Trapped Versions of Myself

how the past impacts the future

How often do we forget that time is not linear. However, our understanding and comprehension of time tends to be. Linear time is an imposed construct we added in order to navigate Earth more easily. When you zoom out into the vastness of the cosmos, few other planets adopt this approach. Time is bendy.

The topic of trauma has bludgeoned its way onto the scene in recent years. Most of it goes in one ear and out the other as if it were uttered by the mom from Charlie Brown — wah wah wah, wha. Trauma! Trauma! Trauma! [eye roll] It's not because I'm dismissive of trauma, rather, I'm dismissive of perceived trauma that is actually lack, or altogether absence, of emotional or cognitive development. My patience for people who wish to complain about the state of their lives without putting in any effort toward improvement is virtually nonexistent.

What's more, in my experience, those who have experienced trauma with a capital T are typically the ones who say the least about it. This tends to be for one of two reasons — they've processed it and moved on, or they're not yet ready to address it. These are opposite ends of the spectrum. Those who are in the middle of dismantling the energetic hold those events have on them aren't making TikTok videos or Instagram Reels spewing their pain to the world.

I railed on Gabby Bernstein for emphasizing in an interview with Lewis Howes, “[D]on’t say it until you’re ready to say it because if you’re still holding all that shame, people will feel that shame in your experience," regarding discussing her childhood sexual abuse in an article for The New York Times. It was so evident that she was still in the thick of dealing with all aspects of her shame and her trauma — a prime example of do what I say not what I do. The energetic patterns are completely different for someone who has fully processed an event versus someone who is still bound to it.

What's more, the methods that I see suggested on social media for "how to heal your trauma" are ineffective and self indulgent. They lead you round and round in circles with no off ramp. This approach makes a heck of a lot of money for the coaches and experts but offers little relief for those who feel upheaval from past life events.

Unraveling the hold trauma has over you and removing the energetic imprint looks different for everyone, yet another reason that I don't think that the next great course for the magically special price of $333 or $444 will do the trick. What it truly requires is a multi-faceted, layered approach. That's way harder to package in an online package.

What has me so hot on this topic, you ask? Why a horrendous bout of paralysis, but of course.

For the past three weeks, I've barely been able to move from bed. For the three days leading up to the story that I'm about to share, I was frozen from within minutes of waking until my body became so physically exhausted from the tension and stress of immobility that it put itself to sleep. All but five to ten minutes a day were spent barely being able to roll over and certainly not being able to speak.

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Red Light. Green Light.

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Knowing that it's always aliens, I went poking around in my past to see what energetic hold they still had. Now, this is where these concepts start to intersect. Since time isn't linear, aliens of 'today' can attack versions of you in the past. Often we're too strong in our current states for them to take us on directly, so they find a more vulnerable version to pursue with the explicit intent to destabilize us in the here and now.

What this means from our perception of time is that the events we experienced earlier in life can be precipitated by events and encounters years in our future. It's a bit like the philosophical question, "Would you kill baby Hitler?" The same vulnerability to a younger version of yourself applies.

Now, I'm not saying that these experiences are or are not trauma. That label doesn't seem helpful. They're simply events in your past that still have an energetic hold or influence on you today, a bit too wordy for a hashtag. Here's where a story might be helpful.

In eleventh grade, I was swallowed whole by depression precipitated by being at the wrong school with the wrong teachers and the wrong people. The fit was terrible. Not knowing what we do now, my family sought advice from my doctor. He suggested antidepressants and cognitive therapy. You can guess where this is going. As happens all too often, the initial drugs weren't working. Shocking!! None of the environmental factors had changed. I was still miserable in school and had actually stopped attending. Of course I was still depressed.

Time to try different meds!! Let's throw in some for insomnia just for kicks. This was during the era that Ambien was all the rage, and I was convinced that the popular commercial with Abraham Lincoln talking to a beaver was taken from an actual dream one of the trial patients had. My dreams have never been so unhinged and disturbed. I know now that too was alien intervention. Ick.

Within the course of a few months I had been taken on and off Paxil, Wellbutrin, Prozac, and Zoloft. That last one was the real kicker. Thank goodness there weren't as many antidepressants and SSRIs on the market in the late nineties as there are today. Who knows how much further the juggling attempt of finding "the right meds" would have wrecked my system.

Prior to taking Zoloft, I had wanted to burry myself in bed never to emerge from under my sheets. I had not, however, had any suicidal thoughts or ideations. The world merely seemed dark and bleak. Within 24 hours of taking the first Zoloft pill, I wanted to kill myself. My rational mind knew that I would never act on it. I knew the horrors it would cause in the lives of those who loved me. Staying alive was more for them than it was for me. The idea of being taken out by a big truck sounded awfully appealing though.

I found a way to tell my mom that I needed to get off of the medication without going into great detail about the dark thoughts that were now constantly occupying my mind. This might have been around the time that my bedroom door was taken off the hinges and tucked down in the basement. Even though I had stopped taking Zoloft, my brain remained scrambled.

Twenty-six years later, I found myself paralyzed in bed. Scanning the energetic horizon, I knew that nothing in my current sphere was causing it, even though a recent encounter had triggered it. What I found was a sixteen year old version of me hiding in the therapist's office hoping beyond hope that the aliens wouldn't spot her. She had been under constant attack for over two decades.

The veracity of the attacks had ebbed and flowed over the years. It explains why some periods of my life were more physically functional than others. Trauma. Not Trauma. Irrelevant. Sixteen year old Libby being trapped directly influenced my health of today.

So we went to fetch her.

What I'm about to describe is one of my favorite techniques for freeing a past version of yourself. Often you can do it on your own by simply having a conversation with past you and offering her your insights of today as you help her see her options. With the more complex situations, having a trusted sounding board to help identify where something from your past feels off can be incredibly helpful. I could not have arrived at the realizations that I have without those in my life are are willing to listen. There are the situations that are so complex that you need a trusted resource who understands the intricacies of energy. In my case, that's my dad. Who plays this role will differ for each and every one of us. It's as personal as choosing who to marry.

I moved almost automatically from a barely functional full on slurred speech state into a place where younger Libby could speak through me when we embarked on our effort to help her. My dad sat at my side holding her hand and mine — they're one and the same.

It took her ages to speak.

Curled up into as small of an existence as possible, she feared that saying anything would attract the alien attention she had worked diligently to avoid. Patient as my dad is, he waited until she was ready to come out of hiding. Embarrassed that she resorted to tunneling herself away, he explained to her that sometimes the bravest thing to do is to stay out of sight if it means remaining alive.

Slowly she realized that with the help of our galactic friends, the aliens had all retreated or been zapped. Tenuously she began engaging in conversation. My dad explained to her what had happened and that she was free to leave. The confines of the therapy room no longer held her prisoner.

Having had similar conversations with the Libby that was miserable at the school that prompted the depression in the first place, my dad shared that neither of them had to return to it. Instead, he and she would bound around town visiting museums and exploring any and everything that interested them as part of a homeschool curriculum. She embraced this and set out to Krohn Conservatory to recuperate amongst the flowers.

34 year old me also loved it there.

While she may not have understood the ins and outs of alien attacks and the friendship of galactic beings, she and I have always trusted my dad. If he told her it was safe, she knew to believe him.

Upon her release, I immediately fell asleep (the 42 year old version of me). When I awoke, the paralysis was gone for the first time in literal weeks. While I'm not hugely mobile (these bouts really take me out) everything is rapidly coming back online. Bonus, I have more mental clarity than I've had in the past five years since the initial poisoning when my nervous system took a hit.

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Healing Through Color

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I am always in awe of these immense shifts.

What's truly incredible is that Blue's mobility continues to increase in step with mine. The energetic ties between humans and animals never ceases to amaze. me.

To some this might sound like the stuff of science fiction. You're probably shaking your head thinking, "Okay, Libby…" Others know exactly how impactful severing these energetic ties can be. I'm grateful that this works for me, and that's all that matters.

What I will say is that the deeper I dig, the more I realize that alien meddling has always been inextricably linked with the pharmaceutical industry. This experience with Zoloft didn't happen by accident or chance. That's what those pills were designed to do. In years since that initial impact, I've heard similar stories of that specific drug causing suicidal ideations and, all too often, suicide attempts and successful suicides with those who took it. Look no further than Purdue Pharma and OxyContin to know that the drug companies don't care.

Antidepressants in particular are meant to imprison the mind. They make us shadows of our full selves even years after ceasing the meds. ADHD medications eradicate the creative spark and dull innovative thinking — again, by design. This is yet another form of energetic syphoning.

I know that many feel that these prescriptions are their only option — I've been there myself. They aren't.

You may be extinguishing the immediate fire, but you've lit the kindling for a whole host of others down the road. That might appear to be the best choice you can make in the moment. It's nice to assume that the future version of you will be more equipped to handle the flames. But wouldn't it be nice to not saddle her with that burden in the first place?

Making the changes in our lives that remove the need for perceived pharmaceutical solutions can be daunting. It's almost always easier to mute the signals. But by doing so you're robbing yourself of a host of tremendous possibilities that could change your life's path for the better. Please don't stifle your incredible contributions to the world.

Want to hang out in more conservatories with me?

P.S. Inquiring minds want to know how plant conservatories and music conservatories came to share the same name. Are they both conserving things?