27/04/2026
Excuse the hairdo.
I spent 90 minutes this morning being tortured by an optician like I was in some kind of black site detention facility, and it's reminded me exactly what I tell my clients about learning new skills - sometimes it's going to feel like it's going t**s up. You might feel awkward and like you’re failing spectacularly, but that's just part of getting better at it.
Bear with me on this.
I went for my first contact lens fitting today. Now, I've only been wearing glasses for about 12 years - started in my mid-40s when my arms suddenly weren't long enough to read a bloody menu. And now I'm so spectacularly long-sighted that I need them pretty much all the time, which is ironic as f**k because before I wore them, I always thought glasses made people look intelligent and sophisticated.
Turns out when YOU'RE the one wearing them constantly, they're just an annoying lump of plastic on your face that gets smeared with fingerprints and slides down your nose when you're trying to look professional.
So, contact lenses. Seemed like a good idea. Kev wears them and makes it look easy. "It's a walk in the park," he said. "You'll be fine."
Lying bastard.
The woman doing the fitting must have trained with MI5 or something, because I've never felt so physically dominated in a clinical setting. She practically had to pin me down like I was a feral cat at the vet. My blink reflex was so strong she could have used it to generate electricity for the building. I swear she had one foot braced on my upper lid, a crowbar wedging the lower one open, and was using her full body weight just to get the bloody things in.
Eventually she managed it, and they felt... weird. But fine. Ish. The optician explained my brain would need time to adjust to the varifocal lenses - seeing long distance in some areas and short distance in others, which I thought, yeah, okay, I can live with that. My brain's had to adjust to worse (hello menopause, my old friend…).
But THEN came the bit where I had to get them out myself.
Oh. My. God.
I was there for what felt like HOURS, jabbing at my own eyeballs like I was trying to dig for buried treasure in my face. Eyes streaming. Nose running like a tap. Making noises that probably concerned the people in the waiting room.
And about halfway through, I had that exact same feeling I had when I was in labour with my kids - that moment of absolute desperation where you think, "No. F**k this. I can't do this anymore. I'm done. Somebody ELSE needs to sort this out. Somebody else get this baby out because I AM NOT DOING THIS."
But just like with childbirth, there's no opting out if you want a result. I HAD to learn how to do it myself. They were MY eyeballs. MY problem. MY responsibility to stop being such a massive wuss and just get on with it.
So I did some breathing exercises (because I actually know this stuff - breathing activates your parasympathetic nervous system and stops you from having a full meltdown in an optician's chair), calmed myself down enough to stop sweating, and finally - FINALLY - got the first one out.
Then the other one.
Then I had to do it TWO MORE TIMES before they'd trust me not to be a danger to myself and let me leave with a trial pack.
By the third go, the daily disposables were getting properly manky and misshapen from all my fumbling, but I did it. And each time was marginally less traumatic than the last. Marginally.
I've got to put the sodding things in again tomorrow, which I'm absolutely dreading. But I'll do it, because I know the only way to get better at this is to actually DO it. There's no book I can read, no YouTube video I can watch, no amount of positive thinking that's going to make me magically competent at shoving plastic discs into my eyeballs. AI certainly can’t do it, and lens butlers don’t exist yet (but they should!). I've just got to practice until it stops feeling like self-harm and starts feeling vaguely normal.
Which brings me to what happened at a party the other day.
A woman asked what I do for work, and I told her about the hypnotherapy I do with business owners - helping with confidence, fear of failure, fear of success, the terror of sending invoices, relationship problems, the whole "I haven't seen my kids awake in three weeks" work-life balance nightmare, all that stuff.
"Oh," she said. "Sounds great, but I don't like the idea of giving up control to somebody else."
Right. So here's the thing I need to explain, because this comes up A LOT:
Clinical hypnotherapy is NOTHING like stage hypnosis where some bloke in a shiny waistcoat makes you cluck like a chicken while everyone laughs at you.
Clinical hypnotherapy is more like me teaching you how to look after your own thoughts, emotions and behaviours better YOURSELF.
The ultimate goal isn't that you need to see me forever (although if I like you I’m sure I wouldn't mind). It's that I teach you some techniques you can go away and use yourself. It's a skill. Something you learn.
And just like my contact lens torture session this morning, it might feel awkward and clunky and uncomfortable at first. You might feel like you're doing it wrong. You might want to give up halfway through and get someone else to sort it out for you.
But with practice, it becomes more natural. More fluid. More like something you can actually do without wanting to cry.
Some of my clients take to hypnotherapy and self-hypnosis techniques straight away. They love the journaling, the self-reflection, all of it. It clicks immediately and off they go.
Others find certain things tricky and uncomfortable at first. They feel a bit daft. They're not sure they're "doing it right." They want me to just fix them instead.
And I say to them what I'm saying to myself about these bloody contact lenses: the only way you actually get better at this is to DO it. We can talk theory all you want, but until you go out and practice some of this stuff in the real world, you won't improve.
The difference is, I'm there to guide you through it. To help you find your own techniques. To teach you how to manage your own mind better so you can run your business without feeling like you're constantly drowning.
Not to control you. To help you control yourself.
Which, let's be honest, is a hell of a lot more useful than me waving my hands around and making you feel better for an hour before you go back to the same old patterns.
If you're curious about how hypnotherapy or coaching (or a bit of both) could help you with whatever you're struggling with in your business (or life), just reply to this email, drop me a DM on LinkedIn, or if you're seeing this on Facebook (where my messages are disabled because Zuckerberg hates me), just reply in the comments.
P.S. Seriously, if you've got business issues that are doing your head in and you're curious about whether this approach could help, get in touch and let's have a chat. I promise I won't poke you in the eye.