Hypnotherapy: the feet of a werewolf
I have been having a nagging feeling that my father still had power over me. I thought of Jesus, who, as his ministry was taking off, his family came “to take charge of him,” thinking him, “insane.” I felt like…my dad could do that. I feel like this journey has been amazing. But…could my dad just walk in one day and say, “That’s it! Come home! It’s over now…”
Part of me feels like it would still listen to him if he did.
I thought again of Jesus: going to the cross, He knew he had to face the devil: but he was unafraid, knowing that the Devil, “has no hold over me.” …but could I say this of my dad? It seemed like he still had a hold over me.
I preached in our church last sunday. Before preaching, I had this anxious thought: what if dad showed up? What if he just sat and sulked in the back? Or took me aside and said something right before I went on? Or texted me? Or even showed up, and yelled from the back, “this man is not worthy to speak!” Something like that?
I felt like my dad could make it all come crumbling down around me: like he could forbid me from participating and contributing in ministry.
*****
Session: “My father has absolute spiritual authority over me”
“As you think about the timeline of your life, is there a memory that comes to mind?”
I am thinking of a time…I must have been about 6-8.
“Where are you?”
My dad is working on his computer. I am standing beside him. I am mostly focused on the paper-holder that he made out of plywood. I can still remember the rough feel of it. I guess I remember it because it was about at eye-level for me.
“And what sorts of feelings are you feeling at that moment, in regards to the controlling thought, my father has absolute spiritual authority over me?”
I guess I am thinking that he would be worthy of that authority. It just seems like the sun is streaming in through the window, falling gently on him, lighting him up in a golden light. At that time, he was showing me insights from the Greek, and things he was learning from Scriptures. He would preach in church and people would seem to respond well.
It’s silly, but I remember one of the types of paper that he had…he said it cost $.10/sheet. It was made out of real wool, and had a water-mark behind the page that you could see if you held it up to the light. We just thought that was so amazing. He used it to print his resume on, because he thought it would help him get a job (he was unemployed for quite a while during this time). Now, I think that is just silly to think one’s resume is increased by the paper: but at the time, he just seemed amazing…
“And what do you feel now, for that child?”
I feel very sad for him. It is just so tragic. This child just wanted to do the right thing, and he looked up to his dad so much. But his dad was not really worthy of that.
“Is there a way that you can tell that to that child?”
I told the child, and all seemed to go dark. The child was very disconcerted.
“Why is he so troubled?”
Well, it seems like there should be somebody to look up to.
“Do you think there is a way to tell the child that you will take care of him, or make the child himself stronger?
As I watched, the light from the window shifted and began to shine on me. But mostly, I was looking through the window. I heard verses: “I look to the mountains. Where does my help come from? It comes from the Lord, maker of heaven and earth!” I felt like God was himself directing me to look up, to have a relationship with HIm.
As we talked more, I felt this is so right. I felt so drawn to worship God in that moment. I realized that “childhood adoration” (which is somewhat normal) was groomed in me to the place where I was literally giving to my earthly father a level of adoration and worship only meant for God. God alone was perfect. God alone was worthy of worship. God alone was wholly “good”
“Are there any other thoughts or memories?”
I thought of my dad first teaching me how to use a Greek concordance to find the “hidden” meanings for words. I thought of him teaching me the methodology to preach, and how I shared with him some of my early ideas for sermons. Although he did not teach me how to preach (my first sermon I preached as a very young teen, all on my own) I always said that he did. It was like that: if I did something remarkable, I needed to be careful to thank him and make it about him in some way. Otherwise, he would feel threatened, and maybe try to take the joy from it, or take it from me.
“Is there a way that you can take back the sermons from him?”
Well…recently I threw out the Greek concordance (the exact physical book) that he taught me from. It was old and falling apart and I use the computer now. And…I didn’t need those memories.
“That is good. Can you imagine your heart. With ties everywhere? What would it take to cut those ties?”
I could enter into the room of my heart. There were ropes and ties running everywhere. I had a large scissors in my hands. I tried to ask what the ties were, and what the scissors were, but I realized that I could just start cutting, and so I did.
“Is there anything that you need to clean out of this space?”
I began emptying my heart of a lot of objects that my dad had given me over the years. Old tackle boxes, wires, and the like. It was like a messy divorce — with a stack of things on the driveway outside, while the two are fighting and arguing. Then, I began going through my heart and saying, “this is mine…i did this on my own, thank you. No, that is mine too…” I actually visualized myself peeing on the corners of my heart. That’s gross, and I didn’t tell the therapist: but it was a primal sort of way of taking ownership. My dad turned from those eras in disgust and said, “OK, OK, I won’t try to take that…”
“Is there anything else in this memory?”
I was back to the room with the child. HIs feet.
“What about his feet?”
“And what does it mean that he has the feet of a warewolf?
It’s all fine and well when the sun is shining. But at night…I could see him transform and howl at the moon.
“What does it mean that he is a werewolf inside?”
I don’t know…what do werewolves want?
“I…don’t actually know. Why don’t I look that up…werewolves seek to devour people, and will destroy anything that comes in their path.”
As she said that I felt a tremor. I knew that was true. My dad is not a vampire. He is not cool and calculating. There is a raging beast inside that will steal, kill and destroy anything that gets in his way.
“What do you feel now for that little child?”
I feel some fear for him. But it is a good thing that he did not know at the time that his father was part werewolf. Because his father would have known that he knew, and it would not have been safe for him. (As I said this, I thought of Stockholm Syndrome, and trauma bonds. These bonds are so deep because the mind learns it must change how it thinks to protect the person. It is not enough to be a good actor: they must really learn to love violent and evil people. This is the only way to survive some situations. And these bonds can go on far past the trauma).
“Can you help that child in some way? Make him bigger, stronger?”
I saw the light from the window continue to shine on me. I did not have a clear picture of what the child turned into, but he became something like a very large knight, with a holy cross and a big sword, and other things meant to slay vampires and werewolves. With a yelp, I could hear the werewolf running away.
“How do you feel now about meeting him in person?”
I still feel some fear.
We discussed how bullies usually are looking for a reaction of some sort. And when they don’t get it, they tend to just go away. We discussed this, and re-enforeced the mental picture of being a knight, and making the werewolf run away.
I realized that my dad really is a bully. And that in a conflict, if he knows he can’t win, he doesn’t really engage. He just sulks off and mutters about how “stupid” the other person is. And so I don’t know that I really have that much to fear.
I talked about the fact that I sometimes have a great amount of fear of my dad: like, fear of him that is like a towering black shape, or a white wall of terror. I feel like he would be capable of killing me, or killing someone. His rage is that hot. But how much of that is my childhood terror at a dad who is sometimes out of control, and how much of that is a genuine, ongoing fear? It is hard to say.
“Why don’t you try thanking your fear?” I did this, and could begin to see fear taking its place. I realized that I do have a good gut. I am intuitive in reading people. And I have been far more assertive lately. And so perhaps I do not completely need to know what my dad is currently capable of: I can be alert and aware. I can trust my future self to keep me safe, and to protect others should the need arise.
This is about all that I remember from that session.
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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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