Posted on November 2, 2025

How a blue light, a snowy night, and a final promise led to healing and a new beginning.

Today is November 2nd—a day that carries two anniversaries for me.
Thirteen years ago, my mother-in-law passed away. Twelve years ago, on this same date, I kept my promise to her and quit smoking through hypnosis.

This piece is a commemorative writing for her, a reflection on her last act of kindness, which turned out to be a gift of health and a catalyst for the life I now live.

Every miracle begins with curiosity, that quiet urge to understand something deeper about yourself. Last time, we explored finding your miracle, that spark of recognition that something greater is possible.
This week, we move into Step Two of the Miracle + Mindset Process: The Promise.
It’s about what happens when your conscious decision and subconscious readiness finally meet and how hypnosis, sometimes long before you even know what it is, can become a gentle teacher guiding you toward transformation.

Before I became a hypnotherapist, hypnosis was already quietly working its way into my life. Here’s my story: how hypnosis found me long before I ever found it.

The Blue Light

In high school, I struggled with sleepless nights, hours lying awake, unable to turn off my mind. Someone, I wish I could remember who, told me to imagine a blue light at my feet, soft and calming, relaxing every muscle it touched.

As the light moved upward, I felt my body melt into stillness. I rarely made it past my hips before I was asleep. That blue light became my first self-hypnosis tool, long before I had a word for it. It carried me through college, exams, heartbreaks, and every restless night when my mind refused to shut off.

The Power of Suggestion

A few years later, I was maybe eighteen or nineteen, sitting in an 18+ bar in Colorado Springs, DJ’s, I think. The kind of place where music hummed through the walls and curiosity came easy. They had a stage hypnotist that night, and because I’ve never been afraid of being curious, or of looking a little silly, I volunteered.

I went under almost immediately. The next thing I knew, I was standing at the microphone, supposed to be singing Hit Me With Your Best Shot. The problem? I barely knew the words. I was a metal girl, not a Pat Benatar fan. The hypnotist realized it fast and brought me out.

I remember blinking in surprise, thinking, How did I get here? One moment I was in the audience, the next I was holding a mic under bright lights. That moment changed something in me. I had just met hypnosis and it felt like meeting a secret part of myself.

Later, in college, I saw another stage hypnotist with my then boyfriend (now husband). I didn’t volunteer this time, but I still followed every suggestion from my seat; arms rising, head tilting, mind flowing with every word. He thought I was faking it. I knew better. My mind had found its rhythm with suggestion.

As I got older, I used self-hypnosis differently—not for sleep, but for calm. I learned how to quiet my overthinking, focus on gratitude, and visualize the life I wanted.

And it worked.

I manifested moving to a neighborhood that reminded me of childhood, deep friendships, laughter, a life that fit.

I had no idea I was already practicing what I’d one day teach.

The Promise

Years later, my mother-in-law, my smoking buddy, my friend, pulled me aside during a visit. She was sick, though we didn’t yet know how sick.

“When I die,” she said, “I want you to quit smoking. But not until I die.”

I promised her I would. And I always keep a promise.

Months later, on November 2, 2012, she passed away. That promise became a weight I carried in my chest.

I was forty-eight and smoking nearly two packs a day. Smoking wasn’t just a habit; it was a companion, always there when I was stressed or lonely. But loyalty is a powerful motivator, and mine was fierce. I knew I needed to keep my word.

The Snowy Drive

By the next summer, I found a Groupon for a hypnosis session, one appointment, one chance to see if it could work for me. It was scheduled for November 2, 2013, exactly one year after her death. I took it as a sign.

I smoked two cigarettes in the car before walking in, as if saying goodbye to an old friend.

The hypnotist’s office was tucked inside an apothecary in Denver. She asked about my triggers; coffee, alcohol, after meals, driving, and took careful notes. She even asked what kind of alcohol I drank; I told her red wine and vodka. Then she led me to a private room where I lay on a massage table.

She guided me down into hypnosis, then quickly brought me back up.
“You went too deep, too fast,” she said with a little smile.
She took me back in slowly. I don’t remember the words, but I remember how it felt, like my mind had been massaged into a purely relaxed state.

When I left, snow was falling. I got lost trying to find my way home through Denver traffic. My cigarettes sat on the seat beside me, open and waiting. Yet every time I thought about smoking, I felt a surge of happiness, the quiet joy that comes from knowing something has truly changed.

I never smoked again.

For three days, I felt scattered, like my brain was reorganizing itself. Then calm came. The cravings disappeared. When I tried to picture myself smoking, I couldn’t. The memory was gone. My subconscious had rewritten the script.

I did sneeze every time I drank red wine or vodka for a while, which made me laugh. A reminder that my mind had built a new association: those drinks meant smoking, and now smoking meant no.

What I Know Now

It isn’t typical to quit after one session, but my motivation was enormous, my love, my loyalty, my readiness. Now I understand what happened that day: my conscious desire met my subconscious readiness. That’s the intersection where real change begins.

Hypnosis doesn’t make you do something you don’t want; it gives your subconscious permission to help you do what you already decided was right.

The structured process I teach now looks different: we reduce nicotine gradually, retrain triggers, and build new coping mechanisms to replace the stress relief once provided by smoking. Whether that outlet becomes breathwork, journaling, exercise, meditation, or mindful movement, the key is creating a healthy ritual to take the old behavior’s place.

Addiction, after all, is often just an outdated coping skill, a subconscious attempt to feel safe. Once you give the mind a better way to find calm, the old pattern fades.

That snowy night was when hypnosis stopped being a party trick, and became a promise.