I’ve been feeling overwhelmingly anxious lately, so I went to see a hypnotist

I went to see a hypnotist recently. It’s not the kind of thing I’m usually pulled to, but I made a very rare exception because something was telling me to try it. Over the last year or so, I’ve been feeling quite down, anxious and unhappy. Seemingly for no reason. I needed, and still need, peace. Quiet. Serenity.

The other day, one of my colleagues randomly came to sit with me.

“I went to see a hypnotist,” she started.

“I normally wouldn’t talk about it, but you seem like someone who would understand.”

Immediately, my heart opened.

“How was that?” I asked.

She continued, telling me about the Quantum Healing Hypnosis Technique (QHHT) and the woman she visited, who put her in a state of theta, the first stage of sleep. Apparently, it is the optimal range for visualization, mind programming and creative power. It is the mental state where you consciously create your reality.

QHHT is a technique developed by Dolores Cannon to talk to the subconscious mind to find out more about a person’s current and past lives in order to heal them.

I was immediately intrigued and more so, I felt pulled to try QHHT. I felt, and feel, like I’m in need of such deep healing for my emotional body, as well as my soul body.

I made the appointment, borrowed my parents’ car and headed out to Montreal’s West Island — a place I never go. I was almost late, getting there at 1:59 p.m. for my 2 p.m. appointment, so I didn’t have time to sit and reflect about what I was about to do. I quickly checked the address on my phone and bulldozed my way right into the apartment building, stopping only at this woman’s front door to take off my winter boots.

She warmly welcomed me into her cozy, stereotypically bohemian apartment, filled with crystals and embroidered cushions. On a side table by her couch sat two luxurious glass goblets.

“Tell me about yourself,” she starts, gesturing for me to sit.

I launch into the footnotes version of my life — born in Montreal, raised in Australia, blah blah blah, moved back and now I’m here.

She asks me about significant moments in my life, the racism I experienced as a child, my relationship with my parents. As she does, I felt a welling up in my throat.

“I feel so emotional even as I sit here and talk to you,” I say. “And I don’t know why. I’m not sad.”

“That’s your subconscious,” she responds, kindly. “That’s your higher self coming to the surface.”

We talk for an hour. I start to feel very relaxed, my eyes half closing already. Then, she instructs me to lie on her couch, places a comfortable pillow underneath my head and tucks two blankets on top of me. She sits — I lie — in silence for a moment. And then it begins.

Listening back to the recording now — almost two hours long — I hear my voice, mixed in with the hypnotist’s. We’re talking about a past life I had.

“Where are you?” she asks.

“In front of a castle,” I respond.

“Is there anyone around?” she says.

“No,” I answer.

“Where is everyone?” she questions.

I start to cry.

“I’ve been abandoned,” I whisper.

I was a child. I had lost my mother at the market for a moment. It traumatized me because my father had very literally discarded us not long before, leaving us with next to nothing.

The hypnotist runs me through several pivotal moments of that life. I have a feeling that I lived in Europe during the Victorian era. I was a seamstress. I married a man, who was exciting and spontaneous when we met, but eventually grew bored with his life as a banker. I had two children. Someone’s name was Claire — perhaps mine? Despite my husband’s lack of interest in our family, I’m at peace when I take my last breath.

“Why did you choose to show us this life?” the hypnotist asks.

“Happiness. Love. Children,” my subconscious answers.

“That’s what Rachel needs to learn again in her current life?” she presses.

“Yes,” my subconscious states.

“What is it you’d like Rachel to know about this life and having children?” she says.

“It will happen,” my subconscious responds.

“How can she be in her heart more and her head less?” she asks. “She seems unsure about whether she’s happy now.”

“Breathe. Smile,” says my subconscious.

The hypnotist asks my subconscious about fear, loneliness, anxiety, depression, trust and high expectations — all things that have been circulating in my head over the last year or so.

“What is the message of the thoracic spine?” she says, noting that I have several vertebrae out of place, in particular my T5, T6 and T9.

“Heart. Control,” my subconscious answers.

“Feeling unsupported by life?” she asks.

“Yes,” my subconscious responds.

My subconscious tells the hypnotist that I am living my last life, that I’m ready to go into the light when this existence is over.

Finally, when I wake up, I can feel the remnants of the tears that have dried on their way down my cheeks. I feel very warm.  I’m a little lightheaded. I have a bit of a headache; this, she explains, is normal. She hands me a glass of water and tells me to hydrate.

“You will be quite open over the next few days, especially,” she notes.

“You may hear or see or feel things that stick with you.”

be peace
Be Peace is a Modo Yoga pillar.

I had a headache for two days after meeting with the hypnotist.

What I learned, if I understood my subconscious correctly, is I have to be more patient, slow down, relax and reduce stress. Essentially, I have to find peace. So, I’m going to commit to trying something new: meditate — twice — every day. I’m already curious to see what physical and emotional changes come from it.

Would you consider visiting a hypnotist?

Do you meditate? What works best for you?
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