This is my journal entry from September 2, 2025, part of my daily autobiography The Kind Divorce — my real, unedited days, published in order.
My life coach gave me a remarkable hypnotherapy and life coaching session today. I arrived at her house at 1 p.m., and we began by sharing tea while she asked me about my goals. I told her that my primary aim was to help my mind accept, enjoy, and even play with the thoughts it generates. I no longer want to battle with my mind or weigh myself down with shame over my inner life. Whatever passing thought my mind generates, I want to meet it without judgment. I trust myself to choose actions that respect and consider others, which means there is no reason to feel guilty about what arises in my imagination. I asked my life coach to help me clear any lingering resistance to this acceptance and to reprogram the old codes still running in my subconscious.
She led me into a regression exercise, guiding me back to one of the most painful times in my life. We returned to when I was about eight years old. My father had caught me lying and decided that I needed to be broken of my rebellion. He spanked me, shut me in my room indefinitely, and made me write lines, one of which was “obedience to obey.” That period might have only lasted a week or two, yet it felt endless. I have never again been as lonely, sad, or hopeless as I was during those days. My life coach asked me first to anchor in a vision of joy from my life now. I imagined myself surrounded by my family and friends on a tennis court, with a massage table nearby and my books stacked at the edge of the scene. Then she guided me back into that childhood memory, where I relived the suffocating isolation of being locked away with no comfort, no distractions, and certainly no alcohol yet to numb the pain.
My life coach encouraged me to paint over that memory with colors of my choosing, and I filled it with rainbows. As I lay on her table, I let out a deep cry. The most powerful part came when I imagined myself now, at the same age my father had been during that time, arriving with my ex-wife and our children to talk with him. I did not confront him harshly but instead offered a gentle perspective: there are other ways to handle a rebellious child. A parent doesn’t have to break a child into blind obedience. You can honor a child’s spirit, appreciate their boldness, and even play with their rebelliousness instead of crushing it. In this vision, I hugged my younger self and showed him what life would one day become.
My eight-year-old self was amazed. Compared to the narrow world he knew at my parents’ house, my adult life looked like pure fantasy: a home filled with love, books, family, and meaningful work. All the struggles that consumed him would be resolved, replaced with joy and purpose. He saw my son at nearly his age, which gave him hope and pride. The scene expanded further. I pictured my father’s father, my mother, and my grandmother all joining us in that space. Then, decades into the future, I imagined my own son coming with his wife and children. Soon the living room of my childhood home was crowded with love, joy, and understanding spanning generations. Again, I wept as the image unfolded. My life coach told me that everyone cries during this exercise, and I understood why.
The experience with her was sacred. Her compassion, rooted in her own struggles and healing, created a safe space for mine. I left grateful to have done this work just before starting massage school, trusting it would make my experience there richer and healthier.
If you connect with how I live and think, you can follow the rest of my days on YouTube in my Life playlist.