I am sitting in the dark, breathing in and out, slowly, with a man I do not know seated directly across from me, hoping he will hypnotize me into forgetting about my broken heart. How I wish with all of my heart, all the broken pieces, that this will work. I have tried conventional and unconventional means - psychotherapy, acupuncture, keeping busy, working more, talking with friends, anti-depressants, time - hoping all these would heal me, but nothing. And now here I am, having found someone reputable - you - in a directory of hypnotherapists. Your ad looked comforting, friendly, and you did not disappoint when you opened your door this evening and invited me into your home, which doubles as your treatment office. The patient before me was just finishing up writing his check - he seemed relaxed and calm, and this reassured me, especially when you informed me that he was being treated for a nicotine addiction. He did not seem the least bit nervous or fidgety. This seemed like an excellent sign to me. I sat in the outer room for a moment, and looked over my shoulder at him as he walked away. He stopped at a trashcan outside your building, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and I thought, "Uh-oh", but then he took the whole pack, dumped it in the trashcan, and got in his car. Excellent. How nice for him, how encouraging for me.
You smile and I already feel at ease. You were kind to agree to take me at such a late hour, but I work until late each night, and I could not get away earlier. Clearly, you bent over backwards to accommodate me, especially since your schedule had been packed with clients during the day. You do look a little tired, and I feel embarrassed, but you smile again and continue to make me feel comfortable and welcome.
After filling out some insurance forms, I follow you to the treatment room, a tiny but cozy little anteroom with latte-colored walls. There is one light fixture close to the wall with a charming, Venetian lace design on the shade, and little beads dripping from the trim all the way around. Its bulb must be 25 watts, or even less, because the room is filled with shadows, and dim, although inviting. Feminine curtains tied with sweet little bows dress the window. Ahhh. Extremely soothing. I feel a little drowsy and we haven't even begun. Perhaps it really is perfect to attempt hypnosis at night, when one may be more susceptible than ever. You gesture to a large, overstuffed chair on the right and seat yourself in another one facing me.
You sit down and remind me that I had already told you over the phone that I was here to get over a sad ending to a love affair, that ended almost a year ago, and I was having trouble letting go of my sadness. Once again, I begin to tear up, but I tell myself, "Not now." I look up and you are gazing at me so sympathetically that I begin to cry, silently, tears now rolling down my cheeks.
"Let's begin,"
you say, not brusquely, not in too businesslike a way, but softly, to signal me that you are determined to not waste my time, and I respect that. We are both at the end of our evenings but determined to work together on this.
You hold up a shiny object I cannot identify. Is it a watch that old-time hypnotists used to use? I expected that, not knowing exactly how this might work. But the room's lighting is so soft, comforting, that I cannot make it out. Still, you ask me to focus on it for a moment, while you count. You ask me to count with you in my mind, as you count out loud for the two of us. For the two of us, for the two of us. I wonder why you keep repeating this, but I feel tingly. I feel wrapped in your care, completely trusting.
"Count with me in your mind,"
you say, and I attempt to follow your lead as you count for what seems like forever. I work very hard to focus on the shiny object as you softly entreat me to, but I have had such a long day, and I am so tired, so overcome by the heaviness of the day. My eyes close.
