Heal Yourself: Drug-Free Healing by the Power of New Science & Ancient Wisdom

Heal Yourself: Drug-Free Healing by the Power of New Science & Ancient Wisdom

by Phyllis Reardon M. Ed


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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781452586236
Publisher: Balboa Press
Publication date: 01/16/2014
Pages: 112
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.27(d)

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Heal Yourself: Drug-Free Healing By the Power of New Science & Ancient Wisdom

By Phyllis Reardon

Balboa Press

Copyright © 2014 Phyllis Reardon, M Ed.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4525-8623-6


How I Met Louise Hay

Born with Positivity

I was always a positive person. I got that from my parents. They lived through the Great Depression, and life was not always easy for them. But despite their hardships, they decided to view each day in a positive light, for which I am grateful. This skill of positivity I learned well from them.

Happiness and love filled my early development days, and I have taken that forward into my adult life. This is important for me to state up front, as the focus of this book deals with how you as an individual perceive the world—your mind-set. This book reflects my experiences, and in sharing them, I hope that you and those you love will benefit in a positive, healthy way.

The system I use comes from different teachings and techniques. I have been a student of the universe. I have listened. I have learned. I have experienced. I have developed a process that works for me. As you read, please make note of what speaks to you. Take what worked for me, and make it your own.

I always see the glass as half full and days as sunny with few clouds. That does not mean you have to be super positive to make my technique work, but a little tilt toward the positive side of things certainly helps.

It is important for me to note that positivity is a skill. It needs to be worked on and helps build the mind-set in which you view the world. Positive Mental Attitude (PMA) and mind-set are essential to understanding yourself and your health.

Self-healing came to me as much from my intuition—my body's voice—as it did from real-life experiences. What do people generally say? Experience is the best teacher. Unfortunately, many times the lessons we learn come from difficult situations. It makes me wonder if the lessons learned from pleasant happenings are as dramatic in our cognitive shifts; I am sure there is a body of research somewhere on this very topic.

I would now like to share with you how my life experiences shaped my thinking, perception, and mind-set in relation to conventional medicine.

My Son's Near-Death Experience

In 1974, I was a young mother of two delightful little boys, a four-year-old and a one-year-old. My four-year-old son, Sean, was born with what doctors told me was an outward-draining cyst located on the side of his head near the temple area. In time, they explained, this would grow over and disappear.

That summer, while on a fishing trip with his dad, my son was bitten by a mosquito in the area of the cyst. A trip to the hospital resulted in an outpatient visit to remove the cyst. This simple procedure turned into a life-altering event for the whole family.

Two craniotomies and nine years later, my son was finally released from one of the leading neurological surgeons in North America. One doctor's error had to be corrected by another but not without many stressful years for our family.

This was my doorway to questioning what at that point I accepted as an infallible institution. I believe now that the culture and society in which I grew up, one of a strong Catholic faith, discouraged any questioning. My perception of education was "Don't question but accept all authority on blind faith."

My life experiences changed that. It took the near-death of my first child to shake me into the reality and the humanness of our health care providers.

At the age of twenty-seven, I began to question. I began looking at my health and the health of my children with more responsibility. I think as a mother I instinctively did this, but it became more ingrained in me to look at alternatives to our accepted medical system. I guess my personal experiences caused me to lose faith to some degree. Loss of faith brings with it a bit of bitterness, but I had to learn to release that.

This is the backdrop for what was to become a new way of my perceiving and caring for my physical body. It was also my first step onto the path that led me to Louise Hay.

During this experience with my son—the many trips to the hospital, his long stays, waiting outside the operating room during lengthy surgeries, the sounds and smells of the intensive care unit, watching the surgeon approach after each surgery and trying to read his expression—I did my very best to stay positive. I would talk to myself in a positive way. Not once did I allow a negative, imagined end result enter my mind, not even when the neurologist in his surgery greens approached with worry beads rotating on his fingers. I focused on a future of hope and health, a future filled with fun activities for my then five-year-old son.

When Sean left the hospital for the final time, I had to learn to mother with caution but not paralysis. I could not let this physical condition control him or me. I listened to my inner voice, and he was on ice skates one month out of the hospital, a dream he had during his long hospital stay.

The technique I used to stay positive at that time was self-talk, but I did not use that phrase then. I do not think I had any label on what I did. I think I just knew that when I spoke to myself in a positive way, I would feel better. When I visualized a positive outcome, I truly believed it would happen. My son now lives a healthy, activity-filled life and works in the holistic personal health arena. And to this day, he plays ice hockey twice a week.

I have been in tune with my body since my mid-twenties. I am intuitive, so maybe that allows me to be more in tune with my body as I listen to it. Whether it is intuition, bodily instinct, or another term, one thing I am sure of is I have healed myself. I have done this on at least three separate occasions. I feel so strongly about this healing process that I want to share it with as many people as possible. Even though my health issues were common to women, this healing technique can be used by both genders of all ages.

Birth and Life Perspective

My life began in the midst of a winter blizzard so severe that my mother's doctor did not make it to the hospital. On that extremely snowy day of January 3, 1947, the only doctor available at our hospital was an orthopedic specialist. He delivered me.

Having given birth to four wonderful, healthy children, I sometimes wonder how the birthing process influences each individual's unique life path. On that day in January 1947, a discussion undoubtedly happened at my mother's bedside around this most unlikely physician performing my delivery. Possibly, this discussion in some way embedded on my subconscious and informed me to consider alternatives, as this indeed was an alternative delivery.

Did my experience then, both in the womb and during delivery, inform and form my alternative health decisions in later life? Although my life started in 1947, the healing stories I am about to tell you began in the 1980s.

All of my children were born in the seventies: 1970, 1973, 1976, and 1978. I was blessed with four healthy, wonderful children—three handsome sons and one beautiful daughter. Following the 1978 birth of my youngest son, I decided it was time to get fit. Four pregnancies had constituted thirty-six months—a combined three years—of my life, so it was time to get my body back in shape. And that I did. The YMCA fit the bill. I not only worked out there, I also became one of their fitness instructors. I was feeling really healthy!

By the autumn of 1988 and into the winter of 1989, I began experiencing what for me were abnormal monthly menstrual periods. And at forty-two, I struggled on a monthly basis with physical pain during my periods. My life at this time was extremely busy. Not only was I a mother of four, but I was also working full-time as an assistant director of an alternate high school for disenfranchised inner-city youth. My mom had passed in 1987, my last surviving parent, and I missed her. Many emotions filled me.

My menstrual problems increased. Along with the intensity and lengthened duration of my period came severe physical pain and discomfort. This was a new paradigm in my personal health. My body had never experienced this before.

The pain moved me so far outside my comfort zone and my usual health regime that I resorted to taking over-the-counter painkillers. Topping out between eight and ten painkillers a day, this by a person who got drowsy after taking a single aspirin, made me realize there was something seriously wrong, something that needed the attention of my family doctor.

Based on my symptoms, my family doctor strongly recommended I see a gynecologist. With a degree of frustration—I am not sure why, as my past gynecologist had been a brilliant male physician—I asked if I could see a female gynecologist.

Maybe it was my forty-two-year-old feminist exerting her power and finding her place in my world. Maybe I was at a point in my life where I just wanted someone who could fully understand what it was like to have a uterus, a well-worked womb, a special female body part. Maybe, just maybe I did not want some male commenting, "You have four kids. You don't need your womb anymore."

I wanted a doctor who understood that this special body part meant more to a woman than as a baby machine. The uterus plays a large role in blood flow for sexual stimulation, which for me was part of how I defined myself as a woman. It was psychological. I had no intention of giving up this body part without a fight or at least some strong discussion.

For whatever reason, I made my request, and my family doctor was fully supportive. He referred me to a woman who he said was the best around. However, she practiced outside our city in a town that was over two-hours driving time.

Mid-February was appointment day, and in eastern Canada that means snow-covered, icy roads at best. Having prepared the kids' meals for that day, arranged child care, and taken an annual leave day, I headed out over the wintry highway with my husband. I did not want anyone to know, so I told the kids I had a meeting out of town, which I think goes under the category of "white lie," as I was meeting with someone.

On reflection, I do not recall much about the drive out, but I certainly will never forget the drive back. But I am getting ahead of myself, which I tend to do some times.

It was a cold, damp, dull Friday morning as we entered the town of Clarenville, Newfoundland. The red-brick building was easy to find. The half-empty hospital parking lot with its small piles of snow gave a sense of a not-too-busy day. As usual, I maintained my positive attitude.

The hospital smell and shiny floors that greeted us as we entered made my heart flutter just a little. The realization set in that in all my visits to the hospital to see my son fifteen years prior, this hospital visit was all about me. But I remained positive. Phyllis, the eternal optimist!

The waiting room was uninviting, but then who really wants to be invited into a hospital? The green faux-leather chairs with their chrome legs offered no solace, but I was determined to stay the positive course.

I am not sure how long we waited, but it was indeed a relief, if you can feel relief when waiting to see a gynecologist, when my name was called.

I was delighted that this very professional female doctor with a wonderful British accent oozed confidence while having the ability to put me at ease.

She read my chart, and after a few regular questions, my feet were secured in metal stirrups, and she began her examination of my forty-two-year-old, very-productive body part. Immediately following the procedure, she had me wait in her office and asked my husband to join us.

Minutes passed. Then she entered, holding my folder. She looked somewhat more serious but still comforting. As she began speaking, I felt as though I were transported to another time, sitting and watching a movie in a foreign language. The words that came from her mouth were directed at me, but I was sure they were intended for someone else. I now know I went into slight shock when I heard her say, "You have a large tumor in your uterus, and you need a hysterectomy as soon as possible. I can do the surgery at this hospital, but I am suggesting you be better served by being in your own city close to family."

I do not remember how I left her office. Did I say thank you? Did I even shake her hand? I do not know.

Positivity Left Me

Hospital? Surgery? Not Phyllis! She is too healthy!

As my husband drove our burgundy 1987 Chrysler out of the hospital parking lot and onto the byway, I began to cry. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and my stomach felt queasy. My heart hurt for me and for my family. To my current knowledge, a tumor meant one thing: cancer. I felt physically sick.

The distance from the hospital parking lot along the byway to the highway is about half a mile. I felt the car slow as it came to the stop sign. I looked up. There in big red letters on the weather-beaten, octagon-shaped sign was the word STOP. It was as if I were hearing a voice in my head shout the word loud and clear. STOP. Stop your crying. Stop the self-pity. Stop the negative images that are floating in your head. Get a life, Phyllis!

I immediately grabbed some tissues, wiped away the last tears, and rubbed the sniffles from my nose. That was it. I did not have time to cry. I did not have time for self-pity. I had four children ranging in age from eleven to nineteen who needed me. They needed me in the way they were used to having their mom—healthy, positive, and full of energy. I needed to heal my body.

By the time we pulled away from the stop sign and onto the highway for our trip home, my tears and self-pity were abated. Positivity was back, albeit not 100 percent, maybe not even 40 percent. But it was there, gaining strength with every icy mile we covered.

I needed a plan—not sure what kind of a plan—but I knew I needed one. My thoughts went back to fifteen years earlier and how I dealt with the health scare of my oldest son. I remembered that I talked to myself in a kind way and did not allow myself to imagine a negative result for him. I now decided to do the same for myself. Negative endings were not an option. I had to get well.

My thoughts turned to my uterus. You already understand how I feel about this precious body part. It defined me, provided pleasure, and protected my children in gestational days. It was an integral part of who Phyllis was. The question "How do I keep it?" flooded my mind.

Meeting Louise Hay

The next day was a Saturday, and many chores for a working mom of four waited for completion. But on this mom's mind was her healing. Th e self-help industry had not yet taken off at that time, at least not to the extent that it has in more recent years. I failed to mention that I am an educator and a bit of an academic, so I have a tendency to turn to books for answers. We were pre-Google in 1989, so I needed to find my answers in paper and ink.

Late that Saturday afternoon, between music lessons and hockey games, I headed to my neighborhood bookstore. I was not exactly sure what to look for, but something or someone made me feel I would find just the right book for my needs. It may have been that voice that screamed at me at the stop sign.

I went directly to the self-help section, which at that time was limited. In fact, this was my first time in the self-help section.

I moved slowly from book cover to book cover. Within a short time, I saw this little blue book with the words Heal Your Body printed on the cover. This has to be the book. These are the exact words that came into my mind at that stop sign, I thought to myself. Now here it was, written right on the cover of a published book. I am not sure what words I used at that moment to express myself, but by today's vernacular, I would have said, "How good is that!" or "Now that's what I'm talking about!"

I examined the book, checked the publication date, publication city, author, and did a quick perusal of the book. It felt right in my hands.


Excerpted from Heal Yourself: Drug-Free Healing By the Power of New Science & Ancient Wisdom by Phyllis Reardon. Copyright © 2014 Phyllis Reardon, M Ed.. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Table of Contents


Preface, ix,
Acknowledgments, xi,
Part I: My Stories of Self-Healing, 1,
Story One: How I Met Louise Hay, 3,
Story One: Conclusion, 16,
Story Two: Who Knew They Were Listening?, 17,
Story Two: Conclusion, 27,
Story Three: Twenty Years after Meeting Louise Hay, 29,
Part I: Conclusion, 33,
Part II: Self-Healing: How It Can Work for You, 35,
Healing, 37,
Belief, 41,
Mind-set, 47,
Intention, 49,
The Subconscious Mind, 51,
Part II: Conclusion, 56,
Part III: Body Chats: Scripts for Self-Healing, 57,
Preventative Healing Body Chats and Activities, 62,
Healing Body Chat Scripts and Activities, 76,
Part III: Conclusion, 98,
About the Author, 99,

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