Sleep Hypnosis For Anxiety - Calm Your Mind & Feel Safe

0:06 If your mind has been busy with worry lately, if your chest has felt tight and your thoughts have been running ahead of you into tomorrow, then this hour is for you. This is a guided sleep hypnosis for anxiety. Please listen at bedtime, lying down in a safe place. and never in the car, or while you are doing something that needs you alert. Hypnosis is simply a deep, focused kind of relaxation. You stay in charge the whole time.

0:48 You can move, or open your eyes, or stop listening whenever you like. And it is not a treatment. If anxiety is part of your everyday life, please talk to a doctor or a counselor too. You deserve that support. For now, let yourself settle. Let the bed carry you. Let the pillow cradle your head. Shift a little if you need to until your body feels at ease. And when you are ready, let your eyes close. Tonight, let a lighthouse appear in your mind. It stands at the far end of a small, rocky island, a long way out from the mainland. A tall, round, white tower, a little weathered by the salt air, with a black iron balcony running around the top, and above it, behind thick glass, the great lamp. It has stood there for more than

2:29 150 years. Storms have broken against it. Winter gales have howled around it. Waves have thrown spray all the way up to the windows. And through all of it, the lighthouse has simply stood there and kept its light turning. Tonight, there is no storm. The sea around the island is calm, rolling in slowly against the rocks below the tower, and drawing back, and rolling in again. The air is soft and cool. The sky is clear, full of stars. And you are inside the lighthouse near the very top in the small round room just below the lamp where the keepers used to rest between their watches. To reach it, you came along the narrow path from the little stone jetty, past the old keeper's cottages with their white walls and

4:01 their dark slate roofs, and up the spiral of the tower. Out on the rocks, the seabirds are asleep in rows, their heads tucked under their wings. Down in the cottages, every window is dark. It is a cozy room. The walls curve all the way around you, painted a soft cream color. There is a narrow bed against the wall with a thick wool blanket, and you are lying in it.

4:46 There is a small round window beside the bed, and through it you can see the dark sea and the stars. Above your head, through the ceiling, you can hear the faint, steady hum of the great lamp turning, slow and patient, never hurrying, never stopping. And every few seconds, as it comes around, A soft wash of light sweeps past the little window, across the sea, and away into the night.

5:59 Notice how far away everything else seems from here. The mainland is only a faint line of distant lights on the horizon. Whatever was happening there today, whatever you were worrying about, is all a very long way off across the water. Out here, there is only the tower, the sea. and the patient circling of the lamp. Let us begin with the breath. Draw the air in slowly through your nose As if you were tasting the cool, clean sea air.

7:13 And release it, unhurried, through your lips. Again, fill up gently. and empty out, taking a little more time than you took to fill. When we are anxious, the breath often rises up into the top of the chest, quick and shallow, as if the body were getting ready to run. A longer breath out sends a different message. It tells the body That there is nothing to run from right now.

8:08 That it is safe to slow down. One more time. Breathe in. And breathe out slowly all the way. like a wave drawing back from the shore. Now leave the breath to find its own pace. It knows how. Listen to the sea for a moment. The slow arrival of each wave against the rocks below. The pause. The long, soft hiss as it slides back. The sea has been breathing like this for a very long time. You can let your breath follow it, if you like. In as the wave comes in. Out as it draws back. Now bring your attention to the light. Even with your eyes closed, you can imagine it, the great lamp above you turning slowly, sending out its long, pale beam across the water. Every few seconds, it comes round again and sweeps past the

10:30 window and moves on. Each time the light passes, you can let yourself relax a little more. You do not need to try, just let the passing of the light be a reminder. Softer, a little softer, a little more settled. As the light passes now, let it rest for a moment on your forehead. A warm, gentle light smoothing away any tightness there. The frown loosens. The brow becomes wide and calm. And as it comes round again, let it pass over your eyes. Your eyelids grow heavy and comfortable.

11:53 So heavy that they would rather stay closed. There's nothing you need to see right now. Next time it comes round, let it pass across your jaw. Anxiety often hides in the jaw, in the clenched teeth, in the tight muscles at the hinge. Let them soften. Let your teeth part a little. Let your tongue rest. Now let the light sweep across your shoulders. So many of us carry our worries here, lifted up towards the ears, braced and ready.

12:54 As the light passes, let them drop, down and away from the ears, wide and heavy and loose. And now let it pass over your chest. This is where anxiety so often lives. A tightness. A fluttering. A sense of something pressing. You do not have to make it disappear. Just let the warm light rest there for a moment as it passes. And notice whether the chest can soften around that feeling. Even a little. Giving it more room.

14:02 Let the light pass over your belly. Let the belly be soft. Let it rise and fall with your breath, easily, the way the sea rises and falls against the rocks. and down through your hips and your legs, all the way to your feet. Each time the light comes round, your body grows a little heavier, a little warmer, a little more still. The light keeps turning. You do not need to keep it turning. It does that on its own, as it has every night for 150 years. All you need to do is lie here and let it pass, and let go a little more each time. I am going to count the next 10 sweeps of the light.

15:45 With each number, you can let yourself drift 10% deeper into relaxation. By the time I reach 10, you will be resting very deeply indeed, and it will feel completely natural and completely safe. 1. The light passes and you let go. 2. Heavier in the bed. 3. The breath slowing. Four, further and further from the shore. Five, halfway, deeply relaxed.

17:25 the sea rolling in below. 7. Softer and deeper. 8. Every muscle at rest.

18:10 Nine.

18:11 Almost there.

18:12 10.

18:28 Deeply, comfortably relaxed. Just rest here for a while, listening to the sea and letting the light pass by. Notice your eyelids now, how heavy they have become, as if each sweep of the light has laid another soft, invisible weight upon them. They are resting so comfortably that they simply would not want to open, and the heavier they feel, the deeper you can go. and notice how that heaviness is beginning to spread, from the eyelids, across the cheeks, down into the jaw and the neck, down into the shoulders, a pleasant, heavy, drowsy feeling, flowing slowly down through the body, like warm water filling a bath. Let it flow all the way down, into the arms, into the chest, into the legs, all the way to the toes. You might

21:05 notice that your mind has grown quieter, or perhaps it is still busy with thoughts coming and going. Either way is fine. Thoughts are like the beam of the lighthouse. They pass across the dark water and move on. You do not need to follow them out to sea. You can let them sweep past and stay right here in the warm, round room. in the tower that does not move.

22:00 In a moment, we are going to go down the stairs of the lighthouse together. From the little room at the top, a staircase winds down through the middle of the tower, around and around, in a gentle spiral, all the way to the bottom. The steps are old stone, worn smooth and slightly hollowed in the middle, by more than a century of keepers' footsteps. There's a smooth brass handrail, cool under your hand, and all the way down, set into the curving wall, are small lamps, glowing softly amber, lighting the way. At the bottom of the stairs is the Keeper's Quarters, the warmest, safest room in the whole lighthouse, built into the thick stone of the base, where the walls are many feet thick and nothing from outside can

23:15 reach you. There are 20 steps between here and there, I will count them for you from 20 down to 1. With each step down, you can let yourself sink deeper into calm, deeper into rest. You do not need to hurry. Each step is wide and solid and safe.

23:46 20.

24:00 Stepping down onto the first step, the stone cool and smooth beneath you.

24:05 19.

24:17 Your hand sliding down the brass rail.

24:20 18.

24:32 Going around the gentle curve of the tower.

24:45 17.

24:46 Deeper and calmer. 16. The sound of the sea growing softer, muffled by the thick walls.

25:17 15.

25:18 Passing a small lamp in the wall, its warm light on the stone.

25:23 14.

25:36 Each step letting go of a little more tension.

25:39 13.

25:50 Around and down. Twelve, heavier and more relaxed. Eleven, almost halfway now.

26:23 10.

26:37 Halfway down, deeply calm. 9. The air growing warmer. Eight, you're breathing slow and easy. Seven, down and around. Six, deeper still. Five, nearly at the bottom. Four, calm and safe. Three, so deeply relaxed. Two. One more step.

29:02 And one.

29:03 Stepping off the last step onto the warm wooden floor of the keeper's room. Look around you. It is a round room, like the one at the top, but wider and warmer. A small iron stove glows in the corner, and the air smells faintly of wood smoke and old books and the sea. There's a deep armchair beside the stove, with a blanket folded over the arm. There is a table with a lamp on it, and a thick leather book lying open. There's a single deep window set into the stone, looking out over the dark water. Sink down into the armchair. Draw the folded blanket across your lap.

30:29 Let the stove's glow warm your face and your open hands. Here, in the base of the tower, behind walls of solid stone, you are completely safe. Nothing outside can reach you here. not the wind, not the waves, and not the worries of the day. They are all out there, beyond the walls, beyond the water. Notice how it feels to be completely safe, Perhaps it is a feeling you have not had for a while. Let yourself have it now. Let it soak into you, the way the warmth of the stove soaks into your hands. Safe. Warm. Held by the stone. On the table beside you lies the keeper's book. For more than a hundred years, every keeper who lived here wrote in books like this one. Every night, on their watch, they looked out over the sea and wrote down what

33:15 they saw. The weather, the wind, the state of the sea. And every ship that passed, a fishing boat at dusk, a cargo ship far out on the horizon, a small sailing boat caught out in the dark, finding its way home by the light. The keepers did not try to control the ships. They could not steer them or stop them or send them away. They simply watched them and noted them down and kept the light turning so that every ship could see the rocks and find its way safely past. Tonight, you can keep the watch in the same way. Imagine looking out through the deep window at the dark sea and imagine that the things that have been worrying you lately are out there on the water.

34:46 Each worry is a small boat with a little light of its own. moving across the dark. You might see one now, a worry about work, perhaps, or bills, or your body, or a person you care about, or something you said or did not say. Whatever it is, let it be a small boat, out on the water, A long way from the tower. Notice it. The way a keeper would. Calmly. From a distance. You do not need to row out to it. You do not need to solve it tonight. You only need to see it. and let the light find it. And then, in the book, you can make a small note, just a few words, boat scene, light on, all is well. Watch it move on across the water, slowly, following the light safely past the rocks, towards the harbour on the mainland. Perhaps there

37:02 is another, another small light on the water, another thing that has been on your mind. Notice it. Let the beam pass over it and make your note in the book, boat scene. Light on. All is well. And let it go on its way. You might notice something as you keep this watch. The boats are real, the worries are real, but they are out there, on the water, and you are in here, in the tower. They are something you can see, not something you are. A lighthouse is not a ship. It is never asked to sail into the storm.

38:32 Its strength is that it stays where it is and keeps shining, You can be like the lighthouse. Steady, rooted in the rock, letting the weather come and go around you, letting the waves break against you and fall back and break and fall back while you stay exactly where you are. When anxiety comes, it often feels like a wave. It rises up quickly. It feels huge. It feels as if it will knock you over. But every wave, however large, reaches its highest point and breaks and slides back into the sea. Every single one. That is what waves do.

40:18 Listen to the waves below the tower now, rising, breaking, sliding back. The next time you feel a wave of anxiety rising, you can remember this. You can remember the tower standing on the rock and the wave rising and breaking and sliding back. You can breathe out slowly the long out-breath of a wave drawing back from the shore and wait for it to pass. Because it will pass.

41:07 It always does. And as you rest here, you can let some new thoughts settle into you quietly, the way the warmth of the stove settles into the room. I can be steady even when the sea is rough. I do not have to solve everything tonight My worries are boats on the water I can see them and let them pass I am safe, here, now. My breath is my anchor. The long breath out brings me home. I can rest. The light keeps turning without me. Look out of the window once more. The sea is calmer now.

44:05 The small boats have moved on. One by one, their little lights have reached the harbour on the far shore and been tied up for the night and gone out. The sea lies smooth and black and clear. Only the long beam of the lighthouse moves across it, slow and steady, round and round, keeping watch for anyone who might need it.

45:05 Before you close the book, there is one more page you can turn to. A page for tomorrow. Imagine, just for a moment, waking up tomorrow morning, rested, opening your eyes to the daylight, taking one long breath out, like a wave sliding back from the shore, and getting up Steady in your own time. Imagine moving through the day with a little more space inside you. When something difficult comes, a message, a problem, a hard conversation, you notice it.

46:04 The way the keeper notices a boat on the water. You see it clearly. You take a long breath out. And you deal with it one step at a time, from the steady place inside you. The way the tower stands on the rock. You do not have to be perfectly calm. Lighthouses are not perfectly still. The wind still howls around them. The spray still reaches the windows. But they stand. And they shine. And that is enough. Close the keeper's book now. Your watch is over for tonight.

47:14 There is a light that keeps turning all by itself, and it will go on turning until morning. Before you go to bed, while you sit here by the stove, there is one more thing the sea can teach the body. Anxiety does not only live in the mind, it lives in the muscles too, in hands that grip without knowing it, in shoulders that brace, in a stomach that clenches. Sometimes, the body forgets how to let go, because it has been holding on for so long. So let us remind it, gently, with the help of the waves. In a moment, as the next wave rises, I will ask you to tighten one part of your body, just a little, not so much that it hurts, only enough to feel the tension clearly.

48:59 And then, as the wave breaks, you let it go all at once and feel the difference. Let us begin with the hands. As the wave rises, slowly curl your fingers into soft fists. Tighter. Hold it there, feeling the tension in your hands and your forearms. And now, As the wave breaks, let go. Let your fingers fall open.

49:50 Let the hands go limp and heavy. Notice the difference. The warmth flowing back into your palms. The tingling in your fingertips. The heaviness. That is what letting go feels like. Now, the shoulders. As the next wave rises, Lift your shoulders up towards your ears. Up and hold. Feel how much effort it takes to hold them there. This is what your body does all day long when it is worried.

51:05 And as the wave breaks, let them drop down, all the way down. Feel them sink into the soft back of the armchair, heavy and loose. Let them stay there. Now the face. As the wave rises, squeeze your eyes closed a little tighter and press your lips together and scrunch up your whole face. And as the wave breaks, let it all go. The eyes soft, the lips soft, the forehead smooth and wide. the belly as the wave rises gently tighten the muscles of your stomach as if you were bracing for something and as the wave breaks let the belly go soft completely soft Let it rise and fall freely with the breath. And now the legs and feet. As the wave rises, point your toes And tighten your legs, all the way up through the thighs.

53:46 And as the wave breaks, release. Let the legs go heavy. Let the feet fall where they want to. And last of all, the whole body together. As the wave rises, tighten everything, just a little. Hands, shoulders, face, belly, legs. Hold it and feel the whole body braced against the world. And as the wave breaks, let it all go. Every part of you at once. Sinking. Softening. Releasing. Let the next wave come and go without doing anything at all.

55:17 Just listen to it and feel how loose and heavy the body has become. Now notice your arms, lying beside you. Notice how heavy they feel. Heavier than they have felt all day. So heavy that lifting them now would feel like lifting wet sand. No one is asking you to lift them. They can grow heavier still, settling onto the arms of the chair like stones settling on the sea floor.

56:24 And notice the warmth spreading through them, from the shoulders, down through the elbows, into the wrists, the palms, every fingertip. A pleasant, comfortable warmth, like sunlight on a stone wall in the afternoon. Heavy and warm. Heavy and warm. Now let that same heaviness and warmth spread into your legs, down through the thighs, the knees, the calves, all the way to the soles of the feet. heavy and warm.

58:18 And into your chest, your belly, your back, the whole body heavy and warm and still, held up completely by the deep chair beneath you, The way the rock holds up the tower. Let the breath settle into a slow rhythm now. Breathing in for a count of four. and breathing out for a count of six. Slower out than in, like the long slide of a wave back to the sea.

59:10 I will count it with you a few times. Filling for four, two, three, four, Emptying for 6, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Filling 2, 3, 4. Emptying slowly 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. A final time filling, two, three, four. And the long wave back, two, three, four, five, six, Keep that rhythm going on your own for a while if it suits you, or let it go and breathe however you like. Both are fine. In the corner of the keeper's room, there is a bed, a real bed, deep and wide, piled with soft pillows and warm blankets, set into an alcove in the thick stone wall. Let yourself rise from the armchair, slowly, loose and heavy as you are, and cross the warm wooden floor and climb into it. Feel how soft it is, how the pillows hold your head, how the blankets settle

1:02:26 over you, heavy and warm. From here, through the deep window, you can still see the beam of the lighthouse passing slowly over the dark sea, coming round, moving on, coming around again. And you can still hear the waves rolling in against the rocks far below, pausing, sliding back, Let your breathing follow them once more, in as the wave arrives, out long and slow as it draws back.

1:04:08 In.

1:04:16 And out. Every part of your body is heavy now, heavy and warm and still, your arms resting, your legs resting. your back sinking into the soft mattress, your head deep in the pillow. Your mind too is growing still, like the sea after the boats have gone home, smooth and dark and quiet. If a thought comes, Let it be a small light on the water far away. Let the beam pass over it and let it move on. You are safe here. The walls are strong. The light is turning.

1:06:29 The sea is calm. And tonight, as you sleep, the calm you have found here can stay with you. It can settle deep into your body and your mind, so that when you wake, you wake a little steadier, a little more rooted, a little more like the tower on the rock. And whenever you need it, in the days to come, you can find your way back here. Just close your eyes and take one long breath out, like a wave drawing back from the shore, and remember the light turning steady and patient, keeping its watch. But for now, there is nothing to remember, nothing to watch, nothing to do.

1:08:37 Somewhere out in the night, The tide is slowly turning. The sea is beginning, very gently, to draw back from the rocks. The way it does every night. The way it has done for thousands of years. Nobody needs to tell it to. It simply knows. Far away on the mainland, the town is asleep. The streets are empty, the lamps are low, thousands of people lying in their beds, each with their own worries, set down for the night. All of them resting under the same sky, while the light out here keeps turning over the water. And somewhere, a very long way off, past the edge of the night, the morning is waiting. It will come in its own time, quietly, the sky turning grey and then gold over the sea.

1:10:12 There is no need to stay awake for it. It will find you rested when it comes. Only the sea. Only the light. Only the deep, warm dark of the stone room holding you. The light keeps turning. The waves keep breathing. And you can let yourself sink softly into sleep. Deeper. and deeper. Sleep now.

1:14:53 I'm sorry.

1:14:53 I'm sorry.