Hypnotherapy?

Well, after some prodding by my pal Stepford Barbie, I went to a hypnotherapy appointment today.  I was immediately concerned about my decision upon arrival to the office.  I didn't see any signage and all the windows had blinds drawn.  My immediate concern was that I had just driven up on an underground prostitution ring. I mean, I was in Lynnwood.  I started to consider whether I should go in or not.  I mean, I had shaved my legs this morning and I was wearing a skirt that could be pulled up shorter, so, I could pull it off, either way.  And, if it was a prostitution operation, at least I could come out with some cash and a satisfied libido.  Look at me being positive!  It was after I had resigned myself to possibly starring in an adult film that I saw the signage upstairs on the second floor.  Okay, it seems legit. 

I entered the office and it was very nice inside.  The hypnotherapist gal, Ewa, was very nice, well dressed, well put together and genuine.  We spent over an hour talking about how I'm a hot mess.  I think she spends 30 minutes with most people, but as we all know, I've got stuff on my mind.  She listened, wrote things down and then spent some time talking to me about things I had said and how I needed to change my thinking.  Look, we all know I have negative thoughts, but I think I raised the bar just a little when it comes to being a challenge.  She asked about my thoughts when I was eating peanut M&M's (the ones my boss "hides" in her office for us to stress eat on) and how that dialogue went.  I told her how I knew better and knew I shouldn't, but would anyway, blah, blah, blah.  It was then that she told me something very enlightening.  She said, "We can't possibly know why peanut M&M's came into your life.  We don't know the reason and there is no reason to spend a lot of time thinking about it.  We can know that they have served their purpose and it's time for them to leave your life.  Again, we don't know the purpose, but we can know that our body was not meant to live on or process peanut M&M's."

 Okay.  Now, you know I'm going to spend some time thinking about it.  I'll get back to you on my findings, but for right now, all I got is that they are tasty and are in constant supply.  But, I will concede, it's time to say good-bye.  Maybe now broccoli can have a purpose in my life that I won't really understand but live with until such time that it no longer needs to be here.  Maybe that time is when I can't stop passing gas because I've had too much broccoli.  I don't know, this is a lengthy process people, I can't be expected to have all the answers right away!

We then talked about my hatred of my body.  This is when shit got real.  Did you know that there is research proving that our cells have a memory and feelings of sorts.  They can hear your self-talk. Apparently, I have pissed off my cells and they just might be holding on to the fat as a defense mechanism or to get back at me.  I've essentially hurt their feelings.  That is a lot of cellular apologies I'm going to have to make.  I guess they must have had their feelings hurt every time I looked in the mirror and said, "OMG, YOU are so FAT!  Look at those huge thighs!"  My cells, the ungrateful little bastards, then raised up an army of cellulite to fight for them.  Apparently, they are like Marine cellulite.  Semper Fi bitches!  No one leaves these thighs without a weekend pass!  I've got a lot of work to do to disassemble the troops.  So, my body is pissed because I'm mean to it.  GOT THE MEMO, cellulite, stand down!

We then talked a lot about what it would be like if I let go of all that negative talk and let things happen organically and allowed the process to work.  Blah, blah, blah.  Then, she gave me a zebra eye mask, I kicked back in the chair and allowed my limbs to melt away.  She was all soothing and stuff and talked to me and asked me some questions. I did get seriously relaxed and was conscious of what she was saying and what was going on.  I do not believe at any time that I acted like a chicken or did the macarena.

I didn't really feel any different when I left.  Not uplifted or down, just...me.  I did start to get a toothache on the way home, so I am partially convinced she has conditioned me to have mouth pain so I can't eat.  I'm not saying that is 100% true, but it sure is a coincidence, don't you think?

The big test will be when I go to work tomorrow.  Do I walk in wearing a t-shirt and tennis shoes, take down the wall on the front of my desk and then kick back?  Do I go tell "The Bobs" who should be fired and give them my mission statement?  I don't know.  I can't possibly know the full effects of what transpired during the two hours today.  I know I'm not giddy and light like my good pal Stepford Barbie, but my issues are different than hers, so maybe my behaviors will manifest in a different way? 

I asked the hypnotherapist if I should come back or how this works.  Of course, every person is different, every person responds in their own time.  Some just need a session or two and they are good to go.  Others need to come in once a week or so.  I could tell she thought I was the latter of the two.  I guess I'll see how it goes.  Am I sold on it?  I don't know.  Do I need to do some work on my self talk?  Yes I do.

I do ask one favor of my work peeps, however.  If any of you see me with a stapler headed down to the basement where I am unable to see the squirrels, please stop me.  I don't want to go to prison for lighting the place on fire. 

Here are the stages of thought process in my head during the session.  Thoughts ranged from, "WTF?" to "eh, seems legit."

Groupon for Life Change

So, I've been pretty down for a while now.  Have not been blogging much as I don't really have much to say that hasn't been said at some point in my life already.  Blah, blah, blah.  I've proclaimed that I was going to live and try and live life to the fullest this summer.  Well, that has not happened and I'm in a serious slump.  These things happen. Repeatedly. I'm really just down on myself because I am counting up my weight loss failures and feeling hopeless.  Weight has come back that I vowed I would never let back.  I'm kind of a fraud.  At any rate, there are some attitudes that all the Prozac and therapy in the world is not going to change.  And, it is my attitude about my body and food that drags me down more than anything. Blah, blah, blah....

Anyway, all that brings me to today's inner dialogue, which I shall now put to the written word.  I have a good friend that has also been struggling with depression and feeling hopeless, but for very different reasons.  She talked to one of her friends that went to a hypnotherapist and it changed her friends life.  So, my friend went.  She got a deal on Groupon for a discounted session. She called me right after her appointment and was on cloud nine.  Literally, happier than I have ever heard her.  A carefree quality to her voice that I did not recognize.  She was laughing and looking forward to the weekend.  I was admittedly taken aback.  I didn't know if she had been slipped a roofie or what.  She was like, "OMG, Cassondra, you have to try this!!! It will change your life!"  I'm like, okay, uh-huh, will do, sure thing...okay, bu-bye now.  I actually tried hypnotherapy for weight loss several years ago and went a couple of times and didn't really feel like I was getting anything out of it.  The whole time I kept thinking, "Am I hypnotized now?....how about now?  I think I could be...no, not yet."  Mind you, I have no idea what one feels like if they are hypnotized, but I've seen stuff on TV.  This wasn't like that.

I saw my friend again today.  It's been over a week since she went through this session.  She is still giddy and happy.  It's freaking me out, honestly.  I asked her, "Are you sure you aren't just happy because you think you should be because you went to the appointment?  Like, your mind is just pretending to think what you wish it would?"  She adamantly said no. She is urging me to go.  I started to think about it.  And that is where the trouble started.

What if I go to hypnotherapy and it works and I start acting all happy?  Holy shit!  What would that look like?  Being carefree? Spontaneous...not worried.  It isn't possible.  It isn't.  We all know I am close to dying at any moment from a collision on I-5, from some fat person disease or  from a mega earthquake.  It's just a matter of time.  Or, even more likely, I could be home alone and become trapped in one of my FCD's (Fat Controlling Device).  It almost happened tonight.  You don't even know the danger. You've seen videos of wildlife stuck in traps or nets?  Same thing.

What if I start to go to work in the morning and say, "Good Morning!" And I mean it? NO, it's too much.  What if she programs me to not care when stall one is clogged? That's going too far.  I could be on the verge of a major identity crisis just thinking about this.  What if I stop being sarcastic?  Is that even possible?  I might shut down my Angry Pony blog and start one on inspirational quotes and shit.  This could be a major disaster.

Let's talk about food.  What if it's Shark Week and I've been deprogrammed for chocolate and I'm like, "Damn, if I don't get some carrots or broccoli, I'm gonna seriously lose it!" Or, worse yet, I start to look at Shark Week as a blessing and as a symbol of womanhood and what life is all about?  I'm starting to have anxiety about it.  Serious anxiety.  Maybe she can help me with anxiety?  Like, what if I order pizza for everyone at work and someone that really needed thin, gluten-free crust didn't get that and I just said, "oh, I'm sorry..." and gave zero fucks about it?  I can't even imagine that scenario.

What if I wasn't worried about the mega quake or dying of cancer or global warming and I just let everyone who's anyone merge in front of me on the freeway and I just listen to Enya all the way home? What if I just look for the joy in life?  I'm practically trembling in fear right now.

What if I become a gym bunny and start taking selfies at the gym everyday and wearing those spandex shorts with a thong thing over them? Borat style?  (Do girls still wear that?)  And then I end up in spin class and do yoga and shit?  I start walking around the locker room naked  and talking to all my workout bitches about my spray tan while my boobs jiggle around?  It could happen. (As the Rug Doctor says, "Yes, is it possible, but it's not likely.")

OR, worse.  What if I just think I'm "the shiznit" and walk around in a mini skirt and go to spin class, but I'm still in this fat body and make an ass out of myself and then for some strange reason, every time someone says, "Cassondra, did you get my expense report done?" I start inexplicably doing the Macarena?  I mean, I have concerns.  My friend seems okay, but she is bordering on Stepford Friend.  I don't even know what to do with her right now.  It's like, I can't look away, but I'm scared to take my eyes off of her.  I'm not 100% positive she hasn't been brainwashed.  My friends are dark...not this light and happy thing I don't understand.  Instead of being Boot Bitches we'll be...the Boot Belles or something with zero street cred.

I don't know how to be anymore than I am.  Which, honestly, is kind of the problem.  I'm not oblivious to that, just so you know.  I know at least one of you is thinking, "Duh, maybe you should try to care less and just find the daily joys."  It's people like you...you people...I'm not like you.  I do see joys here and there, but I'm focused on the big picture.  And maybe it's the wrong big picture. Maybe I'm focusing on the picture of the possessed clowns hacking up a baby bunny when I should be focusing on the picture of the butterfly landing gently on the petal of a flower while a curious little girl watches with amazement in her eyes.  Apparently the art gallery I visit is different than yours.  Maybe my GPS doesn't lead me to your art gallery.  I only go to the one I know instead of trying to find a new one in a town I don't know.

This shit just got deep.

So, anyway, I bought the damn Groupon and I'm going to hypnotherapy this week.  I'll give it a try. I've tried everything else and failed at everything else.  If the next blog you read is me talking about how effing happy I am (which is doubtful)...be afraid.  I am.