No, I cannot make you cluck like a chicken

Let's get this out of the way immediately. No, I cannot make you cluck like a chicken.

I mean, technically, maybe, if you were a very willing participant in a stage hypnosis show and the suggestion landed just right and you'd had a couple of drinks. But that's not hypnotherapy. That's entertainment. The two have about as much in common as a GP and a magician. (Both involve a human and some level of trust. That's genuinely where the similarities end.)

The chicken thing is the first thing people say when I tell them what I do. Right after the slightly nervous laugh. I understand it, I really do. Stage hypnosis has been around forever, it's dramatic and funny and occasionally a bit mean, and it has completely taken over how most people understand hypnosis. Which is such a shame, because what actually happens in a hypnotherapy session is so much more interesting than someone pretending to be a farm animal.

Here's what actually happens. We talk. I ask questions, you talk, I listen. Properly listen, which is more of a rare experience than it should be. Then I guide you into a relaxed state, which feels less like being "under" something and more like that lovely floaty feeling just before you fall asleep. Still aware of everything, but the volume's been turned down a bit. You are not unconscious. You are absolutely not under my control. You could get up and walk out at any point. You won't, because it's actually rather pleasant, but you could.

In that relaxed state your brain gets quieter, and quieter means more open. Not "I will now do whatever you say" open. More "the usual noise has settled enough that we can get to the thing underneath" open. The habits, the fears, the patterns that have been chugging along on autopilot for years. That's what we're working with.

People bring me all sorts. Anxiety, sleep issues, phobias, habits they can't shake, confidence that's taken a battering somewhere along the way. Occasionally someone arrives already apologising for being a difficult case, which I find rather lovely actually. Nobody is a difficult case. People are just people, with complicated inner lives and years of accumulated stuff, and they've decided they'd like some help with it. That's all it takes.

So if you've been vaguely curious but the chicken thing has been quietly putting you off, consider that worry well and truly retired. You will leave my therapy room exactly as you arrived, species wise. Probably feeling quite a bit lighter though.