Hypnotherapy: Feeling mastered by my dad
(This is a synopsis of a hypnotherapy appointment. For the previous one, concerning my mom, see here)
Memory 1:
I was playing with a train set with some other kids. One girl was younger than I. I took a curved and a straight train set, and put them together as a gun, and gave it to her. The adults in the room reacted in horror, and my dad slapped them out of my hands. “Don’t play with guns.” He said this because he was embarrassed because of the other parents in the room.
“What did you learn from that experience?”
I learned to pay attention.
“What else did you learn?”
I learned that I could be disciplined for something, even when I had not been told something was wrong.
“Any other memories attached to this?”
I remember colouring a picture with Grandma in the same house. I felt very sleepy. I asked for a certain colour, and grandma told me she had more pencils in another room. I said I would make due with the colours I had: I didn’t feel like going to the other room to get them. She snapped at me to “not be so lazy” and “get up and go get them.”
“What did that make you feel?”
I felt frozen, and shamed.
“Can you go back in time, and extract the anger from that moment?”
I used a syringe, and pulled the anger from my Grandma (dad's side). In the syringe I could see her angry father, and the horrors of WWII that she lived through. The very harsh living conditions, where laziness was not an option. I pulled all of that from the memory.
“What would it have looked like if the memory had been different?”
I could see how if things had been different for Grandma, she could have handled the situation in a way that wouldn’t have been mildly traumatic for myself. Maybe I would have been gentler on myself as a consequence.
“Do you feel that you can let go of your ‘paying attention’?”
I don’t know. I observe and read people, and this is very helpful to myself. I don’t want to let that go. But maybe…it’s about not paying attention to the same people. Maybe I don’t need to pay such attention to my dad.
I feel like I am being pulled ahead to another memory. I can remember having my own preference in Christian music, and in books. I liked Jars of Clay, and I liked the book, “This Present Darkness” by Frank Peretti. The book especially moved me so deeply, and I wanted dad to know how much it meant to me. But he just said it wasn’t Biblical, and tried to ban it from the home. I was so emotional I started to cry and wanted to leave, but he yelled at me to stay. I feel like my boundaries were violated, and my right to have my own opinions.
“What did that look like?”
It was like I was a bonsai tree, and he kept trimming and trimming, to try to keep me small and manageable. Anywhere where I started to grow on my own, he tried to snip that off.
“Why don’t you just let that tree grow, and see where it goes…”
I could see the tiny tree smash through the glass container, and become a huge tree. I thought of the verse that a mustard seed, sown in a garden, takes over and becomes bigger than the trees…and takes over the whole world. I saw dad still frantically cutting, but the tree became calloused to his small scissors, and he wasn’t able to get through the bark. Then my pastor/mentor gave a big belly laugh and it felt so good to laugh and laugh.
“How does this relate to the statement that you felt mastered?”
I feel like…I won. Like, it relates to the statement, ‘I am competent, and God is always coming to rescue me.’ Even back then, so many times, Go was speaking to me. God was alive and active, and adopting me. And I can’t take credit for it…God was just there. Like another time, I remember reading my Bible, and then kneeling to pray. I started to pray, ‘God, I am a worm. I am such a worm!’ I felt like that was a spiritual thing to pray. But right away, I felt like God said, ‘No. That is not right. You are not a worm. You have value.’ That was way before I even had a belief that God talks to us. But I know that God said that to me. I feel like the ‘I am a worm’ message was a very religious message — maybe even something my dad would have wanted me to say. But God was speaking truth to me.
“So you were growing outside of his control?”
Yes, even then I see that I was growing beyond him. I even used the things I had — freezing, and pretending to submit, and reading him — to pretend that I was submissive, while really having my own private life, and world, and ideas. I had books I cared about and music I cared about, and I learned not to share it with him.
“And God also gave you that mentor.”
Yes, that is so true.
“Is there something else you would like to let go of?”
I feel like I am being lead to a memory of driving in the car, and I had really been struggling with the thought that a “good Chritian” should not get married, because he would have more time for God. So I was seriously considering being celibate for life. So I asked my dad, anand all he said was, “Well, you could do that, but most people don’t.”
“Why do you think that was relevant?”
I think maybe that was relevant because…as much as it wasn’t a bad thing to say…he really had no reason to say it. He didn’t make a Biblical or logical case. He just appealed to what was “normal.” And I just let that go. I let that be my answer for the rest of my life, instead of finding my own answer on that topic.
“So do you think in other ways, they used Scriptures to control you?”
Yes, there were lots of times they did that. Like, when there was a church split, dad was adamant that a certain person meet with him in private, otherwise he would not proceed at all with talks of reconciliation. This person refused: and I really don’t blame him. My dad is a scary guy: I sure wouldn’t want to be alone in a room with him and his anger. But since he wouldn’t be alone with him, dad felt like he was in the right, and he used that as a power play. Because you’re supposed to talk to the person in private first, then in public, etc.
Also, there was the time that I refused to let my dad hold my baby girl — because he was so mad. And you don’t get to hold my babies if you are mad at me. So then he didn’t talk to me for six months, and when he did, he quoted the verse, “If you go to the alter, and there realize that someone has something against you, go and make amends with them, and then offer your sacrifice.” And so he said, “You knew that I had something against you. But you did nothing. You should have made amedns with me.”
“Do you think that hone this was written, it was intended to tell you not to protect your daughter?”
No.
“So do you think that your dad masters you when he uses Scriptures?”
Well, he definitely uses Scriptures a lot. And it can be like a “double edged sword.” And there is a verse about a “fool saying idle words is like a madman slashing with a sword in the darkness.” (Or something like that). If you’re going to argue with him, he will definitely use Scriptures against you. And it can hurt.
“So do you think that he uses Scriptures better than you?”
(Instantly) no. Because I can see through it. He knows Scriptures, but not well. And even from a young age, I feel like there were many times when I would tell dad something about Scriptures, and he would say, “Who told you that?” or “Where did you read that interpretation?” And I said, “I don’t know. I just thought of it.” And God was speaking to me through Scriptures in a way that He didn’t for my dad. I still feel like Dad has just a very shallow, and narrow view of the Bible.
“Is there anything you would like to say to him now?”
I saw myself swelling up like a balloon. I wanted to tell dad about all of the things he was missing…music, art, literature, ideas….but the more I spoke, the more I swelled up and took all of the room. And he got smaller and smaller. I got on my hands and knees to try to find him, but he must have slipped through a crack in the floor.
“Is there anything else you would like to do before we are done?”
When I was about 12, I memorized the entire book of John for school, and got an award. I gave that award to my dad for being such an awesome dad, and for encouraging (actually, forcing) us to read Scriptures. I think I would like to take that award back. I think I deserve it more than he did.
…also, I just want to thank my Heavenly father. Because…He has always been so good to me. He has always opened Scriptures to me. He adopted me and gave me love when I didn’t hav eany.
I could just see a beam of pure light exploding from my chest and bursting into Heaven. It was gratitude.
The award jangled around my neck.
“Anything else?”
I keep thinking of…our cat. I don’t know why.
“Let’s just explore it.”
Well, we had this cat called Blitzit. We called it that because as a kitten, it was so fast. It would just run everywhere. But then it got old and fat. It would just sit around most days. It wasn’t very fast. Then it got cancer. It had a huge bulge on its side, and it would just stare into space. Sometimes it would be sitting there, and just fall straight over. Sometimes it would meow and make weird noises: it was ‘not really there” anymore. So my dad had to take it out and shoot it. It was kind of sad. I don’t see the relevance of all this…
“Do you think that is kind of like your dad?” Yes, I guess maybe. When he was younger, dad was healthier. But more and more, the cancer grows inside of his soul, and sometimes I wonder if there’s any good left.
… The end ..
Memory 1:
I was playing with a train set with some other kids. One girl was younger than I. I took a curved and a straight train set, and put them together as a gun, and gave it to her. The adults in the room reacted in horror, and my dad slapped them out of my hands. “Don’t play with guns.” He said this because he was embarrassed because of the other parents in the room.
“What did you learn from that experience?”
I learned to pay attention.
“What else did you learn?”
I learned that I could be disciplined for something, even when I had not been told something was wrong.
“Any other memories attached to this?”
I remember colouring a picture with Grandma in the same house. I felt very sleepy. I asked for a certain colour, and grandma told me she had more pencils in another room. I said I would make due with the colours I had: I didn’t feel like going to the other room to get them. She snapped at me to “not be so lazy” and “get up and go get them.”
“What did that make you feel?”
I felt frozen, and shamed.
“Can you go back in time, and extract the anger from that moment?”
I used a syringe, and pulled the anger from my Grandma (dad's side). In the syringe I could see her angry father, and the horrors of WWII that she lived through. The very harsh living conditions, where laziness was not an option. I pulled all of that from the memory.
“What would it have looked like if the memory had been different?”
I could see how if things had been different for Grandma, she could have handled the situation in a way that wouldn’t have been mildly traumatic for myself. Maybe I would have been gentler on myself as a consequence.
“Do you feel that you can let go of your ‘paying attention’?”
I don’t know. I observe and read people, and this is very helpful to myself. I don’t want to let that go. But maybe…it’s about not paying attention to the same people. Maybe I don’t need to pay such attention to my dad.
I feel like I am being pulled ahead to another memory. I can remember having my own preference in Christian music, and in books. I liked Jars of Clay, and I liked the book, “This Present Darkness” by Frank Peretti. The book especially moved me so deeply, and I wanted dad to know how much it meant to me. But he just said it wasn’t Biblical, and tried to ban it from the home. I was so emotional I started to cry and wanted to leave, but he yelled at me to stay. I feel like my boundaries were violated, and my right to have my own opinions.
“What did that look like?”
It was like I was a bonsai tree, and he kept trimming and trimming, to try to keep me small and manageable. Anywhere where I started to grow on my own, he tried to snip that off.
“Why don’t you just let that tree grow, and see where it goes…”
I could see the tiny tree smash through the glass container, and become a huge tree. I thought of the verse that a mustard seed, sown in a garden, takes over and becomes bigger than the trees…and takes over the whole world. I saw dad still frantically cutting, but the tree became calloused to his small scissors, and he wasn’t able to get through the bark. Then my pastor/mentor gave a big belly laugh and it felt so good to laugh and laugh.
“How does this relate to the statement that you felt mastered?”
I feel like…I won. Like, it relates to the statement, ‘I am competent, and God is always coming to rescue me.’ Even back then, so many times, Go was speaking to me. God was alive and active, and adopting me. And I can’t take credit for it…God was just there. Like another time, I remember reading my Bible, and then kneeling to pray. I started to pray, ‘God, I am a worm. I am such a worm!’ I felt like that was a spiritual thing to pray. But right away, I felt like God said, ‘No. That is not right. You are not a worm. You have value.’ That was way before I even had a belief that God talks to us. But I know that God said that to me. I feel like the ‘I am a worm’ message was a very religious message — maybe even something my dad would have wanted me to say. But God was speaking truth to me.
“So you were growing outside of his control?”
Yes, even then I see that I was growing beyond him. I even used the things I had — freezing, and pretending to submit, and reading him — to pretend that I was submissive, while really having my own private life, and world, and ideas. I had books I cared about and music I cared about, and I learned not to share it with him.
“And God also gave you that mentor.”
Yes, that is so true.
“Is there something else you would like to let go of?”
I feel like I am being lead to a memory of driving in the car, and I had really been struggling with the thought that a “good Chritian” should not get married, because he would have more time for God. So I was seriously considering being celibate for life. So I asked my dad, anand all he said was, “Well, you could do that, but most people don’t.”
“Why do you think that was relevant?”
I think maybe that was relevant because…as much as it wasn’t a bad thing to say…he really had no reason to say it. He didn’t make a Biblical or logical case. He just appealed to what was “normal.” And I just let that go. I let that be my answer for the rest of my life, instead of finding my own answer on that topic.
“So do you think in other ways, they used Scriptures to control you?”
Yes, there were lots of times they did that. Like, when there was a church split, dad was adamant that a certain person meet with him in private, otherwise he would not proceed at all with talks of reconciliation. This person refused: and I really don’t blame him. My dad is a scary guy: I sure wouldn’t want to be alone in a room with him and his anger. But since he wouldn’t be alone with him, dad felt like he was in the right, and he used that as a power play. Because you’re supposed to talk to the person in private first, then in public, etc.
Also, there was the time that I refused to let my dad hold my baby girl — because he was so mad. And you don’t get to hold my babies if you are mad at me. So then he didn’t talk to me for six months, and when he did, he quoted the verse, “If you go to the alter, and there realize that someone has something against you, go and make amends with them, and then offer your sacrifice.” And so he said, “You knew that I had something against you. But you did nothing. You should have made amedns with me.”
“Do you think that hone this was written, it was intended to tell you not to protect your daughter?”
No.
“So do you think that your dad masters you when he uses Scriptures?”
Well, he definitely uses Scriptures a lot. And it can be like a “double edged sword.” And there is a verse about a “fool saying idle words is like a madman slashing with a sword in the darkness.” (Or something like that). If you’re going to argue with him, he will definitely use Scriptures against you. And it can hurt.
“So do you think that he uses Scriptures better than you?”
(Instantly) no. Because I can see through it. He knows Scriptures, but not well. And even from a young age, I feel like there were many times when I would tell dad something about Scriptures, and he would say, “Who told you that?” or “Where did you read that interpretation?” And I said, “I don’t know. I just thought of it.” And God was speaking to me through Scriptures in a way that He didn’t for my dad. I still feel like Dad has just a very shallow, and narrow view of the Bible.
“Is there anything you would like to say to him now?”
I saw myself swelling up like a balloon. I wanted to tell dad about all of the things he was missing…music, art, literature, ideas….but the more I spoke, the more I swelled up and took all of the room. And he got smaller and smaller. I got on my hands and knees to try to find him, but he must have slipped through a crack in the floor.
“Is there anything else you would like to do before we are done?”
When I was about 12, I memorized the entire book of John for school, and got an award. I gave that award to my dad for being such an awesome dad, and for encouraging (actually, forcing) us to read Scriptures. I think I would like to take that award back. I think I deserve it more than he did.
…also, I just want to thank my Heavenly father. Because…He has always been so good to me. He has always opened Scriptures to me. He adopted me and gave me love when I didn’t hav eany.
I could just see a beam of pure light exploding from my chest and bursting into Heaven. It was gratitude.
The award jangled around my neck.
“Anything else?”
I keep thinking of…our cat. I don’t know why.
“Let’s just explore it.”
Well, we had this cat called Blitzit. We called it that because as a kitten, it was so fast. It would just run everywhere. But then it got old and fat. It would just sit around most days. It wasn’t very fast. Then it got cancer. It had a huge bulge on its side, and it would just stare into space. Sometimes it would be sitting there, and just fall straight over. Sometimes it would meow and make weird noises: it was ‘not really there” anymore. So my dad had to take it out and shoot it. It was kind of sad. I don’t see the relevance of all this…
“Do you think that is kind of like your dad?” Yes, I guess maybe. When he was younger, dad was healthier. But more and more, the cancer grows inside of his soul, and sometimes I wonder if there’s any good left.
… The end ..
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Chantelle Neufeld is a registered hypnotherapist. Her services are reasonably priced and available online. To book an appointment, click here. |
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