Hi, my name is Adi Assodri and no, I have not experienced any big traumata in my life. Does that imply that I cannot help people the way other practitioners, who had suffered trauma, do? And if their experiences made them want to help others, what is my excuse? 
These are definitely questions that cross my mind every now and then and it may very well be the case that what I am going to write now will shed some light on these questions for me as well:

I was born and raised in Germany to parents, who survived the Holocaust. Although my Dad had been to a concentration camp where he suffered malnutrition, due to which he broke a few ribs at least twice a year, he always pointed out how lucky he was, having always met people, who were willing to help and share food, even though he was wearing the yellow star of David.

Each time when my children or I ask him about his past he would answer: ”I was lucky, I always met good people”.

My Mom, on the other hand, whose father was taken and never came back when she was 14 years of age, has not overcome this loss to this day. She came to know about his destiny and the circumstances as to when and where he died only ten years ago …
My Mom is 86 years old and to this day she relieves her painful past over and over again …

Growing up with a background such as that was not always easy … my Mom’s desperate need for love, touch and the grief she is still holding on to, on the one hand, and my Dad’s positive and easy going attitude, but still strict upbringing on the other hand …

Here is a small example of his way of “education”:

When I was about 16 years of age and I went out with friends he told me: “I will not tell you when to be back at night, you tell me beforehand, but then you have to be back, at exactly that time.”

I remember one night, I was out with friends and we had a great time mostly talking about philosophical stuff, which I was totally hooked on back then and I did not realize that it was already way past the time I told my father I would be back home …

As I arrived at home with my heart beating like crazy, I quietly put my key in the door, turned it around slowly, hoping it would not wake him, as it was way after the agreed time … and bang, the door chain inside was hooked in and it only opened a crack!
Even though I am smirking now, thinking back at that event, I remember freezing at that very moment …
I knew I had to ring the doorbell in order to get in ….. my thoughts were racing in my head: ”Maybe I go somewhere else to sleep….. maybe I should wait on the stairs until morning…….”. Crazy thoughts were running through my mind just thinking about the terror I would get, when my Dad would open the door …

Finally I rang the bell, but I think the sound of my heart beating was a lot louder … nothing happened … I rang again, while fear was running up and down my spine …

I could hear the wooden floor inside crunching, I heard the bedroom door, which was on the opposite side of the entrance door, opening and then the release of the door chain … my Dad opened the door with “that” facial expression I knew so well … in that moment I wished for the ground to open and swallow me up …
Without saying a word he went back to his room.

We never talked about that incident, but that was a lesson taught for life and I was never late again since!

My Dad had his unique ways to make his point and as a child and youngster it was frightening, even though he never raised his hands to us. “The look” was enough to make us freeze on the spot.

My Mom on the other hand was always my friend. She always knew where I was, with whom I was out and she always “covered up” for me towards my Dad.

Even if I came home with the weirdest of guys telling her: ”This is my boyfriend and he came to meet you”, she always welcomed them warm heartedly and never – even after they were gone – told me anything negative about them. After breaking up, she would say: ”I am happy it’s over, that was a weird fellow”.

Therefore, my background, my parents’ background and my experiences are part of who I am today……

The passion to help others was present already when I was in my teen years … I remember asking myself: ”Why, why are there people, who had similar experiences, but they are dealing with them in so very different ways, why some of them see the glass half full and others see it half empty … Why do children, who are raised in the same family under similar circumstances, are so different in their point of views … questions over questions …

These questions led me to dive more into studying all kinds of teachings and finally brought me to my passion: helping people help themselves!

Today, more than ever before, I know that everyone has the innate ability to heal himself from trauma, tension, anxiety and anything else he wishes to let go of and move on. I provide simple, yet amazing tools to people, who are willing to take responsibility for their own well-being.

I have done a lot of self-work, releasing painful childhood memories, like those I mentioned before and I am still working on my issues … It is a lifelong process, as life is dynamic and as long as we live shit happens. 🙂

Having said that, I can see how it becomes easier each time, as I have cleared up quite a lot from my past and as a result, my perception of life has shifted.

Thank you for taking the time reading through one chapter of “My story of life”

Contact: info@adiassodri.com

“There is no need to be perfect to inspire others … Let others be inspired by how you deal with your imperfections”
~ Robert Tew ~