Female Sexual Problems. Excerpt from Dr. Morris Netherton's Past Lives Therapy Book
Updated: -- Aug 6, 2014 --
Dr. Morris Netherton's method from his book Past Lives Therapyavailable at PLTC Bookstore and practiced at Past Life Therapy Center®.
FAILURE TO ACHIEVE ORGASM IS A PROBLEM ALMOST EVERY woman suffers at some time in her life. For many, it is a passing disorder, associated with an unhappy relationship or a particularly depressing period of life. But for others it is a constant fact of life, a debilitating, demeaning block to happiness and fulfillment. For Sarah Foster it was also associated with physical pain and increasing depression.
Sarah was twenty-three years old, with long dark hair and a thin, vulnerable face. She wore no makeup and dressed in a uniform of blue jeans, sandals, and an Indian blouse. She presented herself as free-spirited, independent, and unconcerned with what the world thought about her. Our first interview revealed her tenuous hold on this posture:
I’m terrified that someone will get too close to me. Want to fall in love, I feel like.....there’s all this love inside, but.....I freeze when a man walks up to me. I swallow and words get caught in my throat.....All I keep thinking is “Don’t touch me.....don’t put a hand on me.....: I know that’s crazy. I mean, when I get to know a man and we make love, it’s so confusing.....I have a pain. I feel like I’m approaching some sort of climax, and then there’s this stabbing pain, and then I cry. Now I’m afraid to do it anymore. I mean, you just can’t do that to men over and over.....they have rights, too.
Sarah was experiencing one symptom unrelated to all this sexual trauma – she awakened regularly at about four in the morning with acute abdominal cramps. She could see no connection between the cramps and her failure to achieve orgasm, but I felt there had to be some tie-in. I made a note of it but decided not to pursue it, hoping that Sarah would come to it herself curing the session.
I asked Sarah what it was she most feared in getting close to a man. She thought for a moment, and gestured with her hands when she could find no words. Finally she blurted out, “I’m afraid I’ll never be able to break out. I’m afraid it will put me in a rigid situation, and I’ll just be stuck there. That doesn’t make sense, does it?"
“Everything you say makes sense,” I said. I’m just not sure what it means. If you found yourself stuck someplace – physically stuck, unable to break out.....if your body were rigid, what could you tell me about it? The first think coming to mind – where are you?”
I can’t stand and I can’t sit down. I’m.....isn’t anyone going to get me out of this? Isn’t anyone going to help me?
It’s a cage, like an animal cage at the zoo; but it just fits down over me. I can’t move – I’m squatting. It’s too low to stand up, too narrow to fit. It isn’t fair. He never wanted me. He just wanted to use me.....to own me.
Sarah had found herself in an early civilization. As she backtracked to pick up the circumstances surrounding her imprisonment, we found she was being punished by a husband for having sex with another man. Human life was not highly valued, and he did not particularly care if the punishment killed her. She had been in this cage for days.
As this life began to evolve, I was faced with several off occurrences. The first was that untrained ear like an African tribal tongue, but Sarah’s speech was so erratic that we could not concentrate on the sounds of the language enough to define it. As fascinating as this situation was, I was frankly more interested in solving Sarah’s sexual problem than in pursuing an oddity. I simply told Sarah to translate the meanings for me as she heard the people around her talking. From time to time she would slip back into the tongue, but a gentle suggestion resulted in a translation.
I don’t know how long I’ve been there, I don’t even know where I am really. Three men are taking me out of my cage now.....taking me to a wide spot in the woods. This is all outdoors.....hot .....almost steamy. A man waits for me.....my husband. He’s telling me I disgraced him.....I’m just a whore, a slut.....but I don’t see what he’s talking about.....He never showed any interest in me, never paid any attention to me. Now.....My God, he’s got a whip, and.....Oh, God!
Sarah thrashed twice on the couch, and again we encountered something that I find difficult to explain. As she continued to tell me her experiences, red welts began to appear across her cheek, chin, and shoulders. These marks lay in parallel lines across her, as they would if she had been whipped with a cat-o’-nine-tails. I was mystified by this physical manifestation of past-life injury. Again I felt that our focus should be Sarah’s troubling emotions, rather than the pursuit of inexplicable phenomena. We proceeded, simply taking note of the physical symptoms, which receded as the session continued.
I beg him for mercy. But he doesn’t even hear me. He tells the men, “Put her back in the cage.” I’m crying to him..... “No, no, I’ll die in there!” But he looks so bland. He doesn’t even respond.
They’ve put me back. I’m squatting again, and it’s killing me. The pain is excruciating.
I asked for a description of the pain. The response was as I expected.
It’s the pain in the stomach.....lower, actually. The pain in the abdomen. I feel it every night. It’s my four a.m. pain. That’s it. It’s from squatting. Now I’m being led to a room. I told him I would do anything.....anything to get out of the cage, and finally he’s relented. They’re bathing me and it feels so good. Hot water swirling up around my middle. I just want to stay forever.....but I can’t. They’re giving me a drink..... “It’s for the pain,” someone says. For the pain.....what pain?
In another room. I’m lying back on a pallet, a low straw bed, and there are tools. I can see them so clearly.....knives, scissors.....they’re so beautiful: gold shafts, carved with blue.....some kind of blue inlays. They’re like jewelry, almost. I wonder.....why do I remember them so clearly? Nothing else is that clear.....but I’m getting drowsy.....My husband is there.....He’s saying to another man.....a doctor..... “I hope this helps me.” And the doctor says, “It never fails. We just have to cut quickly to avoid the pain. She’ll never care about finishing again.”
Sarah described a sharp stabbing pain in her vaginal area, a pain that caused her to pass out. When she returned to consciousness she heard the doctor advising her husband, “Don’t use her for a few days. We don’t want infection to set in.”
Suddenly Sarah became very excited. She began to speak more rapidly, describing her current life. She was suffering from a vaginal yeast infection that she had neglected to mention to me in her initial interview. She had suffered with this disorder for five years; it had become a part of her daily life. It had not responded to medication, which normally clears up such infections in a matter of weeks. We reworked and repeated the doctor’s statements until Sarah felt she could move on.
I’m recovered now, and I don’t care about sex at all. He uses me when he wants to, but I don’t feel a thing. I cry all the time, I feel like I’m half human. I can’t react to anything. Nothing matters. Then I remember.....those knives. The tools in the operating room. They’ve so pretty, so.....desirable. It’s night I’m sneaking into the room. I don’t think I’ve seen it since the.....operation. I don’t know how long it’s been. I don’t know anything about what happened in between. But there they are. A golden knife. Blue flowers. I’m taking it in my hand.....it goes in right at the center of the abdomen. My God.....it hurts so much. I wish I hadn’t.....it hurts.
I’m on the floor now, and I’m dying. I’m thinking.....”All I wanted was to be loved.....it shouldn’t have led to all this. All I wanted was to be loved.”
In reworking these experiences, Sarah found the similarities between past and present. She had recently broke off a relationship with one man and started seeing another. Her first boyfriend was furious about the new relationship, and berated Sarah over the phone constantly. His behavior frightened her and made her feel guilty. Although the old boyfriend was powerless to physically punish Sarah, mental tormenting played neatly into this past life and suicide.
From this early civilization Sarah moved to somewhere in the United States, during the early western expansion. In a primitive western town, populated by hardworking, hard-drinking men, she was a bar waitress and sometime prostitute.
I feel a pulling, like the people pulling me out of the baths before, but it’s a man.....at the bar. He’s pulling me toward this long flight of stairs, and I’m going. But I don’t understand. I’m confused about what’s going on here. I seem to be a prostitute but I don’t feel like I know what I’m doing. I must be very young. I guess that’s it. I’m just sort of dazed, going up the stairs. This man is very gentle. He seems kind of.....nice. He’s taking me to a bedroom. He’s very gentle. We’re undressed, and I’m slowly very.....excited, aroused. We’re making love, I can feel a climax approaching. It’s a very close thing. I can’t see how I can be a prostitute. I really like this man.....I feel very tender, and excited at the same time.....It’s.....it’s.....Oh lord, he’s finished. He’s finished. He’s pulling away from me.....I’m so confused, I was, like, in a dream with him. Now he’s off the bed already. Getting into his clothes. I’m still lying there, feeling like.....”What happened?” He looks down at me and he says, “Jesus, you’re some whore! You’re not good enough for any man.” He throws a coin on the bed, and leaves. I’m all alone. Crying, angry. Still confused. Why doesn’t anyone love me?”
Sarah described dressing and going back out into the hall above the bar. She was so disoriented from the experience that she had neglected to tie her shoes, and she tripped at the top of the stairs. Falling the entire flight, she struck her head against the banister post at the bottom. Her last vision was from the floor; the man she had just made love to was sitting at the bar, and turned around momentarily to see what all the commotion was about before turning away with a shrug. She was taken back upstairs and left without medical attention. By morning she was dead.
This incident crystallized the mistrust Sarah felt for all men. The moment before climax had become a focal point of trauma for her in her current lift. It was the moment when she knew she would be betrayed and left alone.
As we moved into the prenatal period of Sarah’s present life, we found a related incident in the seventh month. Her parents were engaged in sex, but her mother found the experience repulsive and painful.
She’s thinking, “Don’t touch me there. You act like an animal. Leave me alone.....I don’t get anything out of this – God knows how long it’s been since I came.” Now she’s rolling over. He’s groaning and coughing, lying on his back.....and she’s thinking. “If I can help it he’ll never touch me again.”
Despite the strength of this scene, Sarah did not seem ready to leave the prenatal period. We worked many similar scenes of animosity between her parents, but at no point did she really become detached from the situation in the womb. Finally, when we had spent several sessions reworking incidents that we had seen before, we struck a new event. Sarah’s mother was in the hospital, awaiting delivery. She had checked in early, and was looking for something to read.
My father’s coming into the room. He’s eating something, I guess.....a hamburger or something, because mother’s looking at him, and her stomach’s turning over. He’s saying, “You found something to read.” She says, “Yes, it’s very strange. It’s called Philosophy in the Bedroom, by the Marquis de Sade.” He’s never heard of it. He asks her, “What’s so strange about it?” and she reads him a few sentences.
Sarah put her hands over her eyes and slowly recited the following passage, which is indeed from Philosophy in the Bedroom:
What well made man, what man endowed with vigorous organs, does not desire, in one way or another, to molest his partner during his enjoyment of her? I know perfectly well that whole armies of idiots, who are never conscious of their sensations, will have much trouble understanding the systems that I want to establish. What do I care for these fools?
Hold her, and expose her arse, as I will plunge into it. And I will kiss her with a cat-of-nine-tails, which she must surely learn to love and find stimulating. Would you do me the great kindness, madam, of allowing me the great pleasure of biting and pinching your lovely flesh while I am fucking with thee?
Her ability to recite this passage, presumably from unconscious memory, left both of us somewhat breathless. We went over the passage several times, detaching her slowly and carefully. Interestingly, the attitudes in it echoed her own feelings of what me believed me believed about women in general, her in particular. At the end of this intense period of concentration Sarah was limp, but serene. She at last felt free of these crippling ideas.
Although Sarah had heard of the Marquis de Sade, for who sadism was named, she claimed to have no familiarity with his work, nor any knowledge of when he lived, what his philosophy consisted of, or whether it was available in print. Her recollection of this passage which her mother read aloud immediately prior to giving birth was the third inexplicable occurrence in her therapy. Other phenomena of this type will be dealt with in more detail in the last part of this book, in the chapter “Inferences, By-products, Implications.”
Sarah’s first painless sexual encounter occurred within days of the “de Sade” session. The early morning abdominal cramps and the vaginal infection had disappeared earlier in therapy. This sudden “break” with the symptoms of pain and guilt is in the typical resolution of a sexual problem.
Sexual difficulties, often inaccessible to traditional therapists, are among the most easily solved problems I encounter in Past Lives Therapy. Most require a very few sessions. Unfortunately, when a sexual impasse occurs in a relationship, it is sometimes masking a deeper problem in that relationship, and often it becomes a scapegoat for all of the difficulties two people have with each other. In cases where the sexual problems have been solved and the relationship does not improve sufficiently, we must go into the dynamics of the relationship itself.
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