Valerie Austin - Self-Hypnosis

I t all began with the car accident, the night I almost diedthe extraordinary twist of fate that led me to become a hypnotherapist. I would never have believed at the time that there would be a time in the future when I would count the awful calamities and traumas I was to experience as blessings, allowing me to put something back into life in the form of helping people. If I had not had the car crash I would not have had to seek treatment for a serious memory loss and would never have been forced into discovering hypnotherapy as a profession in the first place. The fact that I did, albeit through a bizarre combination of circumstances, is why I am able to share my knowledge with you now. Let me tell you about it

The car was speeding through the pitch black night, hurtling crazily out of control. I had no way of knowing which direction it was taking. I was very frightened and convinced I was going to die. Moments earlier I had been travelling at high speed on the motorway when suddenly I was forced to swerve violently to avoid a fleeing figure running directly in front of me. It was 1.30 a.m. and there was not even the palest glimmer of moonlight. Why on earth was someone crossing the motorway on foot? Did they intend to kill themselves? How ironic if that were so, as that was precisely what I had been contemplatinga quick end to my life.

As I wrenched the steering wheel to avoid the ghostlike figure, the car skidded and lurched forward into the unknown, deep in the Staffordshire countryside. My headlights no longer picked out the friendly cats eyes and I was spinning wildly towards thick undergrowth at the roadside.

I remembered being scared once before when I was a private pilot and wanted to qualify for a licence to fly at night. Unthinkingly I had chosen an extremely busy airport from which to do the two hours necessary flying. I was suddenly queueing in line with jumbo jets and getting swirled around in their back-draught. But that experience paled in comparison to my terror now. At least then there had been landing lights, but here, in this horror, there was not even a moon to cast shadows. A jumble of confused thoughts and questions swirled in my mind as I was buffeted from side to side of the car like a limp rag doll. Each jolt sent a dull pain through my body. It was all happening in a few, fleeting moments yet it seemed like an eternity, as if I were watching myself in some ghastly, slow-motion video playback. Not long before I had actually been thinking about killing myself over a broken love affair. Now, in those terrifying moments as the car spun wildly out of control in the darkness, I knew I did not want to die. All I could think of was what would be the result once the car finally came to a halt. Would I be crippled or scarred for life? Would anybody find me so late at night, or would I have to die slowly, badly injured and alone? Had I been selfish? Was this my punishment? Would the nightmare ever end?

Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. The car shuddered to a halt. Later I learned that it had hit three trees and plunged 30 feet down a ravine. Amazingly, however, I had not hit my head against the windscreen. I can remember sitting there dazed and shaking, yet still being able to think with remarkable clarity. The cassette player was still blasting out disco music, shattering the stillness of the night. Somehow, the windscreen wipers had got switched on during the crash. In my numbed and dazed state I could not remember how to switch them off. I was also alert enough to realize that there might have been a petrol leak and that the car might explode at any moment.

As I slowly and painfully eased myself out of the door, I felt as if I was the star of my very own horror film. The whole thing was so eerie and unreal. I was still trying to work out why my head had not hit the windscreen. I had not been wearing a seatbeltthis was the 1970s and there were still conflicting views about themand the car had come to a dramatic stop. Later I learned that my head and face were the only parts of my body