#3: “The Night I Finally Surrendered”
I don’t even know how to start this entry. Maybe by admitting something I’ve been too scared to say out loud: last night felt like the first time I actually became me.
I’d been circling around hypnosis for months, downloading tracks, reading other people’s experiences, always telling myself I wasn’t ready. Sometimes I’d hit play, but my mind would resist. I’d analyze every word, judge the voice, keep one foot out the door so I wouldn’t “fall for it.”
But last night was different.
I slipped under the covers, dimmed the lights, and put my headphones on. The file I chose wasn’t harsh or commanding, it was soft, almost lullaby-like. The voice kept repeating: relax deeper, let go, you’re safe. At first, my brain screamed back: don’t give in, you’ll lose control. But then something strange happened. Instead of fighting, I whispered, maybe that’s okay.
My chest loosened. My body went heavy. And before I knew it, I was drifting.
She asked me to imagine myself standing in front of a vanity mirror. My reflection wasn’t the usual tired face I see every morning, it was gentler, glowing, feminine. I could almost feel the cool brush of mascara across my lashes, the smooth tug of lip gloss shining my mouth. My stomach fluttered like butterflies had been hiding there all along, waiting to be freed.
When she whispered, good girl, I felt my throat tighten. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I’ve carried that phrase for years, tucked away as something shameful, something I thought only existed in fantasies. But hearing it spoken aloud, while I was so open and vulnerable, it didn’t feel shameful. It felt like someone had finally unlocked the language of who I am.
I don’t remember every word, but I remember the warmth. It was like being wrapped in a blanket that fit my soul. At some point, I realized I was smiling, soft, small, innocent. I hadn’t smiled at myself like that in years.
When I came out of it, the track fading back into silence, I didn’t rush to analyze it. I didn’t feel panic. I just lay there, cheeks damp, hands clutching the sheets, whispering thank you to no one in particular.
Today, the world looks the same. My body hasn’t magically changed. I didn’t wake up in lipstick or a dress. But inside? Something shifted. I’m not pretending anymore. I’m not laughing off the word sissy like it’s just a dirty joke. I’m holding it gently, like a name I’m still learning how to wear.
This isn’t the end of my story, it’s the beginning. Last night, for the first time, I surrendered. And it didn’t break me. It made me whole.