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……