SUSAN CALMAN
Our columnist is keeping calm and carrying on, and hypnosis is helping
When I tell you that I’ve been seeing a hypnotherapist, you might have quite a visceral reaction. Your mind might immediately jump to a man in a shiny suit on a 1980s variety show, making an unsuspecting stranger cluck like a chicken, or a horror film in which people commit unspeakable crimes without any real knowledge of why they did it. Let me reassure you that I have never pretended to be a chicken (without my knowledge) or committed a horrific crime (although
I did once have a perm and streaks at the same time).
This is not the first time in my life that someone has counted to 10 and put me under. A few years ago I tried hypnosis to get over my fear of flying, and it’s fair to say that the first time you try it, it’s a bit strange. For starters, I had always assumed I would be difficult to hypnotise, that my mind would be an impregnable fortress. Truth be told, I was under in the blink of an eye. Seriously. And it worked. I went from being physically sick even thinking about an airport, to being able to get on a plane.
It’s a weird feeling to be hypnotised, but it’s not frightening in any way because you’re always aware of what’s happening. It’s like when you wake up from a deep sleep and you know you’re awake, but everything is a bit out of focus. Like the time I woke up at 3am and spent five minutes stroking the cat at the end of the bed before I realised I was actually stroking my bra that I had discarded on the duvet cover.
Hypnosis was revelatory for me and made me understand the main source of my anxiety. You’ll know the theory of fight or flight of course – it’s when your body and mind make snap decisions on your behalf to protect you. It turns out that what’s been happening over the years is that my lovely brain has slightly lost perspective and the flight reflex has become dominant, leading to some rather disproportionate responses. For example, when I was on Strictly Come Dancing, a glitter cannon went off and I dived under a chair for protection. It’s hard to be cool when cowering.
It’s been said to me on many an occasion that I catastrophise a lot. And I know I’m not alone, especially after what we’ve all been through in the past year. The process of hypnotherapy, for me, is a gentle attempt to persuade my subconscious to let go and enjoy the here and now. So, after the success I had with flying, I decided to try it again. For an hour a week, I sit and let someone into my head to help me find the important stuff in my life, even though I’m not quite sure what’s going on in my mind. I liken it to when you have a large handbag, and you know you’ve put your keys in it, but you can’t find them, so you have to fumble around for ages and keep pulling out lip balms and discarded hankies and biscuits, before you triumphantly locate what you’re looking for. That’s me – a brain full of biscuits.
What’s lovely is that my hypnotherapist has helped me visualise a safe space where I can go when I feel threatened; a huge room with bookshelves stuffed full of books, and all the things I find calming: cats snoring by a huge open fire, a soft jumper and, oddly enough, Liza Tarbuck. No one makes me feel safe like Liza Tarbuck. I go there when the world gets a bit much for me, and it’s wonderful.
I love my subconscious. It warns me of danger and keeps me safe. But it’s like having a really overprotective friend who won’t let you do anything for fear of harm. I’m trying to relax and let go, and I’m sure I will. I have my imaginary friend Liza Tarbuck on my side. I’m invincible.
I was under hypnosis in the blink of an eye