Carol Omans

I've been putting off this part of the program because it is difficult for me to keep going through these difficult memories. But it's been 2 weeks and I have time and I'm committed, so here goes:

Before the age of six, I was neglected, shamed and abused emotionally by my mother.. She was critical and said harsh things to me about my personality that have been integrated in my mind. Among many other events, such as washing my mouth out with soap when I tried to let out my emotions, she threatened to give me away, send me to reform school for bad little girls. I was terrified. Looking back, I think she might have been depressed, as she was usually sleeping in the mornings when I went to school and also when I came home at lunch. I was not allowed to wake her up. My father traveled during the week and I was raised by a maid.

My sister, who is five years older than I am, was physically and emotionally abusive. She shamed me in front of her friends and frequently abused me physically. When I went to my mother to intervene, she would tell me to fight my own battles, which was impossible because my sister was twice my size.

I developed what I later learned to be separation anxiety disorder. I would beg my parents to stay home, frequently telling them I had a stomachache, hanging onto my mother's legs, but they always went out in spite of the fact that I told them I was sick and I was afraid that my sister would kill me. I had all sorts of fears. What if the baby sitter leaves? What if the apartment gets on fire? What if a robber comes?

I slept under six blankets because I thought if anyone came to stab me, the knife wouldn't make it through the covers. I was a fearful unhappy child with no friends.

We moved when I was eight and I was much happier in my new home. My mother was home a lot because she didn't know anyone yet, the neighborhood was safer, I made friends.

Fast forward to adulthood.
First came the panic attacks. I started to throw up at odd times, and couldn't stop. I would have to be hospitalized and put to sleep to stop the vomiting. After thorough exams, my family physician suggested I see an analyst. Also at that time, I was recently married and had two miscarriages. My obstetrician said there was nothing wrong with me. After two years in analysis, and two healthy children, I knew my body was being controlled by my mind. My analyst and I discovered that I had a magical belief that if I had a baby, my mother would die. My mother had always told the story that her mother died when she had a baby and I internalized that.

I loved being a mother and I remember those years when my children were growing up as the happiest years of my life. I went back to school and became a social worker. My repressed feelings of unexpressed anger, sadness, feeling something was wrong with me from childhood, stayed repressed. I worked, I managed, I had fun.

Then, when I was in my 50's, suddenly, my world fell apart. My mother died. It was a difficult death with lots of surgeries and pain. I couldn't handle it. After her death, I took my father in to live with me. I adored him and he was wonderful but I guess it put added stress on my life and marriage. My husband and I moved to a bigger home to accommodate my dad, and it was more expensive, adding more stress. After six years of living with us, my father passed away. He was 97 and in great shape, but he had a pacemaker and one day he tripped over my dog and the pacemaker stopped working, his chest filled up with blood and he died the next morning. I blamed myself for that and felt a lot of guilt. My son got pregnant with triplets. We were ecstatic, but they were born early at three pounds, one died and one has cerebral palsy.

Soon after, my husband, who was bipolar and very difficult to live with and have a relationship with, wanted a divorce. He moved out, we got divorced and I had to move to a townhouse that I didn't want to live in and I didn't know if I could afford.

The move was difficult. My body started to break down. First my back with tremendous pain. The all sorts of other maladies. There was left leg pain, right leg pain, knee pain, nose bleeds. By this time, I had developed diveritculosis and one Thanksgiving had to be hospitalized for a diverticular bleed. I was alone and had to call a ambulance for myself, something I had always been afraid of. My wonderful dog who was my best friend, was fine one day and died the next from bloat. I was grieving and mourning everything.

One day while I was working with a patient, I had a TIA. I reported it to my internist and went through every brain test in the book.
The latest episode was a few months ago. I was in bed late at night, became nauseous and began throwing up. Unable to stop again. Then I became so anxious my heart started to beat through my body, my pulse went sky-high and again I was hospitalized with a diagnosis of Atrial Fib.
Okay. I'd had enough.

I'd been to every doctor imaginable, from orthopedists, to heart specialists, to analysts. You name it, I was there. Acupuncture, physical therapists, every new age practitioner imaginable. I tried Buddhism, meditation, osteopaths, massage, chiropractors. I can't even remember all the people I've cried to for help. I became depressed. My life became smaller and smaller. My leg pain was so bad that I couldn't walk. I couldn't walk through a department store or shop at the local grocery store. I was in bed for most of last fall and winter. I cried every single day from depression and the pain. There were times I had to use a walker to get to the bathroom. There were also times I had to use a cane.
That's when my son sent me Dr. Sarno's book. That was a little over two weeks ago.

I have immersed myself in the program. I'm constantly on youtube listening to all the success story. I've read HEALING BACK PAIN twice. Also read the DIVIDED MIND, and am currently reading UNLEARN YOUR PAIN by Howard Schubiner.

My son found me a doctor in Chicago, Dr. John Stracts and I went to see him. I am signed up for several mind body classes on the internet. I'm working the 35 day program.
And I am better! I still have pain, but less, and I can walk again.
If anyone has TMS it is me! And I thank my son, Dr. Sarno, and all of the people involved in this discovery. I have hope again. And I am not afraid. I am grateful.