Hypnotism is often associated with TV stunts and embarrassing antics. However, as Nicky Woolf discovers, it is increasingly becoming a legitimate form of therapy

“That was extremely…”, I say, and then stop, because I can’t work out whether anything just happened or not, let alone what it might have been. It wasn’t snap-and-you’re-out, as parodied on TV programmes, and it certainly did not involve a swinging stopwatch. But neither did it feel like nothing. There is a long, pregnant pause, and then I catch up with myself, “It was like I was hovering on the edge of sleep.” There had been soothing music, and a soothing voice, and my head had felt heavier and heavier. I’m not sure I went out cold – though how can I be sure? – but my memory of being in the hypnotic trance is fuzzy at best.

The next voice is the hypnotist’s. “Yes, that’s what you are - just on the edge of sleep. That’s the hypnogogic, or trance, state.” Earlier, before the hypnosis, she had explained the process of putting me into a trance. Apparently, it is simply a case of activating drowsiness ‘triggers’ in the brain. Valerie summarised: “Basically, I bore you rigid - I just drone on and on and on until your conscious mind says ‘Jigger this for a game of soldiers, I’m off.’” Intrigued, I ask how I would respond when ‘under’. Her reply was enigmatic. “Some people go to sleep, some people don’t; some people can hear me, some people don’t. A first session is interesting, because you never know what to expect.”

‘It was similar to when you leave the dentist exploring a new filling with your tongue; that same feeling that something unnatural is going on’

I, for one, hadn’t a clue what manner of experience awaited me. Valerie Hird is a professional hypnotist working in York, whose clients include students wanting to work harder, teachers wanting to reduce stress and professionals wanting to give up smoking. Hypnotism is big business, ranging from stage and television hypnotists, such as Paul McKenna, to forensic hypnosis; where a hypnotist helps a crime witness remember salient facts. It is certainly no longer a two-bit smoke, mirrors and crystal ball operation. Valerie has undergone years of training to become a fully-fledged hypnotherapist, and is also a trained counsellor. When I ask what she finds herself most frequently treating, Valerie tells me that far and away the most frequent problem her clients need help with is smoking. Phobias, such as a fear of flying (or, as in a recent case, a fear of flour) come a close second. I enquire as to her success rate and she smiles broadly, “Very good, oh very good indeed. Almost all my clients come to me via recommendations.” Expecting the re-routing of mental pathways to be at best a lengthy and arduous process, I am stunned when she tells me she needs only one session for most of her clients to give up smoking for good.

Hypnosis as a phenomenon that first appeared in ancient India used by Hindu priests to heal their sick - though it is not known how successful they were. Today’s modern form of scientific and therepeutic hypnosis first emerged in the early 19th century. A French physician called Recamier successfully performed the first recorded medical operation, most likely an amputation, on a patient in a trance-like state in 1821. Freud was a fan of hypnotism, and attended the First International Congress for Experimental and Therapeutic Hypnotism in 1889. It was not until the late 1950s, however, that the British and American medical associations approved hypnosis as a viable and acceptable form of treatment.

This did not, however, stop me from feeling a touch nervous. I am about to let someone root around in the darkest depths of my subconscious and, if possible, make some measured adjustments. But what adjustments? Being a non-smoker, the obvious option was denied to me.

Where to begin? What, when given the choice, would you change about yourself - about your personality, your mind? What foibles would you have erased, what habits would you modify? I found these decidedly difficult questions to answer. After much self-examination, I sought help, vocalising these questions to some friends. The answers I received were, predictably, less than helpful and in several cases a little insulting. At about this time I began to see a problem emerging. Hypnosis requires an exertion of will on my part as well as on the hypnotist’s; basically, I have to want to give something up before I can be hypnotised to give it up.

After much soul-searching, I lighted on the idea of giving up, or at least cutting down on, my swearing. Swearing was, I decided, something that I would like to do less; and furthermore, for the purposes of good journalism, it would be fairly easy to determine whether the hypnosis had been successful. It was therefore with vision and clarity of purpose that I approached my appointment with Valerie.

Arriving at a normal-looking house on a street somewhere the other side of Fulford, clutching my Dictaphone, I had absolutely no idea what to expect. I certainly did not expect the friendly, motherly, altogether down-to-earth woman who opened the door; nor her willingness to talk me through the process. We chatted about hypnosis in the media. She was keen to stress that her method is a different one to Paul McKenna’s, but none the less effective. She is both a hypnotist and a counsellor, and ranks very highly indeed among British hypnotists. We discuss what I want to have changed; she approves of my choice and reassures me that the process is a simple one. Then she reaches over to her computer and puts on a specially-recorded looping track of calm, melodic keyboard music, and begins to murmur - and that’s when things get a little blurry.

On my way home, feeling distinctly odd, I kept probing my mind to see if I felt any different - thinking a swear word, and gauging my mind’s reaction. It was very similar to when you leave the dentist exploring a new filling with your tongue; that same slight feeling that something unnatural was going on. I didn’t swear at all that evening, but then I didn’t really have any cause to. I did swear the next day, casually for emphasis in conversation; but it felt somehow unacceptable, like I was letting myself down. It was not a pleasant feeling, and it did make me think twice about swearing after that. I also noticed more when others swore. My dilemma was this; was I feeling the effects of hypnosis, or was the effect purely caused by my desire not to ‘fail’? Was I trying to make the hypnosis work, and if that was the case, is that all hypnosis actually is? As weeks passed, I swore more; occasionally at first, but after a month or so I was almost, but not quite, back to my usual self, obscenity-wise anyway.

I don’t think this can be called a failure of hypnosis, though. I can honestly say that I did feel an effect, whether actual or self-inflicted (if such a distinction even matters), and I truly believe that had my will to stop been greater, say if I really, really wanted to give up smoking, then Valerie’s help would have been very valuable indeed, and I would recommend hypnosis as an alternative for those trying to give up.

What did I gain from the experience? Well, I still do notice swearing more, and I’m almost sure that it takes less of an effort of will not to swear. I also lost a lot of my preconceptions about hypnosis. I was impressed by the professionalism of it all, and the openness of method. Even if the results were not particularly dramatic, there was certainly an effect. Would I do it again? Yes, I think I probably would, especially as Valerie said that she would give a 25 per cent discount to students. Chalk me up as a partial convert then.

Related posts:

• Crash and burn on freshers week: the alternative guide for students
• A guide to avoiding campus ‘unbearables’
• Getting ahead: your guide to work experience
• Hitchhikers guide to the blogiverse
• Your guide to sport at university