For about 10 years, I saw a psychiatrist. She was brilliant and kind, and she changed my life in a lot of important ways.
And yet, I still had a bully in my head who called me a “dumb, lazy, pathetic piece of shit” whenever I sat down to write. (Also when I bought doughnuts.) No amount of insight, it seemed, could silence this inner bastard, with his long, sharp knives and colorful array of insults. Then, about six months ago, I ran into a friend who told me he’d recently quit smoking. For 20 years, he’d been a pack-a-day smoker, but after three sessions with a hypnotist named Melissa Tiers, he’d quit cold turkey.
“What else can she cure?” I asked.
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