Closing Day - Sunday 20/4/1997


Slept 'till 6.05am. Got up 7.20am. Had shower and breakfast. Had great laugh in the kitchen then stripped bed and packed.

At 9.55am went into the session room for the three hour small group sharing. I was fine, even during my own sharing but went to pieces while listening to other harrowing experiences which was really just bringing up my own shit. Una, who was sitting beside me, held my hand which was so comforting. Finished up 1.05pm and again became very upset when hugging Una and Suzanne.

During lunch, a woman in my group needed a lot of comforting, so I remained in the dining room with her for a long time after lunch was over.

Returned to the session room for the Closing Ceremony at 3.00pm. Half way through I became very tired so rested against the cushions. By the time we all tidied up and said our farewells, I was ready to leave at 4.30pm. I gave the distraught woman my phone number and comforted her again for a few moments before leaving.

Got a lift into the city centre. Several times during the journey I felt very sick, mainly from the heat and tiredness. While waiting for my bus my head went really spacey, I felt dizzy and thought I was going to puke. Just about survived the journey and arrived home at 6.00pm.

By the time I got into the house I was feeling so bad I didn't care whether I eat or not even though I'd eaten very little all day. I just had a small amount of left-over potatoes. At around 7.45pm developed a terrible stomach cramp and following another dose of the runs, went to bed at 8.00pm where I instantly fell into a deep sleep.

Some Insights + Feelings From 26th/27th Holotropic Breathwork Workshops


18th April, 1997:
During session, when dealing with the disturbing, seemingly sexual thing, I became aware that the sense of exposure I felt during my ordeal has lasted throughout my life. (Feeling exposed when my hall door is open, when not wearing a heavy coat out walking, etc).

21st April, 1997:
Dreamed that three adolescent boys surrounded me on a dark street. I couldn't see their faces because it appeared like they had an invisible covering over the lower half of their face, their eyes were blank. I knew they were going to rape me. I froze with absolute terror.

22nd April, 1997:
Dreamed that a huge spider was crawling all over the wall behind my bed while I was lying in it but every time I tried to see it, it vanished. I just knew it was there.

24th April, 1997:
Dreamed that Tony put up a hand-written note on blue paper on a wall in one of the centres saying that if I didn't settle the two outstanding balances of £70 each, I could no longer participate in the weekend sessions as it was putting a lot of strain on Suzanne because she had to arrange for others to pay my share. I was devastated (in reality, I don't owe money to anyone).

26th April, 1997:
Could the medication I was given while attending a psychiatric hospital back in 1973/74 be responsible for my first contact, in a dream, with my power animal which is a black panther? Also, around that time had a very frightening dream about trains and tunnels. (The medication was to bring my subconscious to the surface).

9th May, 1997:
Returned to bed 9.00am. Within minutes began to go into a strange state where I felt a definite connection between what's coming up in my recent sessions and possible past life experiences. Very strong urge to die due to a combination of knowing that I shouldn't have been born in the first place and also something to do with almost dying whilst being born. Terrible need to return to England as I feel that's where I lived and died in a previous life.

12th May, 1997:
My desire to return to England is so strong it's physically painful. Want to have my ashes spread somewhere there. Rang Tony. He explained that my strange feelings are actually healing me and not to give in to sudden desires. Around 10.30pm, bad indigestion. Later, violent nausea. Couldn't go to be 'till 1.15am as I was sitting on the loo for over half an hour because I couldn't move with the dreadful nausea.

18th May, 1997:
Became very upset when I remembered how my mother would massage the top of my vagina in order to help me insert my anti-fungal cream applicator which I had to use every so often. I was around sixteen years old at the time. Even though I hated her for touching me I still couldn't tell her to stop, especially when she'd ask me if it was nice. I was so embarrassed. I also became upset when remembering my father's comments about my breasts and periods.

I found it so embarrassing when they would laugh while discussing sex and body parts with me in a most disgusting manner. I hated them for doing that to me. The sad thing was I don't think they saw any harm in it at all, it was not their intention to embarrass me.

19th May, 1997:
Over the past few days I've had what felt like a bad dose of 'flu, during which time my temperature, at one point, went up to over 102 degrees. That night I had a very vivid memory of playing with a couple of children in the avenue where I lived as a child. I could clearly see how one child, a younger sister of my friend, wore her hair. It was in double plaits which were tied together at the bottom. She was wearing a multi-coloured cardigan. I was about seven years old.

This evening began to clearly remember a dream I had about my childhood hometown when I was around fifteen or sixteen years old. It was like reliving the dream all over again. Even the colours were exactrly the same. Is it possible my high temperature triggered my subconscious?

Weekend Holotropic Breathwork Workshop 22-25/5/1997


I've just completed my fifth residential weekend and this time there were around thirty/thirty two participants.

Our facilitators were:-  Michael, Suzanne, Fiona, Katherine, Deirdre, Jenny and Ellen.

This weekend has, in many ways, been one of the most profound experiences of all my breathwork sessions to date.

Opening Night - Thursday 22/5/1997


Left the house at approx. 4.15pm. Got the 5.30pm bus and arrived at the Centre, 6.30pm. Several times during the journey felt a very deep sadness.

Following a short tea break we went into the session room around 7.30pm for our introductions. At about 9.25pm the experienced breathers, including myself, then returned to the session room for our Shamanic Journey.

This time I travelled down a tunnel which was high enough for me to walk through, and as I cautiously moved downwards, I was constantly aware of a strong earthy smell all around me. I felt the presence of my black panther but he wouldn't show himself. Almost immediately I went into intense grief and sobbed my guts out for the remainder of the journey. Later, talked with Michael for over half an hour about my terrible sadness then went into the kitchen where I remained very distant with everyone for a long time.

I had just begun talking to Don when Jane came in. I first met Jane at my first weekend in this centre last October and was deeply moved by her experience on the Friday. For some strange reason I felt connected to her ever since. Later, when Don left, Jane, Gerard, Noel and I got into very deep conversation and talked 'till 4.30am. Jane needed a smoke so we went out into the small back yard for a few moments, then after I left her down to her room, I went to bed around 4.45am.

28th Holotropic Breathwork Workshop 23/5/1997


Slept for about two hours altogether. Got up 7.20am. Didn't shower. Although I wasn't really tired, in fact, at times I felt quite energised, I was very much aware of the underlying sadness.

After breakfast we went into the session room at 9.00am for the first of the small group introductions. There were eleven participants in our group which was facilitated by Suzanne and Katherine. John asked me to be his partner.

The morning session got started at 10.05am with John breathing first. He completed his journey by 12.55pm and was ready to leave the room by 1.50pm.

After lunch we returned to the session room at 3.15pm. As always, I was very nervous, pacing around, hugging everyone in sight and generally dreading the afternoon. By 3.30pm we were all settled ready for take off.

"My breathing is going really well, straight down into my tummy but after a while I'm aware of the familiar band tightening across my mid-stomach, which this time doesn't interrupt my breathing. Another thing I'm very aware of is the coldness of the air going down into my lungs.

Now my hands begin to move over onto my tummy and I start to yawn and rock my head from side to side. Around half an hour later I go right into my sadness. I begin to push someone off me crying "No, please don't" over and over. I continue with this terrible ordeal until whoever it is completely takes over and I'm left totally helpless. I lie with my legs wide apart and hands stretched out crying and begging the person or people to stop. Evil eyes appear out of nowhere and stare menacingly at me. The whole thing lasts quite a long time.

Sometime later I ask John to get help and soon afterwards, Deirdre arrives. I go into incredible anger screaming at the top of my lungs and kicking out in all directions. Then feeling my body is going to explode I tell Deirdre and she encourages me to let that happen. It all comes out in more explosive rage. Now I feel all that shit in my gut and get Deirdre to press hard on it. Again I scream with every ounce of strength I've left but it's no good, it won't budge.

I return to my sadness, sobbing and choking on my tears then after a long time I tell Deirdre I'm OK. I also tell John to go for his dinner. Sometime later Fiona asks how I am and immediately I break down, desperately needing Michael and Suzanne to hold me. I'm told neither are available right now but they'll come as soon as they can. I tell Fiona that I think I've experienced my natural mother's rape. (I've no evidence to suggest that she was raped other than that she was forty one when I was conceived, she never informed my father of the pregnancy and he went to work in England before I was born).

By the time Suzanne arrives I'm so hysterical I can't even let her hold me for any length of time. I'm like a distraught toddler whose just found his mother after being lost for ages. A few minutes later I abruptly pull away from Suzanne begging to be let die because I'm so sad. Eventually I return to her arms and she holds me so close. I calm down and tell her about my crazy adoptive mother. It's just so good being held. I remain with Suzanne until I'm ready to leave the room at 7.50pm".

After drawing my Mandala, I had some dinner. At around 9.00pm we returned to the session room for the small group sharing, where at times, I found the terrible sense of sadness quite difficult to cope with. We left the room at 10.50pm and before I went into the kitchen I got a hug from Suzanne and Katherine, then outside, I got one from Deirdre.

When I arrived in the kitchen, Jane, Gerard and Noel were already seated at the table. I sat away from them for a good while writing up my journal but also because I was too upset to get involved in the conversation. Later I did join them and again we shared very deeply which was beautiful. The guys went up to bed at 4.00am and Jane and myself headed off up at 4.25am.

29th Holotropic Breathwork Workshop 24/5/1997


Slept 'till 6.15am. Fell back asleep 'till 6.40am and eventually got up 7.05am. After my breakfast had my shower.

At 9.00am we all went into the session room for the Naming Ceremony and my fairy card was "Freedom". The first session of the day got going at 9.55am with John again breathing first. This morning's music was chosen by Deirdre who also did the relaxation exercises. The music was wonderful and I moved to most of it except towards the end of the session when I became very distressed. I did my usual rocking and cried for what seemed like ages. Luckily for John he didn't need any assistance from me. He was ready to leave the room at 1.55pm.

When I went into the kitchen I got a strong feeling not to eat lunch, only to have some water. As I felt I was being guided in this I followed the instruction. We returned to the session room at 3.15pm. For some strange reason this time I wasn't a bit nervous. I talked with Don for a while then rested on the mattress while chatting to John on and off. My body felt very relaxed as I allowed Suzanne's gentle tone of voice wash over me. The afternoon session began at 3.30pm.

"After about five minutes I'm aware my breathing is going really well. The familiar pins and needles now become more intense than ever before and my hands move over onto my tummy. Around half an hour later, what seems like bolts of electricity, rush through my arms down into my hands and I slowly raise them up around my head feeling a tremendous energy flowing between them and it.

Suddenly I'm aware of a beautiful yellow light hovering directly over me and I gently take it in my cupped hands. I now slowly guide this light down my throat towards my heart but as soon as it reaches this area I can't allow it go any further and begin to sob uncontrollably.

Over and over I repeat this procedure until I finally accept the fact that I'm not yet ready to receive this healing.

Now my body is moving in perfect rhythm to the strong drumming music. I'm in total ecstasy as I lie, legs wide open, tilting my pelvis and making very erotic gentures with my hands, it's as if I'm inviting the world and its mother to publicly fuck me. I'm not sure what this triggers but I suddenly feel the need to pee. Sitting on the loo I realise it's not a very urgent need after all. When I return I try to go back into the breathing but I'm overcome by an intense anger.

After a while I abruptly sit up demanding that someone come immediately to help me. Within a couple of minutes Jenny introduces herself and enquires where my body hurts. As always I'm aware of the pain in my upper gut and I place her hand on it. She now gets me to lie down and begins to apply pressure to it. As I scream and kick in wild anger Jenny is encouraging me to really let go. At times it feels like I'm telling her to fuck off but really I don't know who it's actually directed at.

It seems around ten minutes later that I begin to feel my constant need throw up the disgusting shit which always seems connected to my childhood sexual abuse. Sudden gagging sends me over onto my hands and knees, and having eaten nothing since breakfast, my violent retching produces nothing more than the small amount of water I'd drunk earlier on. After what seems like ages of painful spewing up of that bastard's filth and all the rage that goes with it, I finally lie down, completely exhausted from my ordeal.

A slight shift in my position brings about a dreadful nausea which causes me to again gag forcefully and as there's nothing to come up I ask Jenny for some water.

While in my kneeling position I have a sudden vision of Michael in a field pulling open the entrance to an underground tunnel. As soon as this cover is removed a river of disgusting grey fluid rushes out and my black panther tells me it's OK to be sick.

Within seconds my gut is violently heaving up the water while Jenny holds my head over the basin and I press her hand deep into my stomach. Her voice is so soothing and her hands so gentle. There are moments when I wish I could die in order to relieve this terrible agony.

After I lie back down I'm aware of Jenny asking John to empty the basin which makes me feel guilty about causing him that trouble. Everything seems to be fine for a good while then another wave of nausea grips me and I'm back up on all fours spewing up more of the vile tasting liquid which so much resembles semen in every way. Its revolting taste causes me to heave several times long after I finish being sick.

It's at this point that I explode into the most overwhelming rage, screaming and thumping my fists into the mattress, while shouting obscenities in all directions. I tell everyone to fuck off and get out of my sight. Totally distraught I collapse face down sobbing my guts out while pleading with God to help me.

Jenny remains with me gently stroking my back and generally being very comforting then asks if it's OK for Ellen to be with me for a while. Before she leaves I give her a big hug and kiss. Again, she asks John to empty my basin.

I lie curled up on the mattress unable to move because of the dreadful nausea. Ellen lies beside me. Every so often I moan in agony and she slowly strokes my head, speaking softly to me as though I am a young child. Eventually I feel well enough to lie in her arms and soon afterwards we're joined by Suzanne who then takes over from Ellen.

On hearing how sick I've been Suzanne offers me some Rescue Remedy but I vigorously resist any attempt to help me. After placing my head on Suzanne's chest, my thumb searches and finds my mouth, then I drift off into a semi-conscious state of bliss. I'm aware of the awful sounds around me and of Suzanne and Ellen's voices but I don't really connect with any of them. I'm very much in the mind of a new born baby.

After what seems a very long time I'm ready to let Suzanne move away but Ellen remains with me. Katherine now arrives and lies beside me. With both of them close to me I begin to chat in a kind of drunken manner which often happens when I've completed a long hectic session. We have a good laugh. I'm ready to leave the room at around 8.20pm".

Suzanne very kindly left me into the kitchen where I collected some dinner then joined Don in the dining room. Emotionally,I felt very energised but physically, I felt shit. I definitely didn't feel like drawing my Mandala, so instead after I'd had a small amount of dinner, I went upstairs to get ready for the Cleansing Ceremony.

We all arrived in the session room at 9.30pm. Some women, in particular, a lovely woman in her early seventies, look absolutely stunning. I envied them all. One thing I did feel fairly OK about though was getting out on the floor again to "smudge" my partner. I'm beginning to get used to this. As always, I was deeply moved by the beautiful ceremony.

Afterwards I felt very drained and wasn't in any mood for dancing though I did get into the music and enjoyed watching everyone just letting themselves go. A while later, still resting against a bunch of bean bags, I began to feel a little better, so sitting more upright, I played mock drums on my knees in rhythm to the hypnotic African sounds. I had fun with this for ages until I became very tired again.

People were coming over trying to get me up to dance but I felt too awful to budge. It was exactly like suffering from motion sickness, one small move would have had me puking everywhere. I curled up against a bean bag and after a while Katherine covered me with a duvet. Shortly afterwards I fell asleep.

When I finally woke up the music had stopped. Michael, Katherine plus a couple of others were packing up and getting ready for bed. I felt a tiny bit better and glancing at the clock in the session room, realised it was 1.00am. I needed to tell Michael about my Shamanic journey during my session so when he'd put his things away in the little room beside the session room I went through the whole experience with him. Afterwards he gave me a big hug.

Went straight into the kitchen. Shortly afterwards began to feel very nauseous again and found it difficult to talk with anyone. Several times while I was talking with Noel I felt I was going to puke and had to tell him so.

Later I began to feel a lot better and by that time the intimate sharing had begun again. It was beautiful. We then finished washing up the left-over dinner delph and headed off up to bed at 4.00am.

Closing Day - Sunday 25/5/1997


Slept 'till 6.30am then went back to sleep 'till 7.30am. Got up 8.00am. Didn't feel like taking a shower. After breakfast drew my Mandala which depicted the two healing aspects of the session (yesterday's) - the healing light and Shamanic journey.

At 10.00am went into the session room for small group sharing. It got going at 10.20am. I was fine 'till the very end when two distressed partners hugged each other. I just erupted into almost hysterical sobbing and later found hugging the group very painful but also very comforting.

After lunch I was on wash-up duty with Don, Una plus a couple of others. I happened to mention that I'm sometimes very slow at doing things, in a way I was jokingly jeering myself. We had made our way through most of the dishes when a member of the kitchen staff passed a remark something like "would you mind if I took over because your're a bit slow and if you haven't finished by the time you go back inside, I'll be left to do it".

At first I laughed it off but then the true realisation set in, that I'd been publicly humiliated and made feel incompetent. If she had kicked me in the teeth it wouldn't have physically hurt so much. I was thrown straight back into feelings both from my childhood and indeed adulthood of being totally stupid and irresponsible.

I began to quietly cry as I continued to wash up. When she returned and found me upset she immediatley realised that she had hurt me deeply and brought me outside to the small back yard. I instantly felt that this event was meant to happen to put me back in touch with those painful episodes in my life. I spent most of the time comforting her because she was very upset at what she'd said and in the end I repeatedly thanked her for granting me the opportunity to once again feel that pain and hopefully begin the process of healing it.

When I returned to the session room Una sat beside me and it was then that I completely went to pieces. I was so distraught I had to leave the room and wandered up and down the corridor in a state of total shock. Eventually I went back into the room where Jane asked me to sit beside her then took me in her arms. Every so often I totally broke down then recovered. During the Closing Ceremony I offered everyone my "healing light".

After tidying up and saying my goodbyes I got a lift with Don and Sally (the stunningly beautiful lady). During the journey I felt fairly OK. Don drove us to Sally's house. By then I was feeling very spaced out. She invited us in for a cup of tea and we gratefully accepted her kind offer. Even while in Sally's house I felt that I might do or say something wrong and was still very close to tears.

Again during the journey home with Don I felt so inadequate when guiding him to my house. Arrived home 8.00pm Felt OK when describing the weekend to my husband. By 10.00pm I was really freaked and told him about the incident in the kitchen. I felt so sad I just wanted to die. Went straight to bed and cried for ages.

Some Insights + Feelings From 28th/29th Holotropic Breathwork Workshops


1st June, 1997:

Realised that all my food binges last week and over the weekend was really me pushing down the awful pain associated with my feelings of humiliation.

30th Holotropic Breathwork Workshop 8/6/1997


While taking my shower came very close to being sick. Felt really dreadful. Arrived at the Centre at 8.50am. It was great to see Tony and Fiona again and particularly good to see Tony as I hadn't worked with him since March '97.

There were ten participants including myself. The introductions and meditation started around 9.25am after which Sarah and I chose each other as partners. As Sarah wanted to breathe in the afternoon, I felt I was meant to breathe first. I found that a bit unnerving. After setting up camp in my favourite corner, I settled down to begin my journey at 10.10am.

"After a few minutes of breathing I begin to yawn and scratch my face and neck. This continues for a good while before moving my hands up onto my tummy and generally becoming slightly agitated. Sometime later I begin to move my head and while initially letting out a few shouts I then suddenly scream out from my guts and go into an intense rage which seems to last forever.

From there I begin to have terrible feelings of sadness where I'm aware of having let so many people hurt me during my life, these people include my adoptive parents. I scream and curse them, hating them for all the physical and emotional pain they've caused me all those years. I cry for a while. Now I'm dying to pee and while Sarah helps me out to the loo, I'm aware I'm actually staggering, almost as though I'm pissed.

When I return to the room I try to get back into the breathing but it just doesn't seem to happen. Eventually I go into some kind of birth stuff and soon I'm aware of Tony beside me urging me to keep breathing. I don't know what's happening but I tell him to fuck off and leave me alone, then scream at him, trying to push him away.

I want to leave the room altogether. I've so much anger inside me I'm too angry to breathe. Tony gets really firm with me and it's then I try my best to co-operate.

After breathing for a few minutes I return to all my rage, screaming and kicking and really putting up quite a fight. I feel I want to cry but for some reason, I can't. Shortly afterwards the familiar pain in my gut begins and when I tell Tony he presses really hard on it while I roar out my obscenities. Now the pain is in my lower tummy and as pressure is applied to that I once again erupt into a frenzied rage which, by the time it finally abates, leaves me totally drained.

At some point later Tony asks how my body feels and I tell him I think I'm OK. He suggests I rest for a while and tells me he will return later to check me and if necessary do some more work with me. Just after that I tell Sarah it's OK for her to go to lunch. I then curl up on the mattress and cover my head with the blanket feeling very confused.

I don't really know why I'm reacting so angrily to all the suffering going on around me and at one stage I actually shout at some poor soul to shut up. I'm fighting really hard to prevent myself from getting up and kicking someone to death. After a while I calm down a little and when one of the "sitters" comes over to see how I am, I ask her for some water. For some reason I'm very thirsty and over the course of about twenty minutes I drink several cups of the stuff.

I'm finding it very difficult to settle in any one position so toss and turn quite a bit in an attempt to ease my emotional discomfort. After Sarah returns, I decide I don't want to remain in the room any longer so I leave at around 2.00pm feeling absolutely shattered".

When I sat down to draw my Mandala I had a total blank. Nothing. A few moments later another girl came in to do her drawing and I began talking nonsense to her then I suddenly jumped up telling her I had to get out of there. Sat on the floor in the kitchen nibbling at some rice cakes. Later, I talked with Don for a few moments.

By the time we returned to the session room at 2.50pm I was feeling really sick. The afternoon session started around 3.10pm but very soon afterwards I developed a stabbing pain in the left side of my forehead. It lasted throughout the session along with the awful nausea. Sarah had a very powerful experience but thankfully I was able to help when needed.

As I didn't know the time for the remainder of the evening, I'm guessing it was around 6.30pm when Tony sent me for a break and when I returned about fifteen minutes later, it felt so good to be able to comfort Sarah. After she ws settled in the Mandala room I returned to the kitchen to finish my coffee.

At around 7.30pm we returned to the session room for our group sharing. It was during this that I began to realise that I still hadn't properly come out of my own experience. Also, I still had the headache and nausea. When I began to share I became very upset and found it difficult to speak so Tony suggested we talk afterwards. We probably finished up around 8.30pm.

After I'd stacked up a lot of cushions I saw Tony standing in the middle of the room. When I went over to him for a hug I immediately broke down. I was so aware of how, all my life, I'd let people hurt me and this insight brought about feelings of anger and sadness. I sobbed uncontrollably telling Tony I needed to scream while also desperately aware that this wasn't the time or place to do so. He asked if I would like to do more work and eventually I agreed to give it a try. I was so distressed I couldn't even make a simple decision. Just as the last people were leaving Tony got me to sit on the floor where I completely went to pieces.

I've no memory of seeing who was last to leave the room but I was later told it was Sarah. My state of mind at that stage resembled that of someone totally pissed with no awareness of anything or anybody other than myself and my sadness. Unfortunately, as I was so completely out of it, the following account of my "extended session" contains only the more dramatic elements of my experience.

"After I lay down on the mattress I showed Tony where my head hurt. He got me to breathe and almost immediately I was straight back into my screaming, kicking and cursing. I clearly remember being very angry at my (now deceased) adoptive mother and calling her a "fucking cunt" (a term which I would normally never use).

I think it was Fiona's hands which cupped my head, forcing me to yell and push hard against the pressure. As I continued to scream I began to feel very nauseous and desperately tried to resist the awful urge to retch. One of them then told me it was OK to be sick. My behaviour became very childlike moaning and groaning about my tummy hurting.

As in my morning session I began to feel the terrible discomfort in my upper gut and once again I forced Tony's hand deep into the pain. After a few moments of pressure I erupted into another fit of rage then suddenly I couldn't breathe.

While Tony worked hard on my throat and tummy the choking sensation worsened and I honestly thought I was going to die. I screamed at someone to let me out and as I went deeper into the experience I again began to feel very sick. Desperately trying not to choke I fought to escape from the terrifying grip of whatever was holding me back but overcome by nausea I bolted over onto my hands and knees and began to dry retch which became very painful after a while.

I don't remember who was with me during this disgusting episode but when I'd finally recovered Tony got me to like back down on the mattress. No sooner had I started back into the breathing when I was up on all fours again feeling really bad but unable to bring up anything as I hadn't eaten all day. I was in absolute agony.

Several times, following each of my bouts of unproductive heaving I screamed in crazed anger wanting to lash out at everyone and everything in sight. At one point I rammed my fingers down my throat and puked up thick white yukky-tasting gunge.

Around this time there was a knock on the door which completely panicked me into thinking it was my adoptive mother coming to punish me for being late. I was terrified and clung onto Fiona for dear life. She really had her work cut out trying to bring me back to reality but eventually I began to return to some degree of normality.

I remember Tony saying "hello tiger" which made me laugh. For a while I felt like a new born baby breathing for the first time and trying to familiarise myself with my new surroundings. At some point I was standing up and became very dizzy so Tony got me to kneel back on my heels which helped stabilise me somewhat. Later, when he asked me to kneel upright and breathe deeply I suddenly felt very sick. I was also still having a problem with my breathing but it was nothing to what it had been".

Eventually I was well enough to think about going home. I felt really guilty about delaying Tony and Fiona but they reassured me saying that they were glad that I'd been able to complete my process. The three of us left the Centre at 10.00pm with Fiona very kindly leaving me right to my hall door. By then it was 10.30pm. Twice our dog became very distressed, howling and walking away from me which was really strange indeed. I had a couple of small potatoes and a cup of Camomile tea but I still felt in a complete state of shock, able only to sit staring into space for ages. Eventually I went to bed at 11.30pm.

Some Insights + Feelings From 30th Holotropic Breathwork Workshop


9th June 1997:
During the early hours of morning dreamed I was flying to England holding onto the outside of a beautiful spaceship. The colours in the skies were magnificent, reds, dark blues and sometimes black.

10th June 1997:
Dreamed for a long time about a hospital. Also a large department store where there was one huge room with toilets all around the walls and some even in the centre of the room. It was completely open-plan with no privacy.

11th June 1997:
Strange dream about lying in a bed in some sort of hospital watching cows having their insides pulled out. I could clearly remember the rancid stench of blood which emanated from the abattoir I used to visit beside my school when I was about 14 years old.

22nd June 1997:
Sudden strong feeling that when our loved ones die we should not try to hold onto them. It is OK to remember and pray for them, but we should not interfere with their journey into their new life by wishing they were still here. We have to let them go. Still believe that my youngest child is a reincarnation of his paternal grand-uncle. I also believe that the youngest daughter of a friend might well be the reincarnation of a close relative on her mother’s (my friend’s) side of the family.

25th June 1997:
Dreamed of a weekend breathwork workshop. It took place in one of the centres which was also an old hospital where I was a patient. I remember being in bed, then the next thing was the three hour sharing on Sunday morning. We gathered in a huge room with steel tables and chairs around the walls. Suzanne was seated at the top of the room. It was all so business-like and cold, with Suzanne showing no feelings towards anyone. We then had to go back to bed. I was distraught.

28th June 1997:
Dreamed I was walking down a Dublin street one evening. Big wooden door opened outwards revealing the beautiful ballet dancer who stood motionless in a semi-darkened room of the old building. I went in. Lots of dancers and a choreographer who suggested that I should lose some weight. I ran down a corridor which seemed to be within a prison. At the end of this corridor was a huge white iron door. Realising there was no escape, I hurriedly began my return journey and was shocked to discover it was Sarah who lead the way even though I couldn’t see her face. I was terrified I would be late home.

4th July 1997:
Had a one hour therapy session with Tony this afternoon. Dealt with a lot of birth stuff. Later, attended Sarah’s birthday party. It was a lovely occasion with so many of our other friends present, including:- Don, Abby and Margaret.

5th July 1997:
Went along to Stan Grof’s Dublin lecture at 1.30pm. Recognised so many old friends, some from recent sessions, others from my earlier work with Lynn and Ken. Don and Sarah sat beside me. Stan was fascinating to listen to but towards the end, when he was discussing the trauma of birth, I became quite distressed feeling dizzy and tearful. Also, my old gut pain returned as I felt the familiar fear of my own birth process mounting inside me. Later I discovered that I wasn’t the only one affected. Sarah and Margaret were also somewhat disturbed by some of the subjects raised during the course of the afternoon. Within minutes of arriving home I threw up. I strongly suspect this was a cathartic response to Stan’s highly emotive talk which triggered so much of my own process plus our subsequent private conversation. (At the end of the lecture, I waited ‘till he was alone, then went up and told him how most of my sessions dealt with birth. When I told him how I was feeling then he suggested that I do another session as soon as possible. At one point, while still discussing fear, he replied to one of my questions with a very strange answer. Something about some man whose greatest fear was vomiting).

7th July 1997:
Began my Summer holidays in France with the family. The depression I’d been going through during the past few months now truly came to a head. I was totally unable to cope with anything and many times found myself walking through the streets with tears rolling down my face. I was beyond caring.

22nd July 1997:
During my therapy session with Alan I was so distressed (screaming, abusive, thumping the wall) he suggested I should be in hospital for a while. He contacted Tony who agreed with him.

23rd July 1997:
Went to my own doctor who arranged for me to be admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I finally arrived there at 2.00pm in an extremely agitated state, and within a few hours they had begun to sedate me.

24th July 1997:
Began the day by being fiercely abusive towards the senior doctor but later on as the medication began to kick in, I apologised for my shocking behaviour.

1st Aug 1997:
Was discharged at mid-day on the condition that I return after the week-end if things got bad again. Over the past few days I’ve started on the anti-depressant, Seroxat (Paxil) 20mg. which I will remain on for the next six months.

August 1997:
As a result of all the medication (tranquillizers, sleeping pills and anti-depressants), I remember very little of my nine-day stay in hospital. Had a few more one-hour therapy sessions with Tony where, during one of them, I spontaneously went into a very deep regressed state. It was very frightening for both Tony and myself as it took quite a long time for me to come out of it. Whether it was the shock of that experience or something even more weird, suddenly I found myself beginning to clearly understand, for the very first time, everything that Tony was explaining to me about the breathwork process. It was as if my brain, by some form of magic, had instantly been jolted awake from its lifelong comatose state. I also felt very hungry. After leaving the premises I headed straight for the nearest Burger King where I had a huge oozy burger and chips. My feelings then of total inner peace mirrored those following a really good breathwork session.

25th Sept 1997:
Looking back now to last June and July I think I’m finally beginning to understand why I disintegrated into the broken person I became back then. Both Tony and I agree that I’ve now reached the stage in my process where something very big is lurking just below the surface waiting to be freed. (For a lot of people some of this “thing” makes its way through and because of the physical and psychological symptoms it presents it’s often very wrongly mistaken for a nervous breakdown). We also agree that, for the time being, I should take a break from breathwork. The frightening and overwhelming state I entered prior to and during my Summer holiday is in fact referred to by Stan Grof as a “Spiritual Emergency” but sadly as yet (at time of writing) there is no facility here in Ireland to cope with such a crises. As a result that is why people like myself end up in psychiatric hospitals being pumped full of pills for simply being in a state of mind that eventually will lead to complete healing. When I think back on the dream I had on holiday in which I was in a long black tunnel squashed by huge iron claws and feeling the excruciating pain rack every inch of my body I realise now I was not going crazy, even though my family and I thought it at the time. As soon as I arrived home from France I knew I had to draw this image, so the following morning, as soon as I woke up I drew a picture of the dark tunnel, which I named “Birth Tunnel”.

Terrified, I continue my struggle……

Insights Update 2004


"The most important thing is to realize that traditional psychology and psychiatry do not make a distinction between a mystical experience and a psychotic experience. From a traditional point of view, all forms of non-ordinary states of consciousness - with the exception of dreams where there is a certain tolerance - would be interpreted as pathological phenomena...." Stanislav Grof, M.D

I would like, if I may, to take a few more moments of the reader's time just to briefly explain how things have been going for me since my last breathwork session a little over twelve years ago.

Following my discharge from the psychiatric hospital in July '97 where I was treated for depression for nine days, I was both shocked and saddened to discover that I was no longer seen, by some, as a normal member of society.  People I love and trust suddenly started treating me as though I were completely crazy.  I was told I could no longer be trusted, but the saddest and most painful comment of all was the suggestion that I should not be working with children.  That statement in effect put me in the same category as a paedophile.

Just while I'm on the subject of mental health, I would like to question why psychiatrists feel the need to drug patients up to their eyeballs on admittance to hospital - especially someone suffering from depression.  I spent the first three days in bed stoned out of my mind and feeling absolutely wonderful!  The only time I did show any kind of emotion was just before the drugs kicked in when I yelled at the doctor for not listening to me.  He said he would be back when I calmed down.  I left that hospital high as a kite without ever once having dealt with the underlying cause of my depression.

"Many people who have transpersonal experiences are automatically treated as psychotics, people suffering from a mental disease, because psychiatrists do not make a distinction between a mystical experience and a psychotic experience.

The concept of spiritual emergency suggests that many episodes of non-ordinary states of consciousness that are currently diagnosed as psychoses and treated by suppressive medication are actually crises of transformation and spiritual opening.  Instead of routine suppression through drugs, we should give these people support and guidance to help them through these experiences.  When properly understood and properly guided, these states can result in emotional and psychosomatic healing and positive personality transformation...."  Stanislav Grof, M.D


The medication, Seroxat 20mg (Paxil) certainly did help with the depression and seems to have cured, if that's the word, my eating disorder.  However, what was not explained to me, of course, was the awful withdrawal symptoms I would have to endure when trying to come off the tablet.  That perhaps was not their concern.

I'm glad to report that ten years ago, after many unsuccessful attempts, I finally managed to come off my medication and I'm now functioning very well without it.  There's no doubt that these medicines have their good uses, but in my case I don't think that's what was needed.

The support that could have really helped me through those rough times would have been in the form of a loving environment where I could (for as long as it would take) deal with the overwhelming painful shit that surfaced from my breathwork.  My ideal sanctuary would be in tranquil surroundings with trained staff who would be available twenty four hours a day to take care of the person going through what Dr. Stanislav Grof refers to as a "spiritual emergency".  There is a definite need for such safe places for those who need their shelter.

"In general, if we have transpersonal experiences, have the right context for understanding them, and are able to integrate them well, we are learning about important dimensions of reality and that has to be beneficial and enhancing.  Fortunately, as the sophistication in regard to non-ordinary states is gradually increasing in general population and among professionals, more and more people will be able to experience the transpersonal realm with adequate support and under favourable conditions...."  Stanislav Grof, M.D

However, having come through not my breakdown but my breakthrough, I now realise how privileged I've been to experience my suffering.  Out of all that pain came an understanding of what can sometimes drive people to hurt others (their own suffering) and through that understanding came forgiveness.  Here I refer to my adoptive parents.

Without sounding like I'm trying to justify their, at times, unforgivable behaviour, I would like to give the reader some insight into my parents' background which I feel is responsible for the reasons behind the emotional and physical torment they inflicted on me.

To begin with neither of them would have had the opportunity or even contemplated dealing with their own suffering because in those days people would have just struggled on, confiding in no one.

Although it may seem they showed nothing but hate and cruelty towards me, for the most part I did have a very happy time with them.  Of course there were the bad times but also there were many many wonderful moments.  I loved them dearly but sadly was incapable of expressing it.  My problem, not theirs.

Bearing in mind that my adoptive mother was going through a very difficult menopause during the time I was adopted, plus then having to care for an emotionally damaged and sickly child, it's no wonder that at times she almost lost her mind.

A short while after her death in 1996 my father told me of times when she would become very agitated during the night, screaming insults at him.  He would have to call the doctor sometimes at 3.00am who would then want to admit her to the psychiatric hospital but he would never agree to that.  He loved her so much.

I now realise that the times when she would start screaming and deliberately terrifying me must have been the moments when she just completely snapped.  I don't think she had any control over it.  Or the occasions when she would beat me in the street with a rope in front of everyone.  It hurt like hell but I now realise that it was she who was hurting so much more.  Nevertheless, until recent years, I suffered from a kind of social phobia where I sometimes dreaded actually leaving the house in case people started looking at me.  I've learned to somehow control this anxiety, no longer needing to take a deep breath before walking out the door, it was almost like going on stage, I suppose.

Another bad moment was when I brought home some kittens which I thought I was saving from inevitable death and she made me drown them while she watched.  I carried that guilt around for many a year afterwards.  All I can hope for is that I sent the kittys to a better place and that they have forgiven me.  During the times when she was happy we would have wonderful moments together.  Like the days, when on our way home from school, we'd walk along the beach close to our house, or every Sunday afternoon when Dad would be asleep, she'd take the dog and I for a walk lasting sometimes a couple of hours.  During that time we would often have very intimate conversations where I would suddenly feel very close to her and wished that I could express my love for her.  The words somehow always got stuck in my throat.

My adoptive father also had more than his fair share of sadness to contend with.  As a baby he lost his parents and sister to illness and a tragic accident and as a result he and his siblings were raised by his grandmother.  Not a great start to life. 

I gather times weren't too bad during his adolescence and early adulthood although he did leave school at ten years of age.  His marriage, which should have brought him the long-awaited happiness he deserved, ended in tragedy.  His wife died thirty six weeks into her pregnancy from a "retroperitoneal haemorrhage" according to the death certificate.  Of course, the baby died along with her.

Two years later he married my mother who sadly was not able to give him any children either.  So, given all the sad and traumatic events in his life, it sure doesn't take a degree in psychology to figure out where his hurt was coming from.  Still, for the most part, he was a good father to me and a loving husband to my mother.

I now realise that his unbearable and understandable anger must have been so easily triggered any time I did something wrong.  I know deep down he loved me very much and would not have willingly hurt me.  I hated him while he was beating me but then I'd immediately forget about it.  Two minutes later I would hug him.

Those beatings, while they left no physical scars, definitely instilled in me a strange defence response to any sudden movement.  If I was speaking to someone for instance and they happened to raise their arm while gesturing I would instantly duck to defend myself.  We would usually laugh with them saying something like "did you think I was going to hit you?".

However, one of my happiest memories as a child was when my father, on our way home from Mass on Sundays would buy me the Beano and Dandy comics and read them to me before dinner.  It's those kind of moments that I hold dear and despite everything they were the best parents I could ever have hoped for.  In some ways, they were as innocent as children themselves.

My breathwork sessions certainly brought out all my anger and frustrations at my parents' behaviour towards me but it also helped me to understand where they were coming from, their sadness and undealt-with anger which drove them to do these terrible things.

Despite their shortcomings my adoptive parents were good people.

In recent times there's been something else which I've become aware of and that is I'm no longer looking for a mother figure in friends' mothers or any other older woman I become friendly with.  I spent almost my entire life searching for the physical contact and emotional security I'd lost the day I was given up for adoption by my natural mother so whenever I would meet a motherly type of woman I'd dearly wish she was my mum and indeed in later years when I as drunk I'd tell her so.  Another way I'd try to retrieve these long lost feelings was by entering relationships with men so much older than me, even when I was still a child.  I suppose the fact that a grown up person was hugging and kissing me was all I needed to make me feel I was being loved.  I didn't really care where the affection was coming from as long as I could have it.  Becoming a wife and mother certainly went a long way towards fulfilling that desire although the old feelings of anger and resentment towards my natural mother and adoptive parents still stoood in the way of allowing me to fully experience the wonderful gift of love I was receiving from my husband and children.

It wasn't until quite a while after completing my breathwork and therapy sessions with Alan that I noticed I was no longer searching for that lost love.  The need just wasn't there any more.  Returning to and re-experiencing the pain of being separated from my mother shortly after my birth has given me the freedom to let go and finally move on from the traumatic event.  The terrible hurt it seems has at last been healed.

Through re-experiencing that pain which I felt as a baby when separated from my mother I was later consumed by an overwhelming desire to comfort and care for babies going through exactly that same trauma.  So, several months after a hysterectomy in 1998 which also involved having my ovaries and fallopian tubes removed, I began part-time volunteer work in my local childrens' hospital with babies who, for whatever reason, can't have the love and attention they so desperately need from their parents.  I try, during those few hours, to provide even a tiny piece of that love which I hope will help them grow into happy, loving adults.

Unfortunately, owing to more recent ill health which this time is a semi-blocked heart artery, I had to take a few months out from working with my beloved little ones but I'm glad to report that I'm now well enough to return to the work I truly love.

Looking back over the past twelve years I now know I've come a very long way from the person I was back then.  As well as dealing with the issue of my adoptive parents I can honestly say that I'm more at peace with myself now than I've ever been.  One area in which that is probably more noticeable is in my attitude towards my own body.  No longer do I feel I have to inflict injury on myself in order to make myself feel better.

One side-effect of the anti-depressant, Seroxat, is weight gain so combined with a total hysterectomy the result for me became a weight increase of three stone.  That didn't bother me too much as by then I'd begun to feel completely at home in my body and that was a really good feeling.  It still is.

During the writing of this book my adoptive father died suddenly in hospital.  Sadly I wasn't with him that night.  A few years earlier when he'd asked my forgiveness I gladly granted it to him and for some unknown reason immediately upon hearing of his death that awful night I once more repeated those words of pardon to him so as he would not leave this world with any sense of guilt on his mind.  I knew then how much I really loved him.

Almost a year after his death I was once again driven to find out more about my birth mother, the first time I'd done this was shortly after the death of my adoptive mother.  This time I was given the location of her grave and travelled alone to her home town on a beautiful May morning.

By a strange coincidence the graveyard was totally deserted as though I'd been specially allowed to have those precious few moments alone with my mother.  As soon as I stood by her grave I was overcome by a tremendous sense of loss which was as strong then as if I'd only just buried her.  I was grieving for her all over again.  Through my tears I told her I loved her and hoped she was with God in Heaven.  I then picked a bunch of wild flowers, put them in an old glass jar which lay close by and placed them by the headstone.

By another strange coincidence that day I came very close to finding out who my birth father was. Nothing has since come of that but the good thing is that I no longer feel the intense desire I always had to find him.  Perhaps having come so physically close to my mother, even if it was in death, was enough to prove to me the actual existence of at least one of my parents.  For some reason even though I always longed to know them I sometimes thought maybe they didn't really exist.  Now that I can visit my mother's grave from time to time it somehow makes me feel ordinary just like everyone else.

One last positive outcome of my own experience as a baby without much physical contact has been my deep understanding of the need to touch and be lovingly touched so when the opportunity to train as a Baby Massage Instructor presented itself I knew it felt so right for me.  Unfortunately I didn't get to do the course at the time but it's something I feel very committed to doing because I will then be able to use this skill to show the parents at my childens' hospital how to use the power of massage to help heal their babies.  I am so looking forward to this wonderful experience.

While life for me at the moment is good and I've a very positive outlook on things I'm still very much working through my process which I know in time will bring about the final healing I need to completely let go of the painful past.  It's been a long journey and one that I hope will inspire those who may just be starting out on their own personal journeys.  I wish them well.


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