Hypnotize Me

I had my first significant experience with hypnosis this week.  I had always had this vision of people being hypnotized and not having any control over what they do, or memory of what happened.  That was not my experience at all.

I sat in the therapist’s office telling him about my hatred of chores.  I came to this realization in the midst of my latest therapy hangover.  Even the word “chores” makes me cringe.  I am not a terrific housekeeper — drove my ex-husband absolutely mad.  My place isn’t bad… I don’t leave food around or anything disgusting like that.  It’s a lot like any home where young children live.  There are toys all around, a back up of laundry and dishes piled in the sink, but I must admit I wish it was cleaner.

For me, dishes are the absolutely worst chore.  I let them pile in the sink and then even on to the counter.  Just looking around the house will zap the energy right out of me.  It totally hits my off switch.  It’s disruptive even, as I have spent time at home thinking I should be cleaning but intentionally trying to ignore it.  I started thinking about why I feel this way and remembering some of my childhood days when I was repeatedly getting the shit kicked out of me over chores.

My Stepdad, we’ll call him #4 had a thing for chores.  You could never do them right, as hard as you tried.  He always found something wrong, which would lead to a beating.  Not just any beating though, #4 was creative.  In making my own home, I am often overwhelmed by housework, not just because I don’t want to do it but also because I don’t want chores to be a source of contention and misery at home (like it was in my life) so instead of insisting on my kiddos helping me out–  I just take it all on myself.

So, I sat in the therapist’s chair and told him all this… and how I had journaled through some of the experiences I had and ever since then had managed to keep my housework all caught up.  I even started getting the kids to be more conscientious and helpful.  I told him mostly I wanted real and lasting change, so he suggested we work through the same issues under hypnosis.

I didn’t know what to expect exactly, but I figured I’d cry.  I’m a crier.. what can I say?

He asked me to fix my eyes on a ceramic vase with a gorgeous hummingbird pained to in, while he used something metallic on a chain to rock back and forth in my peripheral vision.  He talked me in to a deep state of relaxation where my body felt heavy and e wanted to slump back in the chair.  Eventually I was instructed to close my eyes.  He said that as we talked, I would see pictures in my mind and he wanted me to describe them.

I was in the kitchen by myself washing the dishes, and struggling with the broom.  I was all alone, and sad… scared.  #4 was laying his lazy ass on the couch.  I don’t know where my sisters were, but my Mom was at work.  This was always the worst time… between when I got home from school and when my Mom got home from work.  At some point #4 was standing in front of me with his huge hand wrapped around my throat.  He was at least 6′ tall.  I’m tiny now, only 4’10” and about 100 lbs.  You can imagine how small I was at just 12 yrs old.

With his stupid meat hook he lifted me off my feet and up to his height, so he was staring me in the face.  Tears poured from my eyes and down my cheeks, and I was surprised to realize he didn’t look angry… just smug… almost smiling.  I began shouting “But I didn’t even do anything!  I didn’t even do anything!  I didn’t even do anything!”  I said it over and over again as I was having some sort of mental break.  I guess up until that point I thought my actions made a difference.  I figured I was punished when I did wrong, and left alone when I didn’t.  In that moment, I knew it didn’t matter what I did.  That made no difference what so ever.

As I screamed that phrase over and over again, now #4 started to get angry.  He carried my little body down the hall, stood at the door to my sister’s room and through me across the room like a rag doll.  I hit the wall and fell on to the bed.  It wasn’t even my room.  What the hell was he doing?

Although, I was sort of experiencing the event all over again, and I was crying…  It wasn’t as emotionally painful as you might think.  It was more like, I knew I was scared, and horrible sad over it but  I didn’t feel so broken.

After he brought me out of the hypnotic state.  Simple count backwards from three and open your eyes.  We discussed #4 as being a complete fucking sociopath…  We discussed my mother’s reaction to me threatening to tell someone about the abuse.  I was pretty damned angry at that point.  I would say “What the hell is wrong with him?  Is he just some kind of moron?  Wasn’t he worried someone would find out, or he’d seriously injure one of us?  That asshole used to make my sisters bend over and grab their ankles in front of the refrigerator then kick them in the ass sending their head crashing in to the fridge.  He could have broken their necks!  What the hell is wrong with him?!

My therapist would then try to explain #4’s behavior and I’d cut him off saying “Really, I don’t give a shit what he was feeling or what he was thinking.  He was WRONG!’  I was seriously pissed off, and I continued to be pissed off for a while after the session… even know I’m grinding my teeth like crazy while I type this.  The anger did subside though, and my feeling about chores has remained much improved…  my house continues to be CLEAN!

Published in: on September 11, 2012 at 9:00 am  Comments (3)  
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3 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. writing your journey is a greatness task…somehow rebuilding future. Great post.

    • Ya.. this was a tough one for me. Maybe you can tell by all the typos.. jeez. Lol. There were some things I didnt really want to reveal but I’m doing my best to keep the blog true to my journey.

      • writing is always fiction somehow…even autobiography…your emotional honesty is an inspiration…and keep the blog true to your journey.
        thank you for share.

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