Post Traumatic Stress---A Real Life Miracle---Kenneth Copeland Part One
Without Prejudice
She had been attacked, by other women. Her fingers were broken, scratches so deep that it looked like some sort of animal had done it. Bruised battered, a full bottle of alcohol smashed over her head.
She had no warning, coming out of the toilets in a pub, washing her hands. Ten women burst in and attacked her. Ten against one. Women her own age, mothers like her.
She rang us and we sent help. It took a while to find her. We sent help to the local pub not the one in the next street. Help found her and took her to the hospital and then to the Police.
She had fought back, a fighter herself, she had fought back but didn't stand a chance. She felt partly to blame, blamed herself, she had been answering back on Facebook. Making threats herself.
After the first shock, her Husband didn't want to hear about it anymore. She nursed her injuries. She had a bad addiction to medication and the " friends" had been helping her get them and holding it against her.
She took it up inside. And after three months of refusing help she stopped eating. Always a big girl she dropped weight like wallpaper sloughing off a wall.. We as a family began to panic. Visited her and were alarmed at her gaunt appearance.
We were intimidated by the husband, a relative, an Alpha male, but one of the family said he surely would not allow her to die.
She began saying strange things. Convinced she had to save money for her Husband she started turning off the electricity. She was convinced there was a strange spirit in the house and anointed the house with candles and " cures".
She was taken by the Husband to the psychiatric ward of the local hospital. They couldn't work out how to help her. She was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress and tried to harm herself, cutting her flesh and still refusing to eat.
Her Husband stayed with her often, telling her he loved her, showering her with affection. He listened to the Doctors and did what they said. But he also listened to well meaning friends and family.
I went to see her often. It seemed hopeless.
Then things became a whole lot worse.
She was shipped out to a mental facility. She was cutting again when I went to see her. I took her home to my place. She was insane. Three weeks later she applied for a house for herself and one daughter that refused to leave her side. Fearing she would suicide.
Her husband left her taking the rest of the kids and went to his Mothers.
She was given a house, all new stuff and she was lonely and bereft. She was not allowed to be around her other children. But one stayed with her. The Husband stripped their family home of all furniture and fittings. Burning some of the things in the backyard. He was working still, incredible hours, such a hard worker.
I visited her at the new house, she had just taken a handful of pills and tried to gas herself. I went home and cried for two days. The Husband continued to visit her, told her he loved her. She was like
an automaton. She showed no emotion and said food tasted like " dirt".
She knew she was dying.
I couldn't help her, so in the end I " gave up ".
I couldn't deal with another death of a child.
She had been attacked, by other women. Her fingers were broken, scratches so deep that it looked like some sort of animal had done it. Bruised battered, a full bottle of alcohol smashed over her head.
She had no warning, coming out of the toilets in a pub, washing her hands. Ten women burst in and attacked her. Ten against one. Women her own age, mothers like her.
She rang us and we sent help. It took a while to find her. We sent help to the local pub not the one in the next street. Help found her and took her to the hospital and then to the Police.
She had fought back, a fighter herself, she had fought back but didn't stand a chance. She felt partly to blame, blamed herself, she had been answering back on Facebook. Making threats herself.
After the first shock, her Husband didn't want to hear about it anymore. She nursed her injuries. She had a bad addiction to medication and the " friends" had been helping her get them and holding it against her.
She took it up inside. And after three months of refusing help she stopped eating. Always a big girl she dropped weight like wallpaper sloughing off a wall.. We as a family began to panic. Visited her and were alarmed at her gaunt appearance.
We were intimidated by the husband, a relative, an Alpha male, but one of the family said he surely would not allow her to die.
She began saying strange things. Convinced she had to save money for her Husband she started turning off the electricity. She was convinced there was a strange spirit in the house and anointed the house with candles and " cures".
She was taken by the Husband to the psychiatric ward of the local hospital. They couldn't work out how to help her. She was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress and tried to harm herself, cutting her flesh and still refusing to eat.
Her Husband stayed with her often, telling her he loved her, showering her with affection. He listened to the Doctors and did what they said. But he also listened to well meaning friends and family.
I went to see her often. It seemed hopeless.
Then things became a whole lot worse.
She was shipped out to a mental facility. She was cutting again when I went to see her. I took her home to my place. She was insane. Three weeks later she applied for a house for herself and one daughter that refused to leave her side. Fearing she would suicide.
Her husband left her taking the rest of the kids and went to his Mothers.
She was given a house, all new stuff and she was lonely and bereft. She was not allowed to be around her other children. But one stayed with her. The Husband stripped their family home of all furniture and fittings. Burning some of the things in the backyard. He was working still, incredible hours, such a hard worker.
I visited her at the new house, she had just taken a handful of pills and tried to gas herself. I went home and cried for two days. The Husband continued to visit her, told her he loved her. She was like
an automaton. She showed no emotion and said food tasted like " dirt".
She knew she was dying.
I couldn't help her, so in the end I " gave up ".
I couldn't deal with another death of a child.
