Beyond Quantum Healing
This is the first in what will hopefully be a more regular thread of articles woven together, on the topic... Read more »
Published Monday June 3, 2019 by firstname.lastname@example.orgBeyond Quantum Healing
The following is the first of a three-part story by Tiffany Evans, a current Beyond Quantum Healing student, soon to be a full-fledged BQH Practitioner. In this story she gives us a sense of who she is as a person, her unique challenges, and her desire and drive to make a difference in the world by helping others even while she moves towards achieving her own healing.
My Saving Grace Part 1 of 3
I suppose the first thing you should know about me is that I allow my intuition, (you know that voice in your head that most of society ignores) make 90% of my decisions and pretty much run my life. The second thing you should know about me (and the reason I am currently writing this blog) is because, yes, I want to become a Beyond Quantum Healing Practitioner BEFORE I’ve ever had a session myself. Some of you may be asking yourself why. Well to answer that in any way that you will truly understand, I will have to tell you about my journey and what propelled me into my awakening. I am going to break it down into three parts. Today we will delve a little into my past and the path I was taking that lead to my eye opening awakening, the second part will be the awakening itself and the experiences I had that lead me to the last and final instalment to this three part blog which will be why I want to become a BQH Practitioner, even though I have never experienced a session myself.
I will not deep dive into my childhood today but rather giving the footnotes version the story, I personally believe that we cannot blame all our decisions on our childhood. I do understand that is when our personality is formed and it can have some bearing on our decisions later in life, however, I know we can also break the cycles we see around us as I have done. I did not have the easiest childhood, especially not at home where I was raised by a single mother, and I very rarely ever saw my father. I did, however, have an escape with my grandparents, and my grandmother especially was quite religious and took me to many Baptist Church meetings and even had me Baptized. Grandpa was the fun one I went out golfing with, I got to drive the golf cart, pick wildflowers, and took long wooded hikes. He was for all intents and purposes my father.
At 8 years old when my left arm began to swell and my “sick” days began, we found out the visible blue veins in my arm I was born with was an AVM (Arteriovenous Malformation) which is considered rare. I had one day just decided to grow and there wasn’t much they could do for it other than cut out as much as they could. That malformation caused about 4 years of intensive surgeries, excruciating pain, many hospitalizations, and one confused kid, but it did stop growing naturally at puberty. Which just so happened to be the time I became a know it all teenager, who no longer had to go to the hospital every month and I thought I would never have to go through another procedure again.
My teen years were rough and full of both bad decisions and good decisions, which I’m sure most of you can sympathize with. At 13 I was going through a lot, I had pulled away from the best source in my life at the time, my grandparents, and eventually tried to commit suicide. Thankfully my friends didn’t keep it to themselves and I was hospitalized before I could take my own life. That wasn’t it for me though, I began to smoke both cigarettes and pot, I no longer had someone in my life to tell me how bad things were getting or to discipline me the way I should’ve been. That coupled with my stupid teenage mind lead to me to being 15 and pregnant. I was advised, quite strongly, to have an abortion and declined, I knew that the baby would be mine no matter what, and she would become my saving grace.
Eventually it came out that the father of my little girl was a 27-year-old man that had just gotten out of prison. Everything hit the fan, and I no longer had anyone but me and my daughter. So, after my little Triniti was born I left home and my family behind, I got my GED and started working to support my small family. However, at 16 you cannot rent a house so for a while we were forced to live for a short time in a teenage mother’s sanctuary. Triniti was only a few months old when her father decided he wanted to know his daughter as well, and with nowhere else to turn, Triniti and I moved in with him. Unfortunately, this led to physical and emotional abuse in a way I never saw coming, at 16 I was not wise enough to see the state of mind he was forcing me into. I already felt so alone when I went to him, but that was nothing compared to the isolation he would make me feel in the years to come. I honestly don’t think anyone other than another abuse victim would understand the lowness that abuse makes you feel. I stayed with him for four years and we had another child, a son we named Braydon, who also saved me. During all of those years I knew nothing but isolation and abuse in every sense of the word, until finally I got the courage to pack up the kids and take only what I could fit in the car and leave while he was at work, and never look back. I didn’t want Braydon to grow up thinking woman were lower than him, and I didn’t want Triniti to think it is okay for a man to hit and abuse woman.
The next few years were all about the healing process I needed after leaving a relationship that was as extremely toxic. I began to heal however, very slowly. I was still young and never really been on my own. I made mistakes often, but every time I got back up and kept on going with my head held high. Until at age of 22, I got the news that would change things for me forever.
I found out I had cancer, and not only that, but I would have to have a full Hysterectomy. I was just learning to love again and with a man who was unlike any I had ever been with; a truly good guy I could’ve seen myself having children with eventually. I had a career in the banking industry at a big name bank in a small mid-west town. So, I did what I had to do, I pulled on my big girl pants and fought with everything I had to beat cancer, and I did, but that wasn’t the end. Within the next two months myl eft arm where the AVM was, started to swell and hurt again, only this time it was worse…
In the next instalment we will be discussing how cancer and my AVM propelled me on my journey.
With all my Love and Light,
Article by Tiffany Evans