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THE ELUSIVE GIFT OF TRAGEDY
by
Regina Rose Murphy

Finally, September 24 arrived, the day of my appointment at the Nevada Clinic. I especially hate doctor appointments but knew this one was necessary. I arrived at 9 a.m. and a nurse gave me a series of tests. The Heart Rate Variability test and then a Voll machine test confirmed that things were not good. Dr. Royal himself, the founder, entered the room and explained that his son-in-law, with whom my appointment originally was, had to leave and so I was placed in his hands. He re-did the Voll test, and joked, “I’m retesting because I don’t trust women.” Actually, I think he re-tested me because my test results were so bad that he had personally taken over my case. (After the session was over, Dr. Royal disclosed to me that the life force reading on the Heart Rate Variability test was a “16” and anything below a “20” is considered a near-death number).

Then he asked me to trust him and do whatever he instructed. Under normal circumstances, those words from a doctor would be a big red flag but he was the kind of man I found easy to trust. He began asking weird questions and did not seem impressed by my brilliant theories about the oil and medicines from the AIDS patients affecting my hormones and causing me to bleed. He asked about my childhood, my first marriage and if I’d ever almost bled to death. I found that question unusual and told him several times during the session, “Absolutely not.” (Of course in the car on the way home David reminded me that I had almost died when Jamie was born because they couldn’t stop the bleeding following placenta separation. How our memories work or don’t work. They are so incredibly unreliable.)

Next came the really weird stuff. He would ask me to think of how I felt about something. He had me rate the level of my intensity feeling about it from one to ten and then he started tapping on certain acupressure points on my face, under my arm, under my collarbone and on my hands. He would keep checking the intensity of the emotion and keep tapping until the intense feeling was down to a one or was gone. He had me think about both of my parents to see if there were any emotional scars still affecting my life. He asked me to think about the sorrow of my dad’s death.

When he asked about my first marriage, I began crying uncontrollably and could barely breathe. He re-tested me on the Voll machine, and I could see he had a “back to the drawing board” look on his face. Then he said, “I want you rub on this spot under your left shoulder and say three times, “I deeply and completely accept myself even if I don’t want to get better.”

My reaction to this strange request was clear. I thought, you’re nuts and I’m not going to say anything so stupid, especially when it isn’t true. If I’m spending $700 for the appointment, it’s because I DO want to get better. When I refused to say it, he was sweet and patient with me but insisted I needed to trust him on this if I was to get better. So even though I didn’t have my heart in it, I said what he asked me to say. He re-tested me on the Voll machine again and said my meridians were back in alignment. He told me I would be fine, gave me two homeopathic remedies and sent me on my merry way. I was quite upset because I didn’t believe he’d actually helped me.

It wasn’t until the next day when my bleeding stopped completely that I even considered I might be getting better and that Dr. Royal had actually helped the bleeding stop. Two weeks later when I returned and he re-tested me on the Heart Rate Variability machine, I was at “85.”

After two weeks of not bleeding and feeling noticeably better, I decided to look up on the Internet what Dr. Royal actually did, but I couldn’t even understand the explanation in his pamphlet or the information on the Thought Field Therapy website. By “coincidence,” a class in Thought Field Therapy was being taught by Susanne Connelly the next day in Las Vegas and there was room in the class.
I took my aura camera (a special camera that can photograph electromagnetic fields) to the class so I could see if this therapy really worked. After I took the class, I was blown away by what the aura camera showed and by the science that was behind this therapy. I began tapping on everyone who would sit still, but I must admit that tapping on people is not an easy “sell.” People cannot grasp that something so simple can have such amazing effects, and even fewer people ever realize the full impact of a tapping session. They don’t see their improvement as a result of rubbing on the thoracic duct or sore spot, as everyone in the field refers to it, and saying such things as: “I deeply and completely accept myself even if _________ (name the problem, say, I’m angry at my mother).” When we do this, we are collapsing a subconscious belief. Even fewer realize the full implications of a program embedded in the subconscious.

(It took over a year after my session with Dr. Royal to remember that I had named myself after St. Rose of Lima as a confirmation name. She wore a crown of thorns under her habit so she would slowly bleed to death. I used to study the lives of the saints and be so upset because you couldn’t be a saint anymore or die a martyr. If I could have become one, as a child I would have applied. I was obsessed with being a nun and had my sights set on being a saint. The bleeding from which I almost died twice was a big clue to me about my subconscious martyr syndrome.) I might have wanted to die in the twin towers to fulfill my childhood wish of being a martyr.

I became obsessed with this tapping technique because, with my aura camera, I could see the energy shift in people with the use of this modality. All negative emotion is a disruption in the energy field. The aura photos, which are able to reflect these energy shifts, gave some validation to the clients who came to me for sessions. I began studying every modality linked to the entire field of Energy Psychology. I took classes directly with many of the founders of each of these modalities, and couldn’t get enough education or practice in the field. I just knew I could help John with this so my heart was in it all the way. Of course, getting John to let me help him was going to be the hard part.

The next memorable time I worked with John stemmed from an outright threat on my part. It was before a trip to Michigan to see my niece, Amy, play an Indian in Peter Pan at the community theater in the Kalamazoo Civic Theater. My reservations were made but not John’s because he would never commit to fly. This was due to his severe phobia of flying. When he finally decided to go, I only had enough points for a coach seat for him so we would not be sitting together on the flights. Him sitting alone did not bother me because his behavior was always at its worst at airports and while he was flying.

The day before the planned trip, at his sister’s birthday party, I noticed his anxiety level getting high. When we returned home from the party, I told him, “If you don’t let me tap on you, you can’t come with me.” I’d never forced a treatment on him before but I knew he was getting crazy because of his anxiety over flying. He seemed relieved that I forced him into it because, this way, he didn’t have to ask mom for help.

After we tapped on the flying anxiety, I could see his whole demeanor change. If we tapped out anxiety, we needed to fill the space with a new positive program. You can think of it like deleting an old version of a program in the computer and installing a new version. He told me he wanted to fly first class with me. Being an optimist, I said, “Okay, let’s do it!” He envisioned sitting next to me in first class on all six flights, three in each direction between Las Vegas and Kalamazoo. We tapped it in and I was curious to see how he would do. He was in an exceptionally good mood preparing for the trip, and I kept teasing him about what he’d done with the “Real John.”

At the airport, Delta Airlines informed us there was NO WAY they could upgrade a ticket purchased with points. John didn’t get upset, saying, “See, it didn’t work.” He remained in a good mood and just took it in stride. I, of course, checked again with the agent at the gate for an upgrade ticket and received the exact same response. On the plane, John went to his seat in coach and I went to mine in first class feeling really guilty. Just as they brought me my wine (to ease the guilt), the agent walked up to me and said, “There’s no reason your son should not sit next to you since we have an empty seat.”

When I went back to coach and told John, he had a huge smile on his face that set the tone for the most magical weekend. I know this is hard to believe but the same thing happened on all six flights! Now the Irish will never let the truth stand in the way of a good story, but this is the truth.

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