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“I’m just going to play some music and sit here on the sofa with you, guiding you through the journey. We’ll be speaking to your subconscious, but your conscious will still be here. So, if at any point you need to intervene, let me know, okay?”
Reeva had no idea what any of that meant. “Uh, okay. And how long will it all take?”
“Anywhere from an hour to a couple of hours. I’m in no rush, so we’ll just see how it goes. We’ll work through the specific memory you’ve told me about, and all you need to do is answer without thinking, okay? That way, you’re letting your subconscious speak—not your normal rational mind.”
Reeva nodded nervously. She’d already given Marissa the SparkNotes version of her alopecia-related issues. Now all she needed to do was let her subconscious—whatever that was—give its own version.
“Right then, honey, you’ve got your water ready? Now get nice and comfortable on the sofa. Yes, lovely, use those cushions and that blanket. And let’s begin...”
Reeva let herself sink into the cushions and unwind as Marissa’s calm voice—accompanied by soothing spa music—guided her into a state of relaxation. She was aware of everything Marissa was saying (“Let your muscles loosen... Sink deep down into your heart... Let your mind stop working”) but it all felt like background noise. Her focus was on how good her body felt right now. Calm. Loose. Relaxed. All the crying must have helped too—her muscles felt less tense now that she’d spent all morning sobbing out the sadness.
“Good. Now take yourself back to where you were at the timeof the memory you want to work on. Just imagine your younger self there—little Reeva watching your parents argue. And tell me how you feel.”
With her eyes closed, Reeva saw her parents materialize in front of her at the top of the stairs. A young Saraswati, whose face still moved. Shouting at a young, drunk Hemant, whose face was contorted in anger. Reeva felt a chill run through her body. When she spoke, it was as if she was on autopilot. “I’m sad. Scared. Anxious.”
“Can you attach a color to your emotions?” asked Marissa. “And tell me where it is inside your body?”
“I... have dark blue in me? In my heart. It’s indigo. Is that... Am I... doing it right?”
“Perfectly. You don’t need to question it, Reeva—just keep answering without thinking. And your parents. What color are they?”
“They’re both sad. My mum is... blue. Like the whole of her! Her entire body is indigo. And Dad is... dark red.” Tears started streaming down Reeva’s face. “They’re both yelling. I’m so scared.”
“Okay, well, let’s get you some support. Why don’t you—adult Reeva—go and join little Reeva. Stand next to her. Is there anything you’d like to say to her?”
Reeva was still crying, but she calmed down as she visualized an adult version of herself standing next to her younger self. “I... I want to tell her that it’s not her fault. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Good,” said Marissa. “You can tell her now. Anything you want.”
“It’s not your fault, baby,” whispered Reeva. “You have done absolutely nothing wrong. You are perfect. I love you. You’re safe. I’ll take care of you.”
“Tell her how much you’ve taken care of her—in the future.”
Reeva nodded. “I’ve made you a lovely, safe life. You’re so loved. We’re so safe. We have our own money. Our own home. Another cat. We’re safe and we don’t have to ever be with crazy people again. We have each other.”
“That’s beautiful. How is young Reeva now?”
Reeva took a moment before she replied. “She’s not crying now. She seems a bit better.”
“Can you give her some of your strengths—your current powers or tools—to help her in this situation? And maybe help create a different outcome from before?”
Reeva saw her adult self giving her child self a big hug. A warmth spread into little Reeva and the fear faded. She smiled. “I’ve given her some confidence. And resilience. She’s... not so scared anymore.”
“Wonderful. And has little Reeva still got dark blue in her heart?”
“Yes. But there’s... there’s green there now too! More green than blue.”
“Can little Reeva use this green feeling to talk to her parents? Is there anything she can say to them?”
Reeva frowned. “Okay. Yeah. She’s telling them not to feel guilty. That it’s not their fault. She’s pressing her hand against each of them and giving them some of the green feeling. And they’re listening and not shouting. Little Reeva’s walking away. She’s walking down the stairs with Catty in her arms—she’s not falling. She’s okay!” Tears streamed down Reeva’s face again. But she didn’t feel sad this time. She felt lighter. Happier. Safe. “She’s safe. She didn’t fall down the stairs. She’s okay.”
“You’re so safe, my darling,” said Marissa. “You have this wonderful green feeling in you. Everything is okay. You are okay.Now. You have a choice. Do you want to just accept this little bit of blue inside you? Or do you want to work through it and turn it to green?”
Reeva felt her inner perfectionist desperate to work through the blue. But then she remembered she didn’t have to always take the hard path; she could honor her progress and rest.
As if she could hear Reeva’s thoughts, Marissa said, “You don’t have to do it. There’s no pressure. You can take the green feeling and let this small bit of blue be a reminder to you of what you’ve been through—a souvenir of your travels. Or you can keep going on this journey with me and transform all the blue into green.”
Reeva let her subconscious answer for her. “I’m actually okay. With the bit of blue. It’s... not so sad now. It feels stronger.”
