Some Insights + Feelings From 8th / 9th Holotropic Workshops

16th Nov, ’95:
While outside the shops this morning, met the leader of my local Writers’ Workshop, who informed me, that despite my previous regular attendance, she did not invite me to a Poetry Reading in our local pub, as she assumed I would not be returning to the group. To add insult to injury, she also told me that the other members suggested I should be invited. On the many occasions I’ve been speaking to her since my temporary departure from the group, I’ve always expressed my desire to return as soon as possible to the evening gatherings which I enjoyed so much.

Being excluded, brought back very strongly, all the old feelings of rejection, isolation and loneliness that were so much part of my earlier life.

The condition known as “Post-Natal Depression” probably does not really exist. It could well be a spiritual awakening, perhaps brought about by the birth process itself. For some women it can be characterised by profound changes in personality, resulting sometimes in extreme irrational thinking and behaviour.

Sadly, those close to someone in this state sometimes do not recognise it for what it probably is, and instead see it as a mental disorder which needs to be medically treated.

20th Nov, ’95:
Yet another image of a foetus in a glass container, only this time the glass is shattered. I even had a title for it, “Broken Home”, probably meaning my mother’s fragmented state of mind during her pregnancy, which would have left me feeling very insecure and vulnerable.

28th Nov, ’95:
Around 5.00am. came out of a dream thrashing about and screaming “fuck you” at someone. I was growling like an animal and very soon realised I had been reliving one of my sessions. I was very disturbed for quite some time afterwards.

29th Nov, ’95:
At around 7.00am. while I was still in bed, I suddenly went into a spontaneous altered state where I began pushing my body up towards the headboard. My hands were clawing at my face and neck and I was producing exactly the same sounds as those I make during my breathwork sessions.

Felt a strong need to return to bed around 10.00am. Shortly after lying down I began the same ritual that I’d gone through earlier on this morning. It was much more intense this time, with a lot of vigorous body movement along with some very loud howling. Afterwards I felt a tremendous sense of having completed something which hadn’t been quite dealt with before.

Rang Lynn to discuss my decision not to go ahead with the December session, as I felt a lot of stuff was still happening from the last one. She agreed I should go with what feels right for me.

30th Nov, ’95:
Dreamed I was in another session. We were all in the small room (which was much larger in the dream), waiting for everyone to arrive. We were sitting on the floor, with Lynn seated on a chair against the wall, something which she would not normally do. There were still two people yet to come, and one was named Angela (I’ve never met anyone by that name in the group so far). The session was to take place in this room and just when we were all ready to begin, I woke up.

3rd Jan, ’96:
My adoptive mother died this evening at 8.45pm.

11th Jan, ’96:
Returned to bed around 9.30am. Fell asleep. Woke up screaming, imagining myself as a snake slithering out from a long black tunnel. Was very disturbed for a long time afterwards.

27th Jan, ’96:
Horrific nightmare: “ Dreamed my mother’s body was being kept in our box-room upstairs. There was a nurse staying with us for some reason, something to do with Mum, I think.

Over a period of several nights, I thought I saw Mum’s body moving on the bed as I passed her door. I tried to pretend it was just my imagination. Then one night while I was in my bedroom talking with the nurse, I heard a movement on the landing outside. I sensed immediately it was Mum. She was coming to scare me just like she did when I was a kid. I froze, then screamed as an unearthly thud hit the door, almost taking it off its hinges. Now, paralysed with fear, my fingers did not have the strength to turn the key in its lock, but with help from the nurse, who was much stronger than me, we managed to hold the door closed against the evil force which was threatening both our lives now. It was not to be for long.

Mum was too strong for us as she pushed her ice-cold fingers through the wooden panels and started to claw at the back of my hand. The scratches were so deep, they were bleeding. She then stuck her fingers into the nurse’s eyes, causing them to also bleed profusely.

Half dead with terror, I recognised my mother’s howling and ranting as the sounds she would make when she was going crazy in our house when I was so young and helpless. Now she was going to kill me. I prayed I would die before I had to set eyes on that stinking decomposing body that was once my mother. Just before it seemed like she was finally breaking through to me, I mercifully woke up”.