The wonder of hypnosis, or stop waving that damn crystal in my face hippy!

It has been over 6 years since my experience being professionally hypnotized in order to resolve my paralyzing fear of flying. Flying reached a phobic level for me, the attempts to avoid or delay it became mechanism that could consume whole months at a time. Airports were also sources of anxiety, angst, and overwhelming, shaking, cold sweats; complete with racing heart and hyperventilating to the point of almost passing out. Magically enough three short, hour-long visits to a wunderkind hypnotist and this all ceased.

No more white-knuckle, drug laden trips across the continental United States to see East Coast cousins. No more heart leaping take offs, where I mutter my secret mantra that will hold the plane, with me in it, aloft because I am one of the Lord’s Chosen People or some such reasoning in my fear addled brain. Hey, when you are that scared, you come up with all sorts of ritualistic behavior that gets you through and I was queen of the OCD when it came to airplanes, airports, takeoffs, landings, and the like. I had to have everything a certain way. My clothes, shoes, hair, jewelry, food, books I brought, music I played, how I sat, where I sat on the plane, in the row of the plane, and whether my eyes were open or closed. It was meticulous. Right down to examining the emergency card, that was uber important, A number one thing that had to happen when I sat down after buckling up, but it had to be done very calmly and almost as an after thought, lest I be thought of as strange.

Jerry, the hypnotist (not his real name), looked like a 60 year old cadaver freshly dug up from the graveyard and animated for my benefit. Basically, he was frightening. Wearing all black with gigantic luminous brown/black eyes and sweeping wings of black hair that resembled David Copperfield over blow dried with no hairspray. He spoke in a whisper that seemed alternately menacing and comforting depending on what he was saying.

My problem was this:

I desperately wanted to see my Grandmother in New Jersey, but had not been able to bring myself to board an airplane in 3 years. My phobia had completely taken over the rational parts of my brain and declared anarchy! There had been a horrendous trip with monstrous turbulence, rain, and lightening that landed the plane in Atlanta, Georgia 3 years previous. I called my parents from the airport and refused to board my connecting flight (never put an aviophobic into a situation where they must disembark one aircraft and then get on another, they just won’t do it). Told my father I would rent a car and drive home, but it would have me missing the first week of classes for college. I cried for 2 hours in the airport lobby and then by some miracle I managed to get on a new connecting flight. All in all, that is not a day of my life I would ever choose to repeat.

So that is how I found myself in Jerry’s converted garage telling him all about how I was certain to go down in a fiery plane crash and sink to the bottom of the ocean like the people on Airport ’77. Jerry looked at me quizzically, almost Mr. Spock-like, and asked, “How long have you been able to tell the future?” I thought, “What the hell is this guy talking about, I’m not precognitive, what a nut!” So Jerry says to me, because he can tell what I am thinking from the, you-crazy-ass look on my face, “You must be able to see into the future since you are so certain that you’re going to killed, injured, maimed, or otherwise hurt on an airplane.” Suddenly we both erupted into laughter at how ridiculous that sounded. How ironic that such simple logic could get to the heart of my out of control feelings. We continued to explore this avenue of discussion and talk about the safety ratings of various methods of travel in general which was both enlightening and frightening (particularly automobile and motorcycle accidents).

My hour-long session consisted of 50 minutes of talking and 10 minutes of hypnosis. The hypnosis was refreshing and I remember all of it. There was nothing corny about it like I had seen in a demonstration by a hypnotist at my High School years ago where they made people sing the national anthem and dance like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rodgers except the reverse genders. Plus I had to go back 2 more times to make sure that I felt solid about it and since then I haven't needed to "recharge" or anything. Hallelujah!

I am such an advocate of hypnotherapy that I suggested it to my boss last year and on 4/1/05 she celebrated her 1 year anniversary of quitting smoking. She didn’t go see Jerry, since he can be a bit abrasive, but she saw a nice lady who has helped other friends of mine deal with a variety of issues with varying degrees of success depending on their level of commitment. So, I am not advocating this for everyone or for every issue. Just know it worked for me.