(14) I am so disappointed in the human race...

angry at myself for believing in us, and enraged by those who have betrayed our innocence

I am unvaxxed

Grief for the human race and my dreams

I have always been a conspiracy theorist

I have always been aware of dastardly conspiracies, since my youth in the 60s and 70s. I knew there was a class of people out to take everything for themselves and leave nothing for us, but back then I had faith in the human race to use our brilliant imaginations, to craft a way beyond the heinous limitations imposed by the “elites”. Back then I saw it as a class war. Then gradually my eyes opened with Stan Deyo’s Cosmic Conspiracy, and books on The Club of Rome, and Jean Raspail’s Camp of the Saints and many more - these names just wrote themselves as I was typing, but they are not the limit of my reading over the years. I was an avid reader of everything “alternative”. I realised that what has been done to us was far more focused than just a few greedy rich people wanting to get richer. But all the time, despite all the evidence to the contrary, I stubbornly refused to see the limitations of the human race, and retained my faith that the human race could turn this all around.

What shattered me was my loss of faith in the human race

Covid shattered all my remaining illusions. With covid I saw just how profoundly stupid and well as foolishly naive the human race is. The bulk of the human race cannot be trusted to turn this all around. It will be down to a minority, who have the will and the determination to do something, but even they are not very intelligent - not intelligent enough to resist the inevitable capture of everything we do. Ego gets in the way, every time! Whatever movement we start in our attempts to get some level of control back over our own lives, they infiltrate, take over, and keep it going as an impotent shadow of itself, taking the space of legitimate bottom up movements - like the various Green Parties around the world who are blocking any genuine environmental movements, and UFO societies who are blocking genuine inter-dimensional or extra-terrestrial investigation. Everything we start gets conscripted if it looks like a threat.

My surface reaction is profound grief

During the last few years, my health has been crashing, at the same time as my emotions going wildly out of whack. For almost the entire four years I have been crying, virtually non-stop. I type this and I cry, I talk to people about it and I cry, I think of my old and long dead dog and I cry, I think of all the people being killed by the after effects of the jab and I cry, I think about my own prognosis and I cry. Everything from vaguely sad to downright devastating, turns on the waterworks and sometimes I just can’t turn them off. Four years of the deepest most intense grief.

And don’t imagine I am depressed. I am not. I am still active and still fighting for a better world. Sharing my deepest emotions is part of that fight. If I share mine, then perhaps others will see and acknowledge theirs, and together we can move forward and work out how to do this!

How we react to extreme stress, fight, flight and freeze

What is freeze mode?

We have all heard of fight and flight as two legitimate actions when we believe we are about to die. We can fight or we can run away. Our body’ sympathetic nervous system produces adrenaline and cortisol, to enable extreme physical exertion. But if we assess that neither is going to save us, we can freeze and “play dead”. We still have all that adrenaline and cortisol flowing around our bodies, ready to take action when the coast is clear, but we now also have invoked our parasympathetic system which freezes us and does not allow us to run or fight. It’s like having one foot on the accelerator and one foot on the brake, meaning we build up severe pressure internally until it resolves - but under extreme conditions, it just does not resolve - except through a heart attack or stroke. Once the medical system has captured us, we stay there, perpetually, unable to unfreeze. The only way out is death.

Well that is how I have spent my life when in the company of people who try to bully me, parents, siblings, partners, employers and most importantly, those entrusted with real life and death control, the doctors. I freeze until I can escape quietly, and in the last 2 years of medical crisis after medical crisis, I have been in an enforced freeze mode when I am trapped in the all too frequent company of doctors demanding I do something that I know will cause me harm. When I do not have the knowledge or information on hand to argue with them or explain why I will not do what they demand I do, I go silent, and when they ignore me, I go silent. I have no words to speak, and have to creep away to think. What a coward, I say to myself, but not really. I know defying doctors is a very brave thing to do and utterly pointless.

Procrastination is freeze mode

I have been procrastinating now for nearly five months since my initial diagnosis with melanoma and 3 months since my diagnosis with breast cancer, all the time refusing to do what they want me to do, and instead, taking powerful anti-parasitic and anti-cancer protocols to hold my body together while I think. That’s what it looks like - procrastination, but it’s not. It is freeze mode until I can see my own way clear, until I know enough to make an informed decision, until my intuition clicks in and says, OK, now you can go. The freeze mode that has kept me apparently procrastinating does suddenly let go, the decision is made and I take the appropriate action with no further thought and no hesitation. Muddle transmutes into clarity. The more others bully me and try to interfere with my internal decision making processes, based on my own learning, and perhaps, even more importantly, my intuition, the more I seem to dig in. I have to withdraw and hide from the world while I sort the whole mess out. And I do. I sort it out.

And then there is the rage

Deeper and more intense and more hidden than the “grief” and the “procrastination”, is the “rage”

Who else has touched their own deep cold rage?

Recently, along with having to deal with profoundly stupid and ill-educated doctors whose processes can only kill us, my blood pressure climbed, peaking at 200+/100+ - very dangerous numbers. I started joking about having 4 ways to die, melanoma, carcinoma, stoke or diabetic coma. Spoilt for choice, that’s me.

But during this crisis, as often happens during a severe crisis, I had an emotional breakthrough of sorts, so its not all bad. I saw not just anger inside me - yup, there’s lots of that, but below it, well hidden, is a deep deep, silent rage. I had not seen this before in me.

The rage has been built up over a lifetime but gone over the top with my forced association with mainstream medicine and doctors. Doctors insist that they know best and refuse to hear what we have to tell them about our own bodies and our own needs, which I foolishly think should be taken into account. They try to force us to over-rule our own knowing and our own intuition to obey their orders. And they try to panic us with demands that we rush into destructive and dangerous cancer treatments and take destructive and dangerous drugs for all kinds of issues, with far too little information and thinking time. Each doctor who has tried to panic me, I have sacked. I will not make a decision based on panic. Even they seem to panic in their attempt to panic me.

And most people do just that. They “give in” and passively do as they are told, even if there is an intuition deep inside them that is screaming out that this is wrong. We fear that if we act on our own intelligence and our own knowing, they will abandon us, which, of course, they will. It’s a given.

But in the end, maybe intuition wins

Protected beyond the deep cold rage, the person I should be and could be waits

For a split second, here and there, during this high blood pressure and rage crisis, I felt another Christine. I felt her. She took over for just a second or two, but long enough to profoundly change me. She is upright, confident, self-contained, intelligent, highly intuitive, very knowledgeable, and an all round admirable, brilliant woman. Just for a split second that is.

That is the Christine I should be and could be, but to be her I have to slough off each and every cultural demand and limitation placed on me. I have to gamble medically with my life, as I wait for my intuition to click in and provide the clarity to make the right decision at the right time. I have to have confidence that my intuition is so good, that I will get both the decision and the timing right. That Christine would be so well in tune with her higher self, that she would never allow anyone else on this planet to over-rule her intuition. That Christine would take all the time she needs to make her own decisions, based on that precious contact with the “still small voice within” - where each potentially life or death decision is certain and clear.

I had observed, during the last few months, that when I had thought about some horrible medical decision I had to make, I would get panicky - not good for the blood sugar or the blood pressure. Then days, weeks or even months later, I would suddenly find that the decision was made, with no apparent process, and I could move forward calmly and with certainly. No fear.

I will never again in my life, willingly allow anyone to over-rule my insight, my intuition and my inspiration. I will always take the time to make my own decisions.

The person I want to be when I die

I may die in the process of re-discovering my self, given the apparent state of my health, but, by god it will be worth it, to die as THAT Christine, not the rebellious but intimidated, and the ”almost but not quite” crushed version of me. Rediscovering the real Christine will make a lifetime of abuse and suffering, within a dying culture, worthwhile - to finally make it through to the other side and BE her.

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I want to go to a healing clinic in Mexico

While I was scanning the web for information on apricot kernels - I am looking for a protocol that includes them, I came across a website for alternative treatment clinics in Mexico. What would I do if I had enough money to fund it? I would go to one of those clinics and then see about living out my days somewhere bright, and colorful and joyful.

Two nights later I had a dream where I was walking down narrow cobbled streets lined with street vendors selling bright embroidered fabric items, actually more like Bolivia than Mexico. There were two other women with me and we were chattering happily. I asked them if I could afford to live there, and they told me I could choose between any of three rooms, now, today - far from luxury but “soft” feminine rooms decorated in lots of soft colourful fabrics. I woke up seriously excited and happy.

So how can I do that? How can I make enough income to fund me to a clinic in Mexico and from there, to who knows where?

Can you help?

I intend to keep writing of my journey through this rather strange time in my life, and for this planet. Hopefully my story becomes exciting or moving as I cross normal barriers to find solutions. As soon as I know, you will know what does and does not work to exorcise this bio-weapon from our bodies.

If you think my writings are worthwhile, you can help me get more subscriptions and donations by sharing this article and on other social media platforms, and by re-stacking this and subsequent articles in Substack Notes.

And if you see value in me sharing my journey, and would personally like to help me get to Mexico where I can find the natural treatments that are illegal in the West, you can make a one-off donation through PayPal below. (With thanks to those who have already donated.)