Some Insights + Feelings From 7th Holotropic Workshop

7th Oct, ’95:
The image of the spider on the white garment could possibly be my first glimpse of the doctor’s hands delivering me, which at close range would resemble spiders’ legs, especially if the fingers were hairy.

Also, the white garment could again be my close-up, even if somewhat blurred, view of the doctor’s white gown as I was emerging from my mother’s vagina. I am certain these are yet more fleeting memories of my first moments of life outside the womb.

My immediate reaction to Lynn touching my neck was probably triggered by a memory where, either during or right after my delivery, someone’s hands held me under the back of my neck. It definitely feels like a birth memory.

9th Oct, ’95:
Very aware of all sounds, especially those relating to music. I’m picking up “in-between” notes that I’ve never noticed before in some of my favourite pieces of music.

10th Oct, ’95:
While glancing at the certificates on the wall in my therapist’s room, I finally recognised a small logo on one which, although having seen the certificate many times before, I could never quite distinguish what the little sign actually meant.

17th Oct, ’95:
This is probably my most profound insight to date:-

During my therapy session this morning I was expressing my distress at having gained a considerable amount of weight recently. As I was speaking, I became aware of the true fear behind my fear of gaining weight.

It isn’t only the fact that I feel I look dreadful when I’m a few pounds heavier, it’s really that whenever my body begins to take on the shape of an adult woman, I begin to feel so frightened, that I must at all cost, return to the safe confines of my small childlike body.

Secure within its skeletal walls, I feel that nothing great is expected of me, frailty exempting me from all responsibility, both towards myself and others. I am the little girl still craving love and attention, and most of all longing to be accepted as a normal member of society.

The painful truth is that none of these things ever happened in my case. No doubt I was cared for at some stage, and it is that period of my life that I’m subconsciously remembering and constantly needing to cling onto.

When I became a mother for the first time I felt so unable to cope with the huge demands of my tiny dependant baby. I was a helpless child trying to take care of an even more helpless child, and all along feeling that what I really needed was someone to take care of ME.

2nd Nov’95:
While having dinner, I suddenly had an image of a large dome-shaped glass vessel containing an embryo connected by its umbilical cord to the side of the glass. The colours were truly beautiful - red, purple, pink, blue, yellow. I desperately needed to get this image down on paper.

3rd Nov,’95:
Lots of ideas about my embryo. Wished that I could sculpture him from pottery clay or even play-doh. Needed to touch and comfort him.

Believed I originated from the Devil, carrying with me into this world, his original sin. Perhaps the pain and terror I experienced during my birth was my desperate struggle to free myself from his evil clutch.

4th Nov,’95:
Woke up out of a strange dream about a very distressed baby. Later on, needed to draw a screaming foetus expressing his anguish at trying to be born.