When I think about hypnotism, I imagine a Victorian stage, a man swinging a fob watch and the subject being duped into removing all their clothing.
But increasingly, hypnotherapy is being used to help people give up smoking or cure a fear of flying. My sister was once addicted to apples and ice cream. She visited a hypnotherapist and was cured after just one session.
However, as it has increased in popularity, the number of cowboys out there has proliferated.
Last month, Peter Naish, senior lecturer in psychology at the Open University and president elect of the hypnosis section of the Royal Society of Medicine, said that many therapists used techniques that induced false memories rather than bringing up genuine suppressed incidents - a terrifying thought.
To be honest, the idea of allowing anyone to put me into a trance and then suggest things fills me with trepidation. I don’t like not being in control, which is why I’ve never touched drugs or got drunk.
This fear of not being in charge of my faculties stems from the fact I have suffered from migraines since the age of 11. During an attack I lose my vision. I see flashing lights, my limbs feel numb and I can’t speak properly. Then I get severe pain and vomit. For three days.
As a child, this frightened me, but now I know what to expect. However, I still feel frightened when I can’t talk, so anything that involves meditation or messing with my brain makes me wary.
I have always suffered from severe anxiety. Aged five, I refused to leave my mum’s side. As a teenager, I was too scared to kiss boys.
All the therapy I’ve had has pointed to the root causes being a soft, loving mother who was fearful for my safety, so to this day, I still assume I’m going to be run over every time I cross the road.
I was also sexually molested by a group of boys in primary school. Consequently, I’m afraid of everything. Spiders. Skiing. Clifftops. Caves. Swimming pools. The postman. Bees. Moths. Bats. Men. Anyone knocking on my door. Bosses. Colleagues. Children. Snooty shop assistants.
Having dabbled with therapy over the past couple of years, I have got to the point where my extreme nervousness is stopping me doing normal things. I hide in my house rather than see people, even friends. I will not phone a relative, so acute is my phobia.
And then, a few months ago, I was riding my rescued pony, Benji, and with no warning he put his head between his knees and threw me off. He then galloped round and almost trampled me. I badly hurt my arm. Most of all, I was shaken.
Ever since, I have been unable to get on my rescued racehorse, so frayed are my nerves. And since I moved from London to Somerset so I could ride, my life is ruined.
At my wits’ end, I found the number of a registered hypnotherapist near my flat in London and called him, which for me is quite brave.
On a Tuesday evening I went for my first session with Philip Naniewski. First of all, he explained how he works.
“Stage hypnosis is a performance tool. Subjects are selected following a series of suggestibility tests,” he said.
“People who are extrovert and energetic are more likely to be selected. My method is to get you to relax, and then I suggest things that will help you overcome your fear.”
Can hypnosis be dangerous? “If performed by a qualified practitioner, hypnosis is safe.
“It would be inappropriate to work with someone with a serious mental illness.”
Philip said his impression of me was of someone “who finds it hard to relax”.
First, I sat in a chair and closed my eyes. I was to think of a place where I felt serene and happy. I told him I don’t have one.
“Okay, what is your favourite time of day?” It’s when I’m walking my dogs. This was good enough, so I closed my eyes and pictured walking in the fields. Philip then counted backwards from ten to one and then told me that when I woke up, I would begin to feel more confident, at peace and that this feeling would increase every day.
“Situations you might have found challenging will no longer affect you,” he said.
After half an hour, he quickly counted back up to ten and told me to open my eyes. I didn’t fall asleep or tumble into a trance, which he says sometimes happens, sometimes doesn’t. He told me I would wake feeling refreshed, and I did.
Philip is keen not to spend years treating a patient, often finding three or four sessions is sufficient for even the most deep-rooted problems, such as a fear of going to work (a businessman who was being bullied) to smoking or being unable to board an aircraft.
The key to success is homework. “You have to practise self-hypnosis every day. You have to practise feeling positive.”
I also have to repeat a mantra. Mine is: “Calm, Confident, Capable.”
I tell Philip I hate over-confident people, believing them to be deluded and dangerous.
“You will never be over- confident,” he told me. “I still want you to take care around your horse. Fear keeps us safe. But too much fear can be self- prophesying: you become tense and transmit your fear to your horse.” I am also to practise banishing any negative thoughts from my brain. Have you ever tried to spend even an hour without a negative thought? It’s torture. As I listened to the voice in my head, every single thought was negative - “I will be late. It will rain. I’ve got no food in the fridge. My internet won’t work and I’ll be fired. I’m going to crash, or run over a rabbit. I’m tired.”
As I examined my thoughts and reported back to Philip, I realised I never think positively. He explained that we can’t spend our lives expecting the worst.
But, of course, what you want to know is: does hypnosis work? Well, combined with thinking positively, I think it does. Someone who is close to me remarked that I seem more confident, and I arrived home smiling.
Philip told me that before getting on, I had to interact with my horse in a positive, confident way, keeping my adrenaline down. I have to trust her to not hurt me.
After just three hypnosis sessions, I woke and felt the time was right. The sun was shining, the wind wasn’t blowing and I thought I could do it.
“Calm, Confident, Capable,” I muttered to myself as I tacked her up gently.
Every time a negative thought entered my brain, I banished it. I lined up my horse next to the mounting block and, rubbing her neck all the while, landed gently in the saddle. “Calm, Confident, Capable,” I said.
She felt different beneath me, not her usual coiled spring, but relaxed.
And do you know what? For the first time since I was five, I really started to enjoy myself. - Daily Mail