! The wine swooshed around the glass as she brought it to her soft lips. The cigarette ash making a pile on the bar counter. The pub was dark, there was a dank smell of barley and hops in the air. She looked around and saw the same wrinkled, grim faces, dimmed by the dancing shadows. The gritty panels telling their ancient story of centuries past. As she drew hard on the cigarette, her eyes closed, her head spinning. The yellow stains on her fingernails masked by the burgundy nail polish as she forcefully pushed the butt down onto the counter. The red ember slowly faded and was gone, smoke billowing in front of her. She had reached her limit hours ago. Her throat felt dry, sore, so dry......suddenly her head slumped forward and everything turned black.! A mirage drifted out there in the distance. She rubbed her eyes, but still the mirage didn’t fade. What was this place? In the blink of an eye everything changed, everything was white; the tiles and the walls - they were bright, bright white. It hurt her eyes. As she placed her arm over her brow a voice boomed, “Do you know why are you here, Anya?”. Startled she turned around to see who was there. No one. “Do you know why are you here, Anya?” boomed the voice again. She ran to the corner of the room. The walls were transparent her hands and body melding with it. She wanted to get away, away from this place that was perfectly white, she began to run as fast as she could. She ran and ran and ran. The more she ran the whiter it became. She ran so hard she began to cough. She stopped to catch her breath. As she looked around the room was exactly the same. The same walls and tiles. White.“You won’t be able to get away!” boomed the voice again. It was louder than before. It was a beautiful, sweet, neutral voice. One that made you sit up when you heard it. With a shudder gritty tears began to roll down her face. A mirror popped up in front of her. Anya looked at the image reflected back to her, the tears were marked with tiny particles of mud. Her eyes bloodshot, with sagging bags beneath them. A deep sadness enveloped her whole being. And the tears gushed once again. The particles of mud running down her boney cheeks. In disbelief and anger

she tried to push the mirror aside but it didn’t move. The mirror began to change. It wasn’t a two dimensional object anymore. It had depth. She defocused her eyes and began to see images. At first the images where fuzzy. They didn’t make any sense. Then she let go and allowed the images to come as they may. Snippets of a young woman took shape, a beautiful young woman. The images moved quickly through her life. Then something happened. Everything stopped. It became dull, gloomy and dark. The pictures were moving slower now. The woman was middle-aged and alone. That sadness enveloped Anya again and the tears began to fall. She saw how tragedy after tragedy had brought this beautiful woman to a dark place. A place with no solace, no support and her life began to spiral out of control. She had loved and lost and lost and loved, she was broken, was spent. As the tears turned to sobs Anya’s knees gave way and she fell to the floor in a dusty heap. There was a cool, wetness about her legs. Touching them she saw the floor was no longer white it was covered in that gritty, mud. As Anya lay in the mud, looking down at her frame, it was small, fragile and dirty. “Go to the table behind you,” the voice was soft now. Almost childlike. She looked behind her and there standing in the corner was a crystal table. There seemed to be nothing on top of the table - it was empty. Hauling herself up, she walked limply to the table. The closer she got the more the table shimmered. Glints of golden flecks sparkled as the light filtered through the opaque crystals. Peering over it a tiny book appeared, a few inches tall. It was embedded inside. Touching the cool crystalline tabletop, she tried to force her hand through but it didn’t work. Anya wanted the book. This feeling overwhelmed her. It was bigger than her. I want that book! Turning to the mirror, Anya looked deeply into it and let out a screech of despair. She felt her knees give way and everything was black. She tried to open her eyes but they were sealed shut. She could still see the middle-aged woman in her minds eye, she could feel her pain. Anya could feel her. She took a deep breath and said,”I think I know you, I think we met before.” The middle-aged woman turned to look at her. A deep sense of knowing flooded her body and she realized it was her, it was Anya, she had been looking at herself all along. Her knees gave way and she was surrounded by the bright, whiteness again. The crystal table glowing brighter now. Much brighter. Looking at the mirror it was still suspended

in mid-air, the same dark images filtering through it like a broken record. Suddenly, it dawned on her.“I know now. I have allowed myself to create this fetid reality, this life of self-doubt, self-hate and self destruction. I am in charge of my life, my behavior and my destiny. I need to choose, I need to choose”. A faint sound came from the crystal table, it was hardly audible, but it drew her attention. A tiny door appeared on the top of the table. Her gaze moved to the mirror. The image had changed, a beautiful, crystalline, flowing waterfall filled it. The pool of gritty, mud on the white floor began to dissipate, closing in on itself, becoming smaller and smaller... until it vanished. She turned to the crystal table, the door had flung open, within it the book shimmered. Placing her hand inside she tried to grasp the book but it was stuck. Her hand tingled. Taking a breath and closing her eyes Anya imagined the life she really wanted. The middle-aged woman cleaning house, exploring herself and tasting the sweet nectar of life. For where there is upheaval there is also growth, where there is growth, there is space for joy and freedom. Opening her eyes, her tingling hand freed the book! Upon it’s crystalline surface in golden thread was written “Go inside and be yourself.”! Suddenly, she felt herself tumbling, tumbling through space and time. Psychedelic colors surrounding her. Her body moved rapidly through a tunnel. Then it stopped. Opening her eyes, she found herself in a room. A sterile room, lying on a hard, steel bed frame, the sheets were an off white. The beeping machines showed images of her heart beat, cords from her body giving the machine it’s wave form output. Looking into the mirror on the wall ahead she said, “I want to let go of those limiting beliefs, those things that I made up about myself because others said that is what they saw. I am not those things, I am a beautiful, magnificent and powerful woman. I know that my life is worth more than this. I know that I am like an unpolished diamond. I know I have allowed myself to become consumed by the expectations, judgements and projections of others. That is not me. I am going to go inside and find out who I am. I am going to go inside and become. I am going to go inside and be myself”.

Anya is Gabrielle, Paul, John, Martha, Jane....she is you, she is me, she is us.

Author: Chiara Marrapodi is a Certified Clinical Hypnotherapist with offices in San Diego and Los Angeles. She helps individuals find their barriers to positive change and specializes in Work-Thrive Balance, weight loss, self-esteem, past life regression, caregiver exhaustion and pre-post surgery. You can contact her at

hypnotherapist@dancesoulhypnotherapy.com or her website www.dancesoulhypnotherapy.com.