I know this has been said before — but it still amazes me that sometimes, you spend your entire life thinking you know something but actually have no idea. Like how I spent the first 14 years of my life conditioning my hair and then shampooing it because I was an ornery, rebellious (read as: stupid) kid who didn’t want to be told how to wash her hair. Turns out MY way was the WRONG way; and I am forever grateful to have had this realisation at 14.
While there are a ton of instances in my life just like this, now it’s safe to say that self-hypnosis is not one of them. To be honest though, I don’t know what I was expecting. Did I think I’d wake up and say, “It’s seven years later, and I still think I’m a chicken” (??) Did I think that my skin picking habit — one that I’ve shiftily apologised for to countless beauty therapists, referenced in what feels like a thousand stories, and even had a few drinks about — would suddenly go away if I treat myself to a little self-hypnosis?
You guys probably know by now that I will try anything once — and sadly my decade-long struggle with compulsive skin-picking has stuck around post a laughable attempt at self-hypnosis. Don’t try this at home, kids! (No really, don’t. Especially if you’re sitting cross legged on the floor... it makes your bum really hurt when you get up.)
The first step is to induce hypnosis. I tried using a few visualisation techniques to calm myself down. I moved on to really meaningful visions too; like someone finishing all my work instead of me and my Sephora bills blowing away in a gentle breeze. I began rehearsing positive outcomes and was very mindful of my body. I was engulfed in an oasis of purity and felt a radiant light shine all over me.
“My skin is healing,” I repeated in a soothing voice. “I will be conscious of the power of my fingers.” Take a deep breath. “I will keep my hands, tweezers and ear buds far away from my face.” This went on repeat for a good 15 minutes; after which I started thinking about mutton biryani and Wannabe by Spice Girls. It all sort of went downhill from there. The pressure to be less stressed ended up stressing me out; and I was suddenly acutely aware of a bead of sweat that was slowly travelling down from my forehead.
I had even recorded my session and tried listening to it later. You see, there was something about my monotone voice that was so, so absolutely boring/relaxing, that I didn’t even realise when I passed out. Woke up a while later to myself still droning on about how, “I will distance myself from things going on around me…”
I had made a terrible mistake; and I suppose this also answers my other curiosities regarding my skin-picking habit: we’re doing it to ourselves, folks! To be honest, this whole thing hurt to write. Why do I do these things? Oh well, I’m off to stab at my flawed hair follicles. It’s your turn to tell me all about the questionable things you’ve done to rid yourself of certain habits!
The writer loves to over-share, drink wine & watch period dramas