. It is hard to imagine that my mother had to care for a seriously ill husband, a sick baby and small child of three in a house where there was barely any furniture and hardly any money to eat. There was no time to dwell on her grief, to "cope" with the great loss of her family. There was no spiritual support at all.
They received financial "support" back then, a small amount per month or week (I don't know) on which they could barely make ends meet and were regularly checked by officials, back then, to make sure they didn't have any cream butter in the cupboard because that was wasteful. (This according to my mother).

I was maybe about four/five/six years old. Friends came to my mother's house and I thought they were strange people. I thought they were excessive, I didn't feel comfortable with them. My mother told me later that they had been through terrible things, much worse than she had been through. Their pain was much worse than her pain of missing her family, the traumas they had experienced were even worse than her traumas because they had been in a concentration camp. My mother's friends were all survivors of the "experiment block" and what had happened to them (which I later heard) is too horrific to describe here.
My mother never told me exactly what happened to her and her family but I felt that through everything.

My birthday on 29 March was always surrounded by "something" that I could not give words to. It later turned out that my mother's brother and her father's birthday were also on 29 March. And yes, that date was the "run-up" to May 4 and 5.
Despite all this, I had a safe and loving childhood. My mother worked in theatre Carré in the coffee room at night and, as a result, my father always took me to bed. Every night a story about bunnies and, in those days we only had blankets, he tucked my blankets so tightly under the mattress that it hollowed a little and my bed felt like a safe little boat

I had no cousins, of course, and when my father put my sister and me in the shower, he always kept his pants on. He was very prudish and thought that was the way it should be. But I was curious. One time, while playing in the street, I noticed a little boy urinating against a tree. Well, my curiosity was piqued. Of course, I had never seen a dick before. I found that so exciting. And I started doing the same thing as that little boy and tried to pee against a tree. A woman in the street saw that, ran out and towards me and shouted that it was terrible what I was doing and she would go straight to my mother to tell her. I was horrified, ran home, went inside and yes, there came this woman on high alert at the door and told my mother that I had done something terrible. After she told me, my mother burst out laughing, called me from my room and said: Oh dear, that doesn't matter at all. That is quite normal and she took me in her arms and the lady sailed away, deeply offended.
Yes, how safe I have always felt. As I grew up, with anything, I always felt protected and safe.
I did have, when I was a bit older, the same dream quite often. My parents, sister and I went to a clearing in the forest. There was a hatch in the middle of the lawn. You could lift that hatch up and via a staircase you could go down, close the hatch and that way we were all safe.
So far a small glimpse from my childhood. And would you say that nothing serious happened and I grew up in a loving environment.

Well, after all the nightmares came when taking Knotweed, and I really don't remember what kind of nightmares, and I felt so lonely because of this, the insight came as to why I always put the pain or sorrow of everyone I loved and love first. Even in my practice. My patients/clients' sorrows, traumas, fears, insecurities you name it, I always thought were worse than my ............??????
Did I already "take" that in my mum's belly? She, pregnant with me, always at Central Station to check and inquire if any people had come back from the camps. Is that why I "brought" these emotions with me?
What Knotweed has "given" me is that I now have to/can "put myself first". That I too am important. That has not been the remedy Yarrow or Firethorn (which I have thought at times but I did not feel guilty and yes, I can shield myself well and can say no).
And the part that other people's is always much worse than what happens to me I "gave back" to my mother.

The last remedy, I made, together with Robbie (how is it possible) is the remedy Indian Almond and I just got through "I am". Now I am beginning to understand what this remedy means.

Yes, I MAY BE!

Maybe I will describe my story in a book one day. I don't know yet. But also each time it becomes clearer why I had to make remedies.
Should there be people, who recognise themselves, each in their own way, in my story, I will distribute 10 or 20 remedies to those, who have liked and shared my blog. But not Knotweed, oh no. No, it may be as a result of your story, that I will send you 3-Union or Christmas Plum but we can look at that together.
You can read my blog on Trinity. These I wrote on 7 and 12 August 2016. And a blog on Christmas Plum was written on 6 and 12 March 2016.

Madeleine Meuwessen
*Bloom remedies are no substitute for medication. Please note that in case of doubt you should always consult a doctor.