The first step is to get the mother to admit that she’s abusive. Then, make it clear that her behavior is not okay.

My heart was heavy. I told myself this is my duty. I had to relentlessly tell the mother, whom I had met only once, that we had been notified by her neighbors, who heard the child crying all the time.

From that point, the mother stopped responding to my communications. I began to dislike dealing with the family after that. “It’s my fault this happened,” I thought, “so I have to do something about it.”

She refused to talk to me, so I had to get confirmation of her and her child’s safety through other relevant agencies. This also made me feel it was my fault.

After that case, I began paying too close attention to my other families to make sure they wouldn’t react in the same way. I could no longer speak clearly to concerned parents, and the words of those around me sounded even harsher than before.

I couldn’t stop myself from thinking it was my fault. Self-hatred consumed me. I began getting headaches that made it difficult for me to get up in the morning. I saw an internist, thinking it was probably a cold. Then I saw a gynecologist, guessing it might be anemia. I still didn’t feel better. Finally, I went to a neurosurgeon.

“There’s a suspicion of dissection of the right vertebral artery.” The doctor said that the artery wall has three layers, the intima, tunica media, and adventitia. The innermost of these, the intima, may have been nicked, allowing blood to enter the artery wall and rupture the artery. However, this wasn’t able to be picked up on the image.

I looked at my reflection in the hospital mirror. Am I going to die? Have I used up all of my life? Was I born and have I lived for a reason? What is it? To make my family happy? To be there for my children? To feel loved and happy by having my husband do things for me?

In my hospital bed, I looked at a device that checked my heartbeat. It’s strange, I thought, my heart is beating even though I’m like this. Oh, I’m alive! That’s the only thing I knew for sure.
My reflection in the mirror said nothing. Have I ever lived with the purpose for which I was born?

I was convinced that it was good to make others happy through my actions. When I saw someone being praised, I tried to imitate that person. Imitate, imitate, imitate! I wanted to be like that person. Before long, I found myself acting like somebody else.

I was also convinced that I shouldn’t bother people, no matter how hard something was or how miserable and pitiful I felt. When I didn’t agree with what others said, I felt I wasn’t good enough to understand. I was really stupid for not knowing that, I thought. I’m so embarrassed! But I felt that I shouldn’t show it. That’s why I couldn’t feel happiness.

I couldn’t get away from the idea that everything was my fault. I wanted to disappear from the world. Judgmental thinking, such as right or wrong, good or evil, was out of control. I just wanted to be loved intensely. I wanted everyone to see the real me. I’m such a fearful, whiny, crying baby, I thought. Sloppy, half-baked, the worst! But I still want to be loved!

There was another patient in my hospital room. In upbeat tone, she said, “I’m determined to go vote, no matter what.” So she went to vote and returned to the hospital just fine. Some patients receive a lot of care from hospital staff, while saying they’re sorry to give them so much trouble. I giggle from time to time.　I realize that it’s a world where it happens when I decide to do so.

I couldn’t stand being there anymore! I told my doctor that I wanted to go home and do what I needed to do. They decided to discharge me the very next day.

While I was in the hospital, I told my mother what I had been diagnosed with (at this point, the disease was not yet certain). She said, “No one in my family has that disease.” In the past, I would have taken this as my mother’s usual unloving words and been sad. But this time, I just took it as it was and simply said, “Oh, right. Okay.”

The blood vessels that hadn’t showed up before showed up clearly and cleanly on my post-discharge examination. “Oh, it really was a dissection,” the doctor said.　My husband and I laughed as we left, realizing that this is what it means to know the result after the fact. At a Miross course that I attended after my discharge, I was amazed at the mechanisms that produce disease.
Things are reversed.　There’s a backside to the front side, and they exist at the same time.
Ah, so there really is no such thing as only good or only bad!　I didn’t have to try to become someone else.　I didn’t have to hate a part of myself that I hate.

No matter what path I choose, I’ll figure it out eventually.　In the end, I get to find out that I’ve always been incredibly loved.　I could go anywhere I wanted, and nowhere in the world would I find that it was my fault. It really was an illusion.　My intense ego made me feel like everything was going wrong because of me. It was an illusion created by thoughts. Even when I was told that the world was reversed, I couldn’t see what was in front of me due to this reversal.

Once, I felt intense despair that the world is full of ego.　Now I know that there is, and there isn’t.Either way can lead to the truth.　What bliss!

“Are you there?”　I felt that I could hear Mr. Rossco’s voice in the dark hall during his video lecture.　”Here！ I’m here! I’m glad I’m me.”　I wanted to tell him that.

Don’t bother living a life of longing for praise and fearing criticism.　We’re all waiting for the time when the story of “loved from the beginning all along” will become true.

In this peace of mind, the wishes of the creator will guide us, a unique and only existence, with like-minded people.　We will continue to take steps forward.

No one but myself.　I feel my heart pounding as I leave the contradictions of my world behind.　I’ll step out of my own way in order to see my world.