A few days ago I had my first session of hypnotherapy. No deep, dark secrets have surfaced, yet. It was an introduction to the Ericksonian approach.
My therapist learned what many family & friends have known for some time- my mind is incredibly focused on details (“anal retentive” has been used to describe me). There are those who say such an active mind is a sign of creativity and/or intelligence. It can also be a great way to keep people at bay (pre-judging means being the first one to reject, rather than being rejected) as well as ensuring emotions and memories are tied up.
His suggestion that I imagine a time-traveling device such as the ‘shimmering light beams device’ from Star Trek didn’t work well- that was a teleport device rather than one for time travel. The safe space I envisioned was Club Manatee – an after-hours club in Toronto from the ’80s. This didn’t feel right when he suggested at one point that I see my safe space devoid of anyone else. The club was a safe space precisely because of the people. Not only did I meet two of the few people I dated and a number of casual sexual partners; being able to dance all night without pressure to ‘hook up’ or drink or talk (loud music is heaven-sent to we shy introverts) with other queer folk made the outside world a little less oppressive.
The first person that I met there and then dated was ‘Chip’. We met on a Sunday evening. He hated crowds but liked the atmosphere. He had given sex up after what he described as an “active sex life in college” – although I suspect it wasn’t so much wild as it was frequent. Not a judgement; frequent sex can be a wonderful thing. But I was 21 and the idea of being in a relationship with an abstainer was not something I was ready for. The other person I dated after meeting there was Isaac. Too much to say about the seven years we were together- at least for now.
Oh, early in the process he talked about seeing the patterns on our eyelids when closed- acknowledging them before moving on. He said to notice the patterns, the colours, how they are often black and white, dark or light. And I hear Jane Siberry singing a line from ‘Symmetry‘.
Next week we have another session, and now that he understands me a bit better, perhaps I’ll go deeper. Oh, the title of this post (and, at least for now, my blog) is from my poem from the ’80s.